Tacker

by Sawyer Bennett

  Tonight.

  Right now.

  “Going to invite me in?” she asks, her expression clearly saying she expects me to do so.

  “Of course,” I say, opening the door wider to gesture her in. “But I don’t want you to think I expect anything—”

  My words are cut off. Rather than coming into my apartment, Nora walks her body right into mine. Her hands come to my face, slide along to the back of my head, and she pulls me down to her.

  Right to her mouth where she launches a fully engaged, hot as fuck, sizzling kiss on me that makes my legs weaken and my cock thicken.

  Christ.

  This is happening.

  My legs bend, hands to her ass, and I’m hauling her up my body. When she tightens her legs around my waist, I spin, walking her back into the door where I can press up against her. She can’t miss the fully engaged erection now hard between her legs, and it’s confirmed when she moans and grinds down on me.

  Again… dizzy. Flooded with sensation and overwhelmed by having a soft, warm woman in my arms for the first time in sixteen months.

  But not just any woman.

  Nora.

  Her fingers dive into my hair, her mouth fusing onto mine. Tiny little noises of need echo in the back of her throat, and I have an overwhelming urge to tear her clothes off and take her right here against the door.

  But then I remember.

  She said it would be fucking perfect. While I’m not averse to eventually having her against the door, wall, or on the counter—wherever—I want to slow this down so it’s enjoyed.

  I want to give her perfection.

  Pulling my mouth away, I pin my eyes on her face. It’s flushed, her expression a bit dazed. “You sure about this?”

  “I stopped at the convenience store down the road and got condoms,” she replies, and I can feel the heat creeping up my neck. Good fucking thing since I sure as hell don’t have any.

  Dipping my face, I let my forehead rest against hers a moment. “Let me apologize in advance for the fact I only have an air mattress in my room.”

  Nora snorts, and I lift my head. “It doesn’t matter because it’s going to be perfect, remember?”

  “Yeah,” I murmur softly. “I remember.”

  My mouth returns to hers, this time just brushing against it, then I carry her through my small living room, past my pathetic recliner, and down the short hall to my bedroom. Nora merely presses her cheek against mine for the ride.

  I let her slowly slide down, relishing every inch of the way her body touches mine on the journey. It’s relieving and torturous at the same time.

  Nora’s feet touch the carpet, and she examines my small room before returning her attention to me. Her lips quirk up. “It’s… um… functional.”

  “Unless the mattress deflates while we’re on it,” I point out.

  We just stare at each other a moment before we burst out laughing, and… this really is perfect.

  “Come here,” I say, crooking my finger.

  It takes her no more than three steps, but she’s back in my arms and we’re kissing. Slow, sensuous movements of our mouths, tongues. Hands roaming, stroking, plucking.

  It’s perfect because our clothes somehow seem to melt away without any awkward dancing around or interference with this slow-burn foreplay we have going on. Nora even manages to pull the condoms from her back pocket and gracefully tosses them onto my bed before I divest her of her jeans.

  I lower her to the mattress, right in the center, and follow. It’s luckily inflated well enough that it holds us, then my naked body is pressed flush against hers. She spreads her legs and I nestle in, feeling the heat of her pussy against my cock as it rests there, so hard and ready I can feel my pulse beating within its length.

  Her breasts are soft under my chest, and her fingers play within my hair as she stares up at me.

  “Feels good,” I mutter. “Just pressed up against you like this.”

  Her hips tilt a little, circle, and the friction against my dick makes me groan. I bend my head, take her mouth, and slide my tongue in.

  She fucking tastes great, too.

  Bet she would taste amazing between her legs. Should I go there? Would she want me to? I know I want to, but is it too soon to be intimate that way?

  For the first time, doubt creeps in and I wonder if I even know what the hell I’m doing. Nora is responsive, writhing under me as we kiss, yet I find myself distinctly unsure of myself. I pull back, trying to glean what she would want me to do from her expression.

  It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve had sex, and I don’t know what to do. I think I used to be good at this shit, but maybe I was only good with MJ.

  Nora’s hands cradle my face, and it causes me to focus in on her. Her eyes bore into mine, her voice gentle but sure. “This is going to be perfect,” she reassures me. “Don’t overthink. Do what feels right and natural. I swear, Tacker… it will be perfect because it’s us.”

  Relief floods through me, head to toe, followed by an intense rush of desire. Not from her sexy body under me or the hot kiss we just shared, but because she believes in this.

  Us.

  Yeah, I’m turned on by that.

  I kiss Nora again, gently this time… almost a goodbye kiss.

  Then I start to move down her body, trailing my lips along her skin. Along her collarbone, over her breast, and her nipple. She arches her back and makes a purring sound, putting her hands in my hair and holding tight.

  By the time I reach her belly, Nora is spreading her legs for me, and I know she’s right. It’s going to be perfect.

  I thought I couldn’t get any harder, but the first swipe of my tongue causes my cock to become painful. Ignoring it, I concentrate on her taste and the way she cries out every time I suck on her clit.

  So fucking responsive. Bucking, arching, and making the most amazing sounds that have me practically dry humping the mattress in response before she shatters.

  Calls out my name… an homage. I feel revered, and I gentle her with soft caresses of my lips on the insides of her thighs.

  When her hands unclench from my hair, I look up her beautiful body to find her staring so intensely I wonder for a moment if I did something wrong.

  But then she practically growls in a sexy, raspy tone. “Get inside me. Now.”

  Don’t need any further encouragement. I grab one of the condoms, ripping it with my teeth as I surge up her body. Her legs splay open for me and I get sidetracked by her pussy, shiny from my ministrations and just waiting for me. My hands shake slightly as I roll the rubber on my cock. When I position myself at her entrance, I have to take a steadying breath.

  Nora’s hand comes up, covering that area of my chest over my heart while her other hand helps to guide me into her.

  I groan as she takes me in. So damn warm and tight. I have a moment of fear that I’m going to embarrass myself.

  Then Nora moves, a swivel of her hips, urging me to match her. I do, withdrawing—my body remembering exactly what to do—and then plunging back in.

  Yes, this.

  Absolutely fucking perfect.

  Nora and I move, a tangle of arms and legs. My cock plundering her sweetness, taking from her and giving it right back. We’re gasping, undulating with hurried kisses in between, and whispering breathless, filthy talk to urge us higher.

  It can’t be a cliché when we both explode together.

  It can’t be coincidence or blind dumb luck.

  It’s because we’re perfect together. As I start to come down, holding Nora tightly to me, I realize she might just be the absolute perfect thing for me.

  And yes… that makes me feel a twinge of guilt.

  CHAPTER 25

  Nora

  The first time with Tacker was beautiful. I felt like a soaring eagle. As predicted, it was perfect.

  Sweet, tender, and so perfectly intimate that I had tears in my eyes when we came together.

  Now as Tacker rides m
e from behind, his powerful body dominating me, it makes me realize there is still so much about this man I have to learn. I’m used to the taciturn man who had turned gently insightful, and I wasn’t expecting Tacker to turn alpha in the bedroom.

  Lest anyone thinks I’m complaining, please know the two orgasms I’ve had this go-round speak differently.

  One hand on my shoulder, the other on my hip, he drives into me so deeply I have to keep a hand braced against his wall or else I’ll get slammed right into it.

  “You okay?” he grunts through clenched teeth. At least, I think they’re clenched. They sound like they’re clenched. I can’t tell because my head is hanging down, my own teeth gritted so they don’t rattle out of my head.

  “Y-e-e-s-s,” I manage to stutter, then take a deep breath. I lift my head, looking at him over my shoulder. God, his face is savage and beautiful in its pleasure. He’s watching his cock tunneling into me, but as if he senses my gaze, his attention drifts right to my face. “H-a-a-a-r-der.”

  “Goddamn it, Nora,” he growls, and his expression grows so fierce in its determination that I can feel another orgasm starting to brew.

  Tacker fucks me as if his life depends on it. I put both hands on the wall, arch my back down, and tip my ass up to make it as easy as possible.

  Squeezing my eyes tight, I listen to Tacker’s breathing. It’s shallow, coming in half measures, and I know it means he’s close. This is our third time tonight, and his impending orgasm is clear.

  Mine needs help as I’ve had two since he started riding me a bit ago. My fingers slip between my legs, urging my body to sync with Tacker’s. I want to go over the edge with him again.

  But then my hand starts sliding slightly on the wall. My legs—which had been braced apart and dug down into the air mattress—are now involuntarily closing. Tacker grunts in annoyance of something, misses a stroke, and then mutters, “What the hell?”

  It takes me a minute to realize we’re sinking.

  Right down into the middle of the mattress while the edges start to puff around us.

  “Fuck,” Tacker growls as he realizes our predicament. We somehow popped the mattress, and he’s lost all leverage.

  Next thing I know, he’s on his feet and hauling me up. Almost tripping over, he swings me around, steps onto the floor, and pushes me against the wall. Tacker doesn’t miss a beat—pulls my hips back, kicks my legs apart, and drives back into me.

  “God, yes,” I cry out as my nails score into his wall.

  “Don’t need a fucking mattress,” he mutters, putting his hand between my legs. It only takes a few plucks of his fingers against my clit for my third orgasm to tear through me. Not as powerful as the first two, but still with enough punch I call his name again.

  “Yes,” he praises as he slams into me—once, twice, a third time—and his entire body jerks against me in release.

  Tacker’s arms come around me, and he straightens my body. Chin on my shoulder, he holds me through his orgasm.

  Rough, fast, and… perfect.

  I look over at the poor mattress. Tacker lifts his head, and I can feel him taking stock of the current sleeping situation.

  “Guess I really need to get on buying an actual bed, huh?”

  I laugh, leaning my head against his chest. “Although my legs are like jelly right now and I’d love nothing more than to collapse onto a sound mattress, what we just did was well worth it in my opinion.”

  “Totally worth it,” he says. “But I have an idea.”

  Tacker pulls away and I feel him slide out, leaving me feeling empty. He takes my hand, leads me out of the room and across the hall to his small bathroom. It’s surprisingly neat—for a man—but small and shabby because this apartment complex has seen better days.

  Without any embarrassment, Tacker handles the condom, then runs a washcloth under cool water. I’m stunned when he turns, giving me a gentle wipe between my legs before cleaning himself off, followed by a soft kiss.

  Then he has my hand again, leading me into the living room. I hadn’t gotten a good look before, but now I realize it’s sparsely furnished with just a recliner and a floor lamp. There’s a fleece blanket draped over the back of the chair, and I bet Tacker actually sleeps in it sometimes.

  In a fluid move, he grabs the blanket, snakes an arm around my waist, and pulls me down into the chair on top of him. I shift to my side, cuddling into him, and he drapes the blanket over us after extending the recliner fully.

  Tacker’s arms come around me. “If you’re going to stay the night, this is now the best I can offer you.”

  “I’ll probably head back to my place,” I say regretfully, even though it would be horribly uncomfortable to sleep all night in this contraption with Tacker. “I’ve got an early morning appointment.”

  I feel his lips come to the top of my head. “First thing tomorrow, I’m buying a bed. Promise.”

  That’s indication enough that Tacker fully intends to have me stay over in the future. I’m down with that, which makes me extend a like offer. “And you can stay at the ranch when convenient, too.”

  “Definitely,” he murmurs, giving me a squeeze.

  We lay in silence a bit more, and I start to feel a little drowsy. Maybe sleeping like this is doable.

  “Do you mind if I talk to you about MJ?” Tacker says into the silence surrounding us.

  It jolts me, and my head bounces off his chest so I can look at him. It’s the last thing in the world I expected him to say, but I guess counselor-mode never truly leaves me. I’m not put out in the slightest.

  “Of course not,” I assure him, shifting again so I can give him my full attention. “What’s up?”

  “I’m feeling guilty,” he says, and that’s not surprising. Being intimate with another woman is bound to cause that.

  “Am I the first since…?” My words trail off, but he gets me.

  “Yes. And I hate that I’m feeling guilty because what we just did… it was beyond amazing. I don’t want you to think my feelings of guilt trivializes what we just shared.”

  “I don’t,” I say, giving a tiny pat of my hand to his chest. “And I sense there’s more.”

  I can always tell when someone’s holding back on me just a bit, and while Tacker has been fully transparent with me since we had his breakthrough of sorts that day he sobbed across Starlight’s back, I know he’s not giving it all to me.

  Sighing, Tacker admits, “When you and I were in the bedroom, and things were getting hot… leading up to us fucking… well, part of me hoped it would be mediocre. Because I know mediocre with you would still be fantastic. But I thought to myself, if sex with you was just average, then I would be able to hold a little something of MJ that would still be the most perfect.”

  “And,” I press, not because my ego is needing the answer. I know he needs to confront this head-on if he’s going to move forward with a healthy, new relationship.

  “I hate I’m comparing the two of you. Fucking hate it, but… what we just did was about as far from mediocre as you can get, and…”

  He falters again. Can’t seem to bring himself to say it.

  So I step in and give him a hand. “And you think you’re letting MJ down because of how great it was and how much you enjoyed it?”

  He nods. “Stupid.”

  “Natural,” I correct him. “Spouses and intimate partners have to work through loyalty issues. You’re normal, Tacker. And I’m okay if building something with me causes you to feel guilty about leaving MJ’s memories behind. But you don’t have to do that. You can keep those memories fresh and alive. You can appreciate those things that are still perfect about her, even if it’s things that showcase me as less than stellar.”

  “You’re above stellar in every way,” Tacker assures me.

  “I most certainly am not. And if we hang in there, you’ll get my bad side eventually.”

  “I can handle it,” he says, then gives me an exaggerated smirk. “You can make it up to me in
orgasms.”

  “I can, can I?” I drawl, giving him a playful push. “I feel like I need to make a few up to you right now. I’ve had far more than you this evening.”

  Tacker removes his arms from around me to tuck his hands behind his head. He grins, eyes flashing devilishly. “I’m not averse to you starting on that now.”

  Tilting my head, I press a kiss to his chest and slide my hand in between us, searching for his cock. It’s soft and sated in my hand, but it responds almost immediately when I start to stroke.

  Tacker’s eyes flutter closed, and a serene smile plays at his lips. I gently move myself down his body, careful not to do anything that would tip us out of the recliner, and finally put my mouth on him.

  “Nora,” he murmurs.

  I have to admit… I love the sound my name makes on his lips.

  CHAPTER 26

  Tacker

  It’s been a long week, and I’m more than a little excited to see Nora.

  On Monday, we had a home game and I was beyond stoked Nora wanted to come. It’s a lot on her to make that forty-five-minute drive to the arena, but it means something to know she’s in the stands watching me. I think it means something to her that I want her there, too.

  After the game, we didn’t go out with the team.

  Rather, we went to my apartment since I was leaving the next morning for a four-day road trip. Again, another concession Nora is making to spend time with me, as she has an early workday on Tuesday like I do.

  I had some foresight, though. After the great air mattress bursting debacle, one thing I did this past weekend was order a bed. It would take a few weeks to come in, but I did manage to get a box spring and mattress to my apartment in the back of my truck. We’d at least be sleeping more comfortably than in a recliner.

  Can’t say there was a whole lot of sleeping Monday night. The prospect of not seeing each other for several days apparently gave us both an excess of energy that needed to be expended.

  All I can say is sex with Nora is out of this world. The connection is near to perfect, almost as if she were made to fit me. Despite the small twinges of guilt that I’m leaving MJ behind for another woman, my time with Nora is more than I ever expected. It continues to feel right.