“I love you,” he said, eyes shining and hands smoothing over my skin like he was trying to calm a restless horse. “No matter what happens. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. And I want you to know I’m not always the smartest guy or the smoothest guy, but…” I firmed my jaw. “I’m the best one for you. You got me?”
Tucker lifted his hips up and reached down to grab me by the dick. I sucked in a breath.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly, so softly, as if still gentling that nervous horse. “I’ve got you,” he murmured again as the tip of my cock pushed against his tight entrance. “I’ve got you.”
When he finally sank all the way down and his fiery-hot body was squeezing the life out of me, I thought maybe I’d died and gone to heaven for real. My arms tightened around him like barrel bands, and I wondered, if only for a split second, why the hell no one had told me how good this was before.
“Tuck,” I whimpered, reaching up to pull his face down for a kiss. “This is for real, right? You and me?”
I expected him to say hell yes. I expected assurances. Hell, I was even looking for long-term promises, if I were being honest. But that wasn’t exactly what I got.
“Don’t let go,” he begged as his hips began moving faster.
So I held on to him for dear life and promised him I never would.
15
Tucker
3-Down: Settling up, calculating, (over)thinking (9 letters)
“Dunn Johnson, if you don’t stop pushing me up against every vertical surface, we will not have time to meet your family for coffee before my first… uh… fuck… my first patient.”
I meant this to come out as a very severe warning, but since Dunn had pushed me up against the wall in the hall outside the kitchen and was right then rubbing his jean-covered cock against my chino-covered ass while his hot mouth sucked lightly at the side of my neck and my lungs struggled to take in adequate oxygen, it’s possible that this didn’t come out quite as severely as I’d intended.
Or severely at all.
“Tucker Wright,” Dunn growled as he kneaded my ass cheeks, “if you don’t stop being so goddamn irresistible, and this tight little ass of yours doesn’t stop begging me to rub against it, I will have to push you against every flat surface between here and the Wisteria Cafe just to remind you who owns it.”
Holy. Hot. Damn.
Was my boyfriend a jealous, possessive caveman throwback?
Why, yes. Yes, he was.
Was I here for it?
My hard cock and the sudden dampness at the front of my boxer briefs suggested I really fucking was, especially after our night last night.
True fact: orgasms with Dunn Johnson were always enjoyable.
Truer fact: orgasms where Dunn Johnson whispered filthy words about all the times he’d noticed my dick over the years, followed by him telling me we were “making love,” followed by him railing me into the mattress so hard I could still feel it this morning, were by far the most enjoyable.
“Emergency wedding party meeting,” I reminded him breathlessly. “Brooks will come looking for us if we don’t show up.”
Honestly, at that moment, I didn’t care. I was more than willing to let Dunn drag me back to bed and let the whole world come knocking on the door. But Dunn groaned and took a tiny step away.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, blowing out a breath. “Gotta do my best-man duties and find out exactly what kind of tools my mom’s torturing Mal and Brooks with.”
I grinned, only a tiny bit disappointed to have gotten my way. Dunn was as proud as three peacocks that Brooks had chosen him, rather than Paul or any of his other friends, to be his best man, and it was adorable.
Like everything Dunn did.
I was so gone for him.
“I keep telling you, it’s tulle.” I turned around and fixed the collar of Dunn’s jacket, patting it into place.
Dunn’s hands covered mine. “You sure?” His voice was low, and his eyes glinted in a way that suggested he knew very well that it was.
“Yeah. Pretty sure,” I said, and then I leaned up to kiss him, just because I could. “Now come on.”
“Just to say,” Dunn said, taking my hand as we headed down the stairs, “when I get married there won’t be any tools or any tulle. Vegas or bust, baby.”
My stomach flipped like I’d missed a step. “Is that so?”
“Yep. I mean…” He darted a glance at me that I couldn’t quite interpret. “Not that I’m in any hurry, of course.”
“No, of course,” I echoed. I grabbed my coat from the rack in the mudroom and pulled it on as we went down the back steps, grateful for the excuse to turn away from him for a second.