Hunter frowned again.
“Wasn’t there a doorman or a super or something? Why you?” he whined. “Tuck, you have shit to do, you know the clock’s always running in this business.”
I just shrugged again.
“Maybe cause she lives five floors up,” I said helpfully. “And there’s no doorman, it’s a pretty run-down place on the Upper East Side.”
Hunter just frowned again. But my cousin is a good guy, he wasn’t going to ream me out for helping little old ladies with no options. So he just huffed again and turned away.
“Well, if this Evelyn Holmes person requests you again, we’re going to say you’re unavailable,” he said tightly. “Time is money in this business and we gotta move fast, roll with the ball.”
I just shrugged again. Hunter could spout whatever shit he wanted but I was still the boss and I was coming and going when and where I wanted, complaints be damned. After all I had even more invested in this business than him. Not only had I poured a fortune into the company as start-up capital, but I was also working as a lowly delivery man to better understand our business, running up and down flights of stairs, humping heavy packages, my baseball cap pulled low the entire time, anonymously delivering shit. After all, it’s critical to explore every niche of our business, know exactly what’s going on and there was no better way to do it than as a stealth boss. To understand what kept our employees up at night, I’d decided to take on the job myself, schlepping up and down all of Manhattan as a nondescript messenger. Only then would NYC Concierge be able to optimize on all fronts, truly push the boundaries of this developing sector, otherwise we’d be manipulating something that management, at its core, did not fundamentally understand. And I’d be damned if I was the boss straight out of Dilbert, giving wedgies with his head in the clouds. So yeah, delivery was our business, and I was the delivery man sometimes.
I shrugged again. Shit had to get done, and Hunter was right in some respects, I’d been spending a lot of time with my special customer. There were reports to read, client data to scrutinize, investors to chat up, endless lists of to-dos that always got pushed to the back. I shook my head, getting serious, flipping on my laptop while turning to focus on my work. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, I couldn’t wait to taste, to sample Laurie again, but for the rest of today, NYC Concierge was my baby.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Laurie
Hesitantly, I knocked on the big door. To say I was out of place was putting it mildly. I stood in a swanky building in Tribeca, a neighborhood so expensive that the most I could afford was maybe a pastry at a bakery, and not even a fancy bakery. Oh no, not the ones with the twee decorations and pyramids of macarons stacked in pastel colors, that was too expensive. I was talking about a pastry from Dunkin’ Donuts, I’d wandered into one on the way here, treating myself to a snack before arriving at Tucker’s building.
And looking up, I almost gasped. The grey edifice was classic Tribeca with the huge, cast-iron windows and a grey and green striped awning over the front door. Even the doorman was fancy, a burly man in a snazzy bellhop outfit, jaunty cap perched on his head.
“Can I help you?” he said, businesslike. Guess the jaunty cap was just a prop, there was nothing friendly about him. In fact, he was kind of like a bulldog brought in to shoo away randoms, his expression suspicious and impassive at once.
And I mumbled before lifting my chin and looking him straight in the eye. No need to act awkward, be the timid little girl. After all, Tucker was a delivery guy and there had to be some explanation for these majestic digs. No way he could afford this on a delivery man’s salary even with generous tips.
So I piped up confidently, “Tucker McGrath please,” and the doorman nodded. With a sweep of his hand, he pointed me towards the elevators.
“I’ll let Mr. McGrath know you’re here,” his voice trailed as the door closed. I took a deep breath. Okay, I was going to see Tucker again, and the big man was about to show me his home, show me where he lived. My cheeks colored, my breath going fast in anticipation. It was exciting to be seeing a man ever since the disaster of my divorce, maybe even a little early, but who knows? It’s better to get back in the saddle right away, not lie on the ground and cry when you could be having a ball with a gorgeous male.
And finally I was at Tucker’s floor. I stepped up to the big, mahogany door and pressed the doorbell, a melodic chime ringing out before the massive slab opened. Tucker was there and god, he was so gorgeous that I lost my breath immediately, his massive shoulders almost as wide as the doorframe, those sculpted arms, the thick thighs.
Before I could even say hello, he’d pulled me into the foyer for a deep kiss, thrusting his tongue between my lips as the door slammed shut behind us. I was lost in his arms already, mewling, writhing, pressing my breasts against that hard chest before we finally came up for air.
“Hey baby girl,” he murmured against me, lips soft on my mouth. “You look nice.”
And I flushed because I’d taken special pains for our dinner together. He’d said it was going to be pizza and beer but I still wanted to look attractive, make it special. So I’d rummaged through my stuff before reappearing with a pair of designer jeans, the denim flattering as it lifted and shaped my butt, the pockets on the ass highlighting my juicy curves. And I’d paired it with a white cashmere sweater, the cable so fine and soft that it was like rubbing your cheek against velvet.
Except the cashmere was doing me no favors right now. My nips poked out through the wool like rocks, totally apparent, pointing straight at the big man like heat-guided missiles seeking their destination.
“Is that for me?” he growled, eyebrows raised. “Or are you just happy to see me?” he said lasciviously, eyeing my hard nips.
And I giggled then, slapping a small hand against a hard bicep.
“Oh you!” I flirted. “That’s for the girl to say, not the guy.” And in this case it was true because there was a tent at Tucker’s crotch already, I could make out the curve of his penis, the bulge enormous and appetizing.
But Tucker was a modern man.
“Hey, we don’t have to have defined gender roles,” he rumbled with a wink. “No need to hold back baby girl, if you want to be the aggressor I’m all for it.”
And I looked at him through my lashes.
“Really?” I purred, thrusting my chest out further. “Is that what you want?”
And Tucker’s eyes lit up, his hand tracing the shape of my breasts, weighing them in his palms, savoring their heft, their firm shape.
“It’s not that I want it, baby girl,” he rumbled, “It’s if you want it, then I’m all game.”
Biting my lip, I flushed again. I was an untested virgin and yet there was so much that I wanted to do, so many dirty fantasies to act out and oh fuck, but playing with Tucker, experimenting with our bodies was at the top of the list. But as I eyed his big form hungrily, my stomach rumbled, audience be damned. It was loud enough that you could practically hear it across the room, the “grrah!” of stomach juices churning.
And the big man just laughed.
“Fuck little girl, I gotta feed you, don’t I?” he growled low in his throat. “Fuck I love that about you, how those curves need sustenance to keep going, need food to maintain their bounce. By the way, did you eat something on the way over, honey? I tasted something on your lips, something sweet.”
And I licked my lips self-consciously, my pink tongue flickering, causing the big man to stare, mesmerized.
“Yeah, I had a maple-glazed donut from Dunkin’ Donuts,” I admitted. “When I walked past, the smell was so appetizing, wafting out onto the sidewalk that I couldn’t resist. I swear, they must purposefully blow food smells onto the sidewalk because it was like I was in a tractor beam, my feet just started walking and the door opened like magic in front of me.”
And the big man laughed harder.
“Fuck baby, I love it. Your verve for life, your appetite for food, everything bountiful and delicious. In
fact, if you put on some weight, you’d be even more beautiful,” he growled, eyeing my frame up and down, causing my nipples to tingle, hardening even further, a warmth lighting up deep within my cunt. “Yeah, about twenty pounds would do it.”
Fuck, twenty pounds? That’d make my body go from curvy to Jessica Rabbit proportions, I’d be poking out here, there, everywhere.
And that’s exactly what the big man wanted, judging from the way he was eyeing my bod while nodding to himself, licking his lips as if anticipating the extra acreage, the extra mileage he’d get if I had a couple pounds more.
“Fuck yeah,” he confirmed. “Twenty more pounds,” he rumbled.
And I just shook my head, rolling my eyes.
“Tucker, with twenty extra I’d be busting out of all my clothes. If you think I’m busting out now, just wait and see with another twenty.”
But the big man just laughed. “Do it for me baby,” he whispered into my ear. “Put on that extra poundage for me and I promise I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe, whatever you want, clothes, shoes, everything.”
I just rolled my eyes again because there was no way Tucker could afford it on his salary. He was a delivery man and there was no way NYC Concierge could be paying him enough to outfit me with a whole new set of clothes.
But I let it go because my stomach had growled again and I was really, really hungry. While we were talking, he’d led me to the dining room and the décor took my breath away. Oh fuck, there was an exquisite dining set, all gleaming mahogany, set with silverware that sparkled and shone, dishware so fine it was like looking through an eggshell.
But the food itself was even more appetizing. Because Tucker had ordered pizza, sure, but this wasn’t Domino’s or Round Table. Three steaming pies were laid out on the table, three artisanal pizzas with fancy toppings like arugula and Iberico ham interspersed with blobs of the finest hand-thrown mozzarella.
“Oh my god, what is this?” I asked dumbfounded. Again, I’m a girl who usually eats Little Caesars, so this was about ten steps up. “Where’d you get this?” I asked, my mouth watering already, the savory tomato scent tickling my nostrils.
And the big man just grinned.
“Baby, I said beer and pizza but I wasn’t going to order fast food or any shit like that. Hell no, I want you to eat your fill, how else to put on twenty pounds?” he added wickedly, throwing a sly glance my way. “This stuff is from an artisanal pizza place down the street that also brews their own beer, here take a sip,” he offered.
And I licked my lips as he filled a stein with the amber liquid, the glass immediately beading with sweat. Fuck, it looked good and I couldn’t wait to feel the beer trickling down my throat, I was hardly the hoity-toity type who only drinks wine from France. I mean, I love wine and wouldn’t turn down a glass but I like beer too, I’m happy with a Bud or a Coors Light on occasion, it’s a throwback to my roots. So I nodded happily as Tucker topped off the stein, careful blowing on the foam before handing it over to me.
“Mmm,” I moaned as I took a gulp of the good stuff. “Mmm,” I moaned again. It was frothy with a deep earthy scent, exactly as beer should be. And my eyes flipped open to find the big man staring at me.
“Fuck,” he rasped harshly. “It was like seeing you drink my sperm, how much you love it, how you eat it up.”
And I smiled wickedly at him.
“I do love it,” I cooed. “I love tasting it, wanna give me a sip, now before dinner?”
I could see the big man debating the offer, fighting an internal struggle before shaking himself, literally jerking his head in an effort to stay sane.
“I’d love to baby girl, only too happy,” he rumbled, eye-fucking my lips, tracing that perfect pink pout. “But for now, you’ve got twenty pounds to put on and fuck if I’m not gonna help you do it. So sit, baby, sit and indulge.”
And with that, he heaped a plate with three slices of pizza, three steaming, aromatic slices of pie topped with melty cheese and all sorts of yummy toppings. My mouth watered looking at the stack of goodies, I couldn’t wait to dig in, my taste buds were already standing up in anticipation, my stomach growling even louder. But Tucker wasn’t done yet. Taking a slice in his hands, he folded it in half before holding it out to me.
“Open little girl,” he commanded.
And I obeyed immediately. Like a baby bird, I parted my lips and Tucker fed me a bite of pizza, watching as I chewed then slowly swallowed.
“Tastes good, huh?” he noted with satisfaction. “We just need to get through this plate before we move onto other things.”
I gasped.
“The entire plate? All three pieces? Tucker I can’t, each slice is like a quarter of the pie, that’s way too much,” I protested. “We have to split it, or just save it for tomorrow, cold pizza is still good.”
But Tucker growled, his brows lowering.
“No fucking way,” he declared. “This is all for you and you’re going to eat every bite, every scrap if I have to feed you myself. Here,” he said, pushing my beer at me again, “take a sip, the liquid will help it go down easier.”
And choking a little, I sipped at the beer, letting the alcohol trickle down my throat. Because what choice did I have? The big man was going to get his way no matter what, another bite already ready in his hand.
“Open,” he ground out again. And once more, like a doll, I parted my lips to take another huge bite of pizza, this time the cheese practically spurting into my mouth, the tomato sauce tangy and warm on my tongue.
“Mmph!” I moaned in delight, chewing and swallowing slowly. “That was soooo good,” I admitted, my taste buds alight with new sensations.
And Tucker just smiled, satisfied.
“See?” he said smugly. “I know exactly what my girl likes, what she wants, what she needs.”
And I heated up all over again. Oh god, his words sent a thrill all over my body, my heart beating quickly, my lungs growing tight. I was “his girl”? Tucker knew what I wanted, what I needed? Oh god, oh god. Because what would it be like to give it up to this man, to fall entirely within his thrall, let him take care of me? I wandered into dreamland for a moment, envisioning my future. Oh yeah, days and nights with the big man, him coming home sweaty and warm, sharing a shower before dinner, him feeding me morsels, loving my curvy form with every sweep of his eyes, every stroke of his hands before we tumbled into bed.
And I smiled at him then, in love already, in love with my future, with everything his blue eyes promised. But there were still so many things that I didn’t understand about the man, things that made no sense, and this was as good as a time to ask as any. So between mouthfuls, I tried to get some answers.
“Tucker,” I began after swallowing another heavenly bite, “how are you able to live here?” I questioned, gesturing with my hand to the luxurious space, the fancy furniture. “I mean this is such a pricey neighborhood. Or do you get really good tips?” I stuttered, coloring slightly. Oh god. I’m not great at thinking things through and hearing my words out in the open made me realize how rude it sounded. Oh fuck, I’d just violated an unspoken rule not to ask about someone’s income, even in a roundabout way.
But Tucker was all smooth sailing, unruffled, unperturbed.
“Yeah, these are nice digs aren’t they?” he asked, glancing around at place before picking up a second slice of pizza and pulling off a small piece of singed crust with his fingertips, frowning. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was picking only the best parts for me, discarding any food that looked less than pristine, like I really was his woman, his treasure, deserving of only the very best. I grew warm all over again, tingles running through my body, my cunt growing soft and moist, loose in anticipation of him. And when he leaned over to feed me another morsel, I immediately took it, my brown eyes wide, supplicating.
But he hadn’t forgotten my question.
“This place belongs to some friends of mine,” he threw out casually. “They’re letting me housesit while they travel in E
urope, probably sunning themselves on a big white yacht in the Mediterranean,” he said wryly. “Hey, some folks caught the internet boom and made a bunch of cash back in the day, it was good times all around.”
And I chewed nodding. I remembered when the papers always seemed to be filled with some young billionaire with a baby face.
“I know,” I said wistfully. “But it passed me by. I mean look at me,” I said gesturing to myself. “I work in City government and am barely paid minimum wage, I only wish I were one of the lucky ones.”
Tucker frowned a little before speaking.
“You tell me if you need any money, okay honey?” he said softly, his eyes fixed on mine. “You let me know right away.”
And before I could open my mouth to protest, he went on.
“Besides, I dunno,” he said slowly. “Having a shitpile of money doesn’t mean you have it all. I mean, these are friends of mine, so I know them pretty well and they’re not exactly the happiest dudes on earth. They still have problems, just different ones,” he shrugged. “Nothing that you or I would understand or even care about, but problems just the same.”
And I was quick to agree.
“Oh of course,” I nodded, “Yeah, absolutely. Too much money never solved anything, and I’m a girl who’s perfectly happy with pizza and beer,” I said with a smile.
And the big man’s eyes darkened then, a warm fist descending over mine, gripping my fingers, his eyes eating me up hungrily, appreciatively.
“I know,” he growled deep in his chest. “That’s one of the things I love about you little girl,” he said. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, just a pizza, some beer, some shampoo and laundry detergent. Not even the fancy stuff, just the regular brands,” he rumbled.
And I giggled at that.
“Why, do some of your customers order stuff that’s way overpriced?” I asked curiously. “Shampoo from the department store, that kind of thing?”
The big man just snorted, sitting back in his chair.
“Worse,” he said with a wry pull of his mouth. “They order laundry detergent from France, shit that costs ten times what it should. Can you imagine? Instead of Tide or whatever, they’re using some imported stuff just because it’s from France. Not to mention the bottled water,” he added, shaking his head. “They’re washing their clothes in bottled water, believe it or not.”
Buck Me Cowboy: A Secret Baby Romance Page 59
