I swallowed any further protests, taking his lips once again, thrusting my tongue inside his mouth.
There was no doubt that he wanted this—wantedme—as much as I did. Brock’s fervor matched my own, his kisses as delicious as they were desperate. The taste of him made my head swim, the feel of his lithe body against mine enough to make me dizzy.
I wanted him in a way that I had never wanted anyone before, and no job—his or mine—was going to stand in the way of whatever was brewing between us. At least not tonight.
“Let’s get out of here,” I managed through strangled breath, fingers teasing the soft skin beneath the hem of his button-down. “I’m parked right down the street.”
“Johnny—”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I told him, my voice heavy with desperation. “One night, you set the pace, whatever you want.”
Fuck, here comes the begging. . .
“Please, Brock.”
He blinked, taken back by the sound of his own name.
“One night?”
“One night,” I repeated, the words sour on my tongue. The last eight-ish hours had felt like verbal foreplay, a battle of banter to see who’d give in to their urges first.
Answer: me.
At this point, I would take whatever he was willing to give me. And then, maybe, beg for more.
Brock took me by the hand, lacing our fingers together before giving me a slight tug in the opposite direction. “You see that building across the street? With the green awning.”
I nodded.
“That’s my apartment building.”
Oh, thank Christ.
This wasn’t the end. On the contrary, the night was just getting started. But I needed to hear him say it first.
“Are you saying—”
“I need you, Johnny.” His smile was alluring and sexy. He ran a finger across my jawline. “Is that clear enough for you?”
Fucking crystal.
Brock
Tuckerwasonmebefore the front door slammed shut. His lips tore into mine as his rough hands roved my body, eventually landing on my ass. Not that there was much for him to grab onto—I hadn’t been blessed with curves and muscles like him, no matter how many Pilates classes I attended.
“Fuck,” he groaned, trailing his teeth down my neck, chasing my racing pulse. “You don’t know what you do to me, Heller.”
“Tell me,” I managed between ragged breaths.
My god.
My body was on fire; my heart pounded in time with my throbbing cock. The fact that I was still able to formulate a coherent sentence was a goddamn miracle. Things were moving too fast, yet I couldn’t get enough.
Tucker dug his fingers into my ass, lifting me until my toes barely scraped the floor.Damn.There was something super sexy about being thrown around—consensually, of course—by a dude with thighs made for crushing watermelons. And he had—crushed watermelons, I mean. That TikTok video lived rent-free in my brain.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if Johnathan Tucker wanted to fold me in half and fuck me sideways, he absolutely could.
And I would let him.
