Page 16 of Claiming the Fake Boyfriend
"Faster," I whisper against his ear, biting gently at the lobe. "Please, Tucker, I need—"
He responds immediately, increasing both pace and force until the headboard knocks rhythmically against the brick wall. The sound of our bodies coming together fills the loft, punctuated by our gasps and moans.
Tucker hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, the new position allowing him to sink impossibly deeper. Each thrust now hits a spot that sends sparks shooting up my spine, building pressure that's almost unbearable.
"Touch yourself," he urges, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to watch you."
I slide my hand between us, finding my clit swollen and sensitive. The first circle of my fingers makes me clench around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. I find a rhythmthat complements his thrusts, pushing myself rapidly toward another peak.
"That's it," he encourages, eyes dark and intent on my face. "God, you're beautiful like this. Taking me so well, so perfect."
His words push me closer to the edge. My movements grow erratic as the pressure builds, my inner muscles tightening around him. When release finally crashes through me, it's more intense than before, radiating outward from where we're joined until even my fingertips are tingling.
"Tucker!" I cry, back arching off the bed.
The sight of me coming undone seems to snap his control. His rhythm falters, becomes desperate, his grip on my hip almost bruising as he drives into me with abandon.
With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and groans my name, his cock pulsing inside me as he comes.
For several heartbeats, we stay locked together, sweat-slicked and breathless. Tucker's weight presses me into the mattress, but I welcome it, my arms wrapped around his broad back, unwilling to let him go just yet.
Eventually, he shifts to his side, bringing me with him so we're facing each other, limbs still entangled.
He brushes damp hair from my forehead, his touch unexpectedly tender. I rest my head over his heart, listening to its gradual slowing, feeling strangely peaceful. Through the loft's windows, I can see stars scattered across the velvet sky, the distant glow of lanterns along the river path. The world feels impossibly perfect in this moment.
"What are you thinking?" Tucker asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I consider deflecting with humor, but the vulnerability in his eyes deserves honesty. "I'm thinking that I haven't felt this good – this wanted, this... enough – in a very long time." I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertip. "Maybe ever."
His arms tighten around me. "Good. Because you are enough, Amber. More than enough. You're extraordinary." He tilts my chin up, eyes serious. "And this isn't just physical for me. I need you to know that."
The sincerity in his voice makes my heart swell. "It's not just physical for me either."
His smile is slow and beautiful. "So we're really doing this? No more pretending?"
"No more pretending," I agree, snuggling closer to his warmth.
Chapter 6 – Tucker
I wake before she does, my body somehow knowing that this morning matters more than any I've had in years. Amber sleeps curled against me, her cheek on my chest, one leg tangled between mine. Golden autumn light filters through the loft windows, painting her skin with honey and warmth.
I don't move, afraid to disrupt this moment, afraid she might wake up and regret everything.
But God, she's beautiful in the morning.
Her blonde hair is a mess, spread across my shoulder and pillow in wild tangles that I helped create. Her lips are slightly swollen from our kisses, parted softly in sleep. The sheet has slipped down to her waist, exposing the generous curve of her breast pressed against my side.
My chest tightens with something I'm not ready to name, though it's been growing since the moment she crashed into me.
Amber stirs, making a small noise in the back of her throat as she stretches against me. Her eyes flutter open, confusion flickering briefly before recognition dawns. Then she smiles, slow and sweet and a little shy.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.
"Morning, beautiful." I brush hair from her face, unable to stop touching her. "Sleep okay?"
She hums contentedly, shifting to prop her chin on my chest. "Better than okay. You make a surprisingly comfortable pillow for someone so... firm."
"I excel at all sleeping arrangements," I say with mock seriousness. "Though I'll admit, I prefer the ones involving you wearing exactly what you are now."
