He uses his mouth like it was made for my pleasure.
His tongue, lips, and teeth work in mind blowing sync to deliver an even stronger, more intense orgasm than the first.
But that doesn’t seem to be enough for Tucker. He wants more. He changes the angle of my hips and enters me with his tongue.
I’ve never had someone’s tongue inside me like that. If I had the opportunity to think about it, that might make me feel self-conscious; but my ability to form any coherent thoughts flies out of the window when Tucker begins fucking me with his tongue. He reaches up to find my clit and rubs slow, light circles on it, increasing the pressure exactly when I need him to.
I feel my body open up to him, and he takes every inch, every chance to get closer.
When the first wave of a new, devastating orgasm washes through me, Tucker’s face is pressed hard against my pussy. His mouth is fused with my entrance, and his fingers are rubbing my most sensitive spot with laser precision.
He doesn’t relent, prolonging my high for as long as he can. Tucker stops only when I push him away, too sensitive to take any more of his mouth on me.
My head feels full of bubbles and my gaze is slow to come back to focus. But when I do, all I can see is the heat still smoldering in the dark blue depths of his eyes.
“In the Zeta house Tucker is known as Mr. O.”
“O as in orgasm. If Tucker Prescott were a serial killer, multiple orgasms would be his signature weapon.”
“So, so many orgasms. It’s like he’s on a personal mission to make you come over and over, and over.”
The words of my teammates when they heard I had a date with the Cove Knights’ starting goalie echo in my ears.
“Are you ok, Taryn?” He asks, his face still between my legs.
“So, so, ok. But if you touch my clit again, I might cry. I’m so sensitive right now. I just need a little break.”
Tucker’s face falls, disappointment written all over his handsome features. “So I don’t get to make you come another time?”
My inner muscles flutter at his words. I can’t believe my body still wants more. But there’s no way my clit can take any more attention for at least a little while. “Not like this. But I wouldn’t say no to some other stuff.” I pull on the cotton of his t-shirt until Tucker climbs back onto the couch.
He’s still fully dressed and I’m almost naked. My dress is all bunched up around my waist.
I lift the hem of his t-shirt and he helps me take it off him by lifting his powerful arms over his head.
“Wow.” Is the only thing I can say as I take in Tucker’s unreal chest and abs.
Don’t get me wrong, Colsen’s body is utter perfection that would look right at home on an underwear build-board.
But Tucker? He’s unreal.
The night we met, I didn’t have chance to inspect the hot goalie to my heart’s content when Colsen and I helped him into bed to sleep off the sedative he got at the hospital.
But now nothing prevents me from taking a closer look at him and from touching his smooth, tanned skin.
I think I want to trace the edges of every single one of his tattoos with my tongue.
There are a few, and my eyes rove all over them, not knowing which ones to look at first.
My attention is attracted by the one on his chest, right over his heart. It’s a red heart enclosed in green, blue, and yellow flames with a dagger going through it.
I can’t help but trace the contours of it with the tips of my fingers. “This is pretty.”
Tucker covers my hand with his much larger one, keeping my palm flat against his chest. “I’m glad you like it. I got it this year during spring break.”
“It’s gorgeous. Doesn’t look like a drunken decision.”
“Because it’s not.” He explains. “I was stone sober when I got it. It’s a reminder.”
