Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
With that plan in mind, I peered through a slitted eyelid to check Tucker’s status again and nearly jumped out of my skin to find him staring at me.
He grinned. “Morning, Bougie. That pillow sleep alright, or was the lack of feathers a problem for your aristocratic neck?”
“I’ve slept on worse.” I feigned nonchalance. “Is she coming back?”
“What, to bring us donuts and coffee?” He laughed. “She had that early morning training session with a client, remember? Mmmm, I hit that tight ass again in her shower, though. I won’t be forgetting it anytime soon either.” He ran a hand over his chest and offered me a lazy smile that washed over me like a wave of heat. How was he so cavalier and mellow at the same time while my entire body was one big knot? Including my dick.
“No you didn’t.” I would’ve heard them, I was almost sure of it, and the intimate chuckle that followed confirmed it. He was just trying to get a rise out of me.
“Would’ve, though. Wish I had. Goddamn, what a night.” He sighed happily.
Another sliver of heat coiled in my stomach, accompanied by an unfamiliar prickle of jealousy that made no sense, so I was pretty sure it was just competitiveness and the fact that I hated the idea of Tucker getting one up on me—whether it was on the football field or with a woman. “Don’t you need to be somewhere?” I echoed his question from the night before.
“I’ve got as much time as I want to lie here and wait for her to come back. Bonus of being the home team.” Eyes still on me, Tucker arched his back in a luxurious stretch that highlighted the miles of hills, dips, and honed muscle that made up his naked chest. Why the fuck wasn’t I already on my feet and pulling on my clothes? Tucker’s grin widened at the tent he was making in the sheets and probably the fact that I’d looked a little too long at it. Definitely hadn’t meant to do that. I’d seen his dick enough for a lifetime last night. “Feeling a little intimidated, Whitt? Jealous?”
“Not a fucking chance,” I bit out, but I was feeling something as my gaze drifted back to that bulge, and I didn’t like it. Images of Tucker’s big hands gripping Monica’s waist wound through my brain, the slow, smooth piston of his hips as he moved inside her, his lips parted, eyes half-mast with pleasure stoking mine higher as she’d worked my cock. I’d never had an experience like that in my life, and Tucker seemed so fucking casual about it that it made me wonder if that was a regular thing for him. Threesomes, men, women, whatever he wanted. The guy could be having regular orgies, and the idea of that was oddly disconcerting as he wrapped a hand around his dick over the sheets and squeezed. Fuck, he had a nice dick, I’d give him that. No wonder he was slinging it around regularly. “You just gonna rub one out right here like a fucking heathen?” The question came out less accusatory and condescending than I’d hoped, and once again, Tucker offered an unruffled hitch of his shoulder.
“That a problem? You kinda look like you want to watch the magic.”
“I don’t.”
He grinned. “Feel free to join. You know that shit was hot as fuck last night.” He gave his dick another tug and let out a raspy groan that rocked my core. “I’ll even let you give me a hand if you want to.”
My instinct was to leap from the bed and get the fuck out, but he was giving me that look again, the challenging, amused one that said he was trying to see how far he could push me before I snapped, so I arched my back, too, mimicking his earlier stretch. It pushed the sheet down, and my cock sprang into the cool air. I smirked at how fucking quickly his gaze dropped to it. “Maybe I will.” I could match him, play for fucking play, any day. And I would.
Then he opened his damn mouth again. “Bullshit, Bougie. It’s okay to admit you’re terrified right now, that you were terrified last night, but you let that big fat fucking ego do all the directing, and now you’re panicking.”
Said ego flared to life. “Terrified? Panicking?” I scoffed. “If you’re trying to imply I’m a homophobe who’s gonna go home and freak the fuck out that another man’s hand brushed mine, you’ve got another think coming. I wasn’t keen to share, that’s all.” As I spoke the words, I realized they were mostly true. Tucker’s presence hadn’t bothered me because he was a man but because he was Malik Fucking Tucker and grated on my last nerve.