“What’s your assessment?” I said, looking up at him as I closed the distance and my breasts pressed against his chest.
He groaned, sliding his hand along my cheek as he pulled my head to his, fusing his lips to mine. I’d never understood the analogy of fireworks going off when kissing. Until now.
Holy smokes, it was like my brain lit up. And from there, the electricity zapped through my body.
His other hand slid around my back and pulled me against him and I nearly gasped as I felt the hard length of him against my belly. Any resistance I had dissipated. How could I expect to deny myself something that promised to feel so good? To feel better than I’d ever felt before? Didn’t every woman deserve to have one sexual encounter in their lives that lived up to all the romance novel hype? I was sure, this was my one chance, and I was going to take it.
I wrapped my arms around him and slanted my lips to take the kiss deeper as I ground my pelvis against his dick.
“Take the full payment,” I whispered as I lightly bit his ear. I’d never bit a man’s ear before. For this one moment in time, I was going to let all my inhibitions go and just feel. Tucker might be young, but he had the looks and charm that women loved, and so I knew he had experience in bringing pleasure to women.
He growled. “I’m fucking dying for you.”
His use of the f-word heightened my already humming senses. “Me too,” I gasped.
He maneuvered me to the table, as his hands expertly pulled my knit top over my head and tossed it aside.
“You have amazing tits,” he said. “I’ve wanted to suck them since the moment you sent me that picture.”
Clearly, he didn’t just know how to touch a woman, but what to say to make her feel sexy and aroused as well.
He made good on his words when he removed my bra and drew my nipple into his mouth. He might as well have been sucking on my clit, because that’s where I felt it.
I moaned in a mixture of pleasure and frustrating need. I reached for his pants but he pushed my hands away.
“Not yet,” he said on a raspy voice, as he undid my jeans. “I’m taking my down payment first.”
“I need—”
“I’m going to take care of you, I promise.”
He shoved my pants and panties down and then stood back to take me in. Immediately I felt self-conscious and I crossed my hands over my breasts.
“Don’t,” he said, his eyes dark and hot. “Don’t ever cover your perfection.” He let out a small gasp. “You’re one fucking glorious curve after another.”
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to trust all that was being said right now, but since this was a fantasy, I decided to accept it.
I dropped my hand to the sides. “I want to see you.”
“You will.” He moved to me, pushing me toward the table. “Let me get a good look at your sweet pussy, Holly.” He helped me up to sit on the table, and then pushed my thighs open as he dropped to his knees.
I closed my eyes, again feeling self-conscious. I’d never been a big oral sex person. Or, more accurately, my ex hadn’t been. He made it seem like it was gross.
Tucker inhaled like he was taking in my scent. I resisted the urge to cover up down there. I could only imagine all the other women he’d done this with. They were probably clipped or waxed. I only shaved enough to avoid exposed pubic hair when I had my swimsuit on.
He pushed my thighs open wider, and then dragged his tongue from my pussy up to my clit and holy cow, that was more fireworks.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
“You’re delicious Holly.” He hooked his arms under my thighs and stood, pushing me back slightly and forcing me to lay back. “I’m going to eat you up.”
My pussy clenched at his words.
He sent me a sexy, wolfish grin. “Hold on Holly. I’m really hungry.”
I was already panting as he leaned over and pushing my thighs open wide, he devoured me. His tongue swirled and lapped, and then it was thrusting inside me. I writhed as pleasure built over pleasure like I’d never experienced before.
My hips were rocking, seeking his mouth. Fucking his mouth. It was torture and glorious all at the same time.
“Please,” I whimpered as the assault became too much.
“Do you need to come?” he asked, trailing little kisses along my inner thigh.
I moaned at the loss of contact and gripped his head. “Yes. Yes, make me come. I need to come.”
“Give me your sweet juices, Holly.” He suckled my clit and then used his tongue to thrust inside me, swirling around my sensitive pussy walls as his thumb flicked back and forth over my clit.
Like a bomb detonating, my entire body went taut as I reached the pinnacle of pressure and then exploded in a fiery blast of the most intense, exquisite pleasure.
He hummed an “mmm” against my pussy and it reverberated through my body that was already convulsing from an onslaught of sensations. He stayed with me as I began my descent from the orgasmic high.
My breath was starting to return to normal, when he used his finger, first one then two inside me as he sucked on my clit and once again, I was blasted to the stratosphere.
“Tucker,” I cried out. “Oh God…Oh God…” It was like my body had a mind of its own as it moved and shuddered against Tucker’s ministrations.
Finally, he took mercy, bringing me down, until I was a gelatinous heap on my table.
He stood, taking my hand, he helped me up to sit. “Taste how good you are.” He fused his mouth to mine again. At first, I was concerned it would be gross, but as it turned out, Rick had been wrong. It was warm and slightly sweet. Or maybe that was Tucker. I didn’t know. All I knew was that this fantasy wasn’t over yet.
One time. That’s what I’d give myself with him. Chances were, one time was all he’d need. Then he’d move on to the next woman. Probably one younger and more nubile. But I’d come this far, I wasn’t going to stop until I felt him sliding inside me.
“I still haven’t paid in full,” I said.
His smile was wicked. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
1
Tucker – One week Earlier – Late September
My family thought it was strange enough when I decided to chuck my career goal to become a psychologist to study teaching with specific emphasis on elementary education. When I told them that I was moving to Nebraska, they were shocked.
“You’re not still pursuing Brooke, are you?” my mother had asked. She’d been initially cool on my interest in Brooke mostly because she was afraid that I’d follow her to Nebraska. As it turned out she was right, but Brooke and I were only friends. We’d only ever be friends, and not because she’d always had the hots for her dad’s friend. Even I recognized early on that while I thought she was an awesome, fun, amazing woman, the special chemistry wasn’t there.
If my mother knew that the chances of my returning to Illinois were nearly nil because I did feel that special chemistry towards another woman here in Nebraska, she’d be bummed. She was still holding out hope that I wouldn’t like it here and would return home.
To be honest, when I showed up to the tiny town of Salvation, Nebraska this summer, I did have a moment of wondering what I was getting myself into. Brooke was involved in a fake marriage with the mayor, who happened to be her boss and her dad’s friend. An evil man named Simon Stark was trying to ruin the mayor’s reputation and sabotage the deputy mayor’s bid for election. It seemed like a lot of drama for a tiny town.
But of course, then I met the amazing Holly St. James in person, and she’d turned out to be even more than I’d anticipated from our texts that had gone from professional, to friendly, to a little flirty. During our texting days over the summer, she’d turned me on with one picture that wasn’t sexy, in that there were no tits or round ass. But it did get my libido humming. It was her eyes, glittering with happiness that grabbed my attention. She had a coy expression that had my dick hard just thinking about it.
Since the
n, when I had the urge, I took a look at that picture, and then jerked off. Once arriving in Salvation, I’d hoped to turn my fantasy into reality, but as of yet, I hadn’t had the chance to spend any time with her outside of school. In fact, faculty meetings were the only time I saw her, and she never seemed to have time to chat. I got the distinct feeling she was ignoring me.
Maybe today that would change, I thought as I walked into my classroom. I set my messenger bag on my desk. I pulled out the stack of five glass plates I’d brought, along with my dry erase pens, and bottle of water. I liked to start all my classes with a science experiment. Cool science tricks had been about the only time I’d captured the attention and focus of my students in Chicago. After that, I spent most of my day competing with social media and student bickering and fights making it difficult to teach. In two years, I’d burnt out and so when Brooke moved to Salvation and jokingly told me to move there too, I was ready to find a new scene.
Salvation had its share of troubled kids, but for the most part, I was able to engage them through the day, even beyond wacky fifth grade science experiments.
Once set up, I went to my door and waited as the buses arrived and my students showed up to class.
“Hey Mr. Marshall,” Jimmy Lerner said, giving me a high five.
“Hey Jimmy, welcome to today’s awesome, spectacular day of fifth grade at Salvation, Elementary.”
“Good morning, Mr. Marshall,” Lanie Maxwell said.
“Good morning, Lanie! Welcome to today’s awesome, spectacular day of fifth grade at Salvation Elementary.”
And so it went, as my students lined up outside my class to receive their individual welcome to the day. This activity had been another brainstorm I’d had in Chicago that worked for a day or two to make the kids feel special, but wore off fairly quickly. Now a month into the school year, my kids still enjoyed it. Some of them even had their own handshake or high five with me.
It took a little longer for me to get my teaching day started, and I got a few disapproving looks mostly from one of the sixth-grade teachers across the hall from me. I’d just grin and say, “Good morning Mrs. Akerman. Welcome to today’s awesome, spectacular day of school at Salvation Elementary.”
By time I got into the class the kids had hung their packs on the back of their chairs and were sitting, quietly chatting with each other.
I walked and stood at the head of the class. “Good morning my young geniuses.”
“Good morning, Mr. Marshall.”
Jimmy, who struggled with attention-deficit disorder blurted out. “What experiment are you doing today?”
“Ah…I’m going to draw a boat and make it float!”
“Ooh,” the class said.
“Come over to my laboratory,” I said, waving them over the long table on the far side of my room. I grabbed my plate, pen, and water.
The kids crowded around the table, giving me just enough room to squeeze in. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” they all said.
I made a big deal out of taking the cap off my dry erase pen. I drew a basic boat with a sail on the glass. “Ready for the magic?”
“Yes,” they all said a little louder.
Took my water bottle and poured a puddle over the drawing. The ink lifted and started to float around the puddle.
“Oh…cool…” the kids gasped and oohed and awed.
“Did I tell you I’m magic?” I said as I watched their excited faces. This was why I got into teaching.
“It’s not magic, it’s science,” Lanie said.
“True. Who can tell me how it works?” I asked looking around. Most kids kept their eye on the boat and shrugged. A few of my brainiacs furrowed their brows trying to figure out the trick.
“Who remembers what we talked about soluble and insoluble properties?” I asked, giving them a clue.
“Oh, I remember. Soluble means it dissolves,” Mark Anders said. “Does that mean it’s dissolving?”
“Does it look dissolved?” I asked.
“No,” the kids said.
“So, if it’s not dissolving, what is this ink?” I prompted them.
“Insoluble,” several of the students said.
“That’s right. So why do you think this is working? It’s holding together, but it’s also floating, right? Why isn’t it still stuck to the plate?”
Again, I had no response, but the kids were watching and thinking, and that’s what I wanted.
“What about density. Remember when we talked about that?” I asked.
“Ooh… I know,” Jimmy’s hand shot up.
“Jimmy, what’s the answer my man?”
“The ink is less dense. When the water loosens it, it makes it float.”
I shot my arms up in victory. “Yes. Exactly. You guys and gals are so smart.”
“Can we do it too, Mr. Marshall?” Mark asked.
“What sort of teacher would I be if I didn’t let you try too? But…if any plate is broken in this experiment—”
“We’ll be careful,” they all chimed in together.
“Well, then, I want you in your Alpha groups of five. Each group gets one plate and you each get a turn drawing. Grab a plate, towel and pen off my desk.”
I had divided the kids into several groups for collaborative activities. My alpha groups were the ones in which they, for the most part, had been able to pick who they wanted to be in a group with. When doing an activity with the potential of a mess, I liked to group them in a way in which I knew they had the best chance of not fighting with each other. My Potter group was organized by reading level. My Einstein group was organized by math and science, which in this case I didn’t use because I didn’t need water and broken plates. My Kardashian group was organized by social skill and usually had kids who had good skills mixed with those who needed help either because they were shy or lacked social graces.
The kids performed their experience, and with a minimal of water mishaps, we followed up science with math and then history. Then it was lunch. I got the kids organized dividing between those that packed lunch and those that bought or got free lunch at school. I walked them down to the cafeteria for the fifth and six grade lunch session, and then I headed to the teachers lounge for my own lunch.
Teachers were known for their friendliness, and, for the most part they were. But like many social groups, there could be cliques and attitudes especially toward the new person. For the most part, everyone here was welcoming and if not that, at least civil. Although there was one teacher who’d been very friendly before I got here and was now ignoring me. It was frustrating.
Said teacher wasn’t in the lounge so I took a seat with Becky Gimble, the art teacher and one of the other sixth grade teachers, Karen Sykes.
“So, what was it today?” Becky asked me as I sat next to her and across from Karen. “Did you show them nuclear fusion?”
“Actually, you might like this one,” I said with an affable grin. “I drew a boat and made it float.”
Becky’s eyes widened. “How’d you manage that?”
Karen looked at me with intrigue as well.
“Glass plate, dry erase marker, and water.”
“Water in the classroom. And glass. You’re braver than I am,” Karen quipped.
“They were great. A little water mess, but nothing broken.” I pulled out the sandwich I’d made for lunch.
“You’ve got great ideas,” Becky said. “You should share them with the others.”
“Are you saying the rest of us are chopped liver?” Karen arched an offended brow.
“No. But the kids think Mr. Marshall here is a rock star. I’m sure you and other teachers have great ideas for him as well. I mean you’ve only been teaching a few years, right,” Becky said with her signature loud nervous laugh.
“This is my third-year teaching,” I said. Although the two years in Chicago felt like forever. “Do teachers share ideas? I haven’t seen much of the other fifth grade teacher.” I was glad for the opport
unity to bring Holly up in a discussion so I could figure out what made her tick and why she was avoiding me.
“Holly likes to eat lunch in her classroom a lot. Especially this year,” Becky said, dipping her celery in hummus.
“What’s different about this year?” I hoped it wasn’t me.
“I think she’s still stinging about being left at the altar,” Karen said, a little hint of judgement behind her tone that made me not like her.
“Altar? She was engaged?” I scanned my brain trying to remember if in any of our texts she’d mentioned being engaged or recently unengaged, but nothing came to mind. That was surely something I’d remember. Then I wondered who the asshole was that would leave such a smart, witty, beautiful woman.
A muffled cough came from behind me and Becky.
I turned, and saw Holly, giving Becky the death stare. Becky smiled apologetically and laughed nervously for getting caught spilling the beans on her friend.
Me, I saw it as an opportunity. “Hey.” I smiled and pulled out the chair next to me. “Come sit with us. I’ll tell you how I was a rockstar with my students this morning.”
2
Holly
When I hid in my classroom to avoid Tucker, it didn’t occur to me that Becky would tell my life’s story and of the humiliation of being jilted at the altar. Of course, it should have. Becky was a wonderful friend, but she didn’t have a filter. It was one thing to be embarrassed at the realization that the man I’d been flirting with by text was only twenty-four, it was another thing for him to know that he’d been flirting with a woman who was almost old enough to be his mother and who another man walked away from. Before Tucker Marshall could avoid me, I avoided him.
Yet here I was, having him offer me a seat. I couldn’t think of an excuse quick enough to get away, so I took the seat he offered.
Fake Marriage (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 63
