“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 t
hings 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 Europe, 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.”
And I was astounded.
“Really?” I asked, mouth dropping open. I’d never imagined that people lived like this, going to such extreme lengths, this was way beyond my realm of experience. I mean, there were rumors that A-list actresses sometimes washed their hair in Evian, but I’d never imagined that there were people so rich that they washed their dirty clothes in bottled water, that was going beyond the pale.
And half in jest, I asked, “So do these special folks order their garbage bags from Italy then? Like special, scented garbage bags that smell of olives and wine?”
The big man nodded again.
“Honey, these folks are nuts,” he confirmed. “Seriously batshit crazy in some cases, with their priorities all wrong. If I weren’t their delivery man, I wouldn’t believe it myself, but trust me, I’ve seen it all.”
And I laughed softly then, taking his hand in mine.
“Well better them than us,” I murmured. “It’s their lives, not ours, and it’s not our business. Hey, I support Made in America and I’m happy to do my part.”
And the big man gave me another long look before kissing me, drawing me to sit in his lap, his strong arms like steel bands around my form, comforting, ensconcing me in a safe place.
“And that’s what I love about you,” he growled against my jaw. “You’re so sweet, so loyal, so real and I can’t get enough of it,” he said while claiming my lips for another deep kiss.
And sighing deeply, I melted then, dissolving against his big form, feeling my muscles go limp as my cunt heated up, my insides beginning to sizzle. Oh god, oh god, Tucker always had this electric effect on me, the way he made me cream instantly, the way he could play my body like a violin. So I nipped at his ear, biting lovingly, teasing my tongue along his jaw.
“Tucker,” I breathed. “I want you. Fuck me hard tonight, I need you bad.”
And he just chuckled, sweeping me into his arms, our mouths locked together as he carried me into his bedroom, the giant space decked out in deep navy, dark wood furniture, the décor totally masculine, totally Tucker. Maybe he didn’t live here permanently, but this place definitely reflected his personality, commanding, assertive, an alpha male at ease.
“You don’t need to ask twice, little girl,” he rasped against my mouth before setting me down. “Your wish is my command.”
And I moaned then, stroking my breasts, playing with myself. Of course I wanted his dick in my pussy, after all I’d just had my cherry popped and I wanted to feel that blunt shaft in my moist recesses again. But when I said I was a dirty girl, I meant triple X dirty, not soft core porn. Because I’d seen something in a video that I wanted to replicate.
“Tucker, honey,” I murmured slyly, looking up between my lashes. “Get your dick out.”
And dark streaks immediately slashed across his cheeks, his eyes growing ravenous, hungry and aroused.
“Oh really?” he said silkily, blue gaze penetrating. “And is this what we talked about before? About you taking the reins, being in charge?”
I nodded, a little shy but too supercharged to think twice.
“That’s it exactly,” I purred, licking my lips slightly, making sure my pucker was pink and glossy. “Get your penis out, big boy,” I commanded breathily.
And in flash, his cock was out, making me salivate, my chest grow tight. Because it was so beautiful, so gorgeous that I could hardly breathe. All ten inches of him stuck straight out at me, the fuckpole so hard, hot and heavy, a pearl of pre-cum already beading at the head. But I wanted more than a drop, I wanted a fucking faucet, all for me.
So I lowered my mouth, running my tongue around his glans, tasting that fleshy pink helmet, trailing it lightly.
“Mmm,” I murmured, smiling up at him with his dick in my mouth. “You taste good.”
And Tucker just threw his head back, releasing a roar of pent-up energy.
“You better get on with it, I’m not gonna hang on long,” he warned.
But I was only too happy to obey. Like a famished dog, I went at his dick like it was the last one on earth, tracing the vein along the bottom with my tongue, then flipping around and running my to
ngue along the top of his shaft. I pulled the skin at the tip tight with my fingers before pushing my tongue into that sweet slit and was immediately rewarded with a gush into my mouth, the sperm sticky and salty.
“Mmmmph,” I mumbled with dick in my mouth. “Mmmph.”
Tucker was insistent, grabbing my hair and angling his dick in deeper and I let him face-fuck me for a bit. His cockhead crept down my esophagus, making me choke a little, coughing reflexively, but I fought off my gag reflex and let the cock sink in deep, cramming me full, cheeks bulging.
Meanwhile, my hand crept to his balls, one hand squeezing his testicles gently before wrenching hard.
“FUCK!” he roared, fingers practically pulling my hair out now. “Fuck you!”
And I just smiled up at him, cheeks crammed full with his pole. But I knew he liked it from the way he was breathing hard, that massive chest heaving, his eyes on fire as he thrust his shaft in ever further, even harder, making me choke and gag. And I was rewarded with another deep spurt of semen down my throat, straight to my stomach, his penis losing it, inch by inch, little by little.
So I turned back to his balls, running my hands over the soft skin. God, they were so hot, so wobbly yet the essence of man started here, this was the factory for the good stuff. So this time I made my thumb and forefinger into an “O” and squeezed his testicles in between them, slowly applying pressure.
“Fuck, like a ball ring,” he grunted above me, “who knew you were such a fucking slut.”
But of course the answer to that was clear. I’d never been with anyone but him, so the big man was the only recipient of my ministrations, the only man I’d ever touched so intimately, fucking him nasty. And I was rewarded with another deep spurt of semen down my throat, the releases were coming faster and harder now, the warm liquid rushing into my mouth, alerting me of impending climax.
And when I poked a finger into his ass, orgasm hit like a raging earthquake, a tornado blowing through the big man’s frame.
“FUCK!” he screamed, fingers gripping so hard into my skull that I was sure I’d have a headache. “Fuuuuuck!” But I’d maneuvered my lips so that as he released lash after lash of white, it didn’t go straight down my throat and into my body. Instead, I caught mouthful after mouthful in my cheeks, swallowing some but making sure to keep some in reserve, storing it up like a squirrel in winter.
The Billionaire's Kitten: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 46
