And I giggled then, my breath muffled slightly against the pillowcase.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Amazing,” I agreed.
The big man just rumbled once more, chuckling deeply in his throat.
“My last name’s McGrath by the way,” he dropped casually. “Just thought we should be on a last name basis.”
And I flushed slightly. Oh my god, he was right. I only knew his first name, he’d been Tucker the Delivery Man in my head until two seconds ago.
“I’m Laurie Holmes,” I said quickly. “Laurie Evelyn Holmes.”
And the big man’s quirked his mouth at me, amused. Oh god, that mouth, those lips, where they’d been. I shivered again just thinking about it, my body tensing oh so slightly from the memory.
But Tucker was unperturbed, coolly casual, always in control.
“I know, Laurie Holmes, NYC Concierge has your credit card info. I know everything about you already,” he said with a sly smile.
And I flushed again. God, I hardly seemed in control of my body around this man, it was beyond crazy, so wild.
“Just wanted you to know,” I murmured, cheeks slightly pink. “Just in case, you know, for …”
But what for? I bit my lip. Here I was, completely nude in front of a man I’d met twice in my life, a man who’d sampled my pussy and ass, tasted me everywhere, taking my virginity, and yet I was tongue-tied, not sure what to say next. Because where were we headed next? What were we exactly? A quick fuck? A drive-by, much-needed form of stress relief? Suddenly, I felt a little sad. Sure, I couldn’t expect much but at the same time, it sucked to think that I meant nothing to Tucker, that I was just a momentary distraction and nothing else.
But Tucker surprised me. He slapped me on the ass, his big palm leaving a handprint that flashed pink and then melted, my skin growing hot as he pressed his lips to the mark.
“How about some pizza and beer tomorrow night?” he murmured against my white cheeks. “You free?”
I was silent for a moment. Was my delivery man asking me out? Like on a date, where we got to know one another, talked and exchanged information about each other, revealing ourselves? Something in my chest bloomed and I inhaled deeply, suddenly ridiculously happy, a smile wreathing my lips.
“Sure, I’d love to,” I murmured, looking up at him from between my lashes. “But after five okay? I don’t get off work until five.”
And he grinned at me.
“Don’t worry baby girl, I’ve gotta work during the day too,” he said, his voice like silk. “Seven okay with you?”
“Sure,” I smiled again. Oh fuck, but my nips were growing tight with need. I tried to hide it, shifting my forearm to press against my breasts but nothing escaped Tucker’s observation. He just pulled my arm away to drop a kiss on one tip, and then the other, before reaching for his pants, pulling them back on, hiding that magnificent staff from my view. I hadn’t realized I was staring, mouth probably open, hungry for that man meat because Tucker just laughed when he saw it.
“Oh you’ll get more of it, don’t worry baby girl,” he growled. “Just come over tomorrow night and you’re get your sweet fill, guaranteed,” he promised, his eyes on fire again. “But for now, I’ve got a couple more deliveries to make. Gotta roll, honey. The address is 501 Greenwich Street. Got it? Just remember 501, like Levi’s 501’s.”
And my forehead scrunched for a moment as I pulled up a mental map of the city. He was inviting me to his apartment? How sweet, New York apartments are so small so usually people hang out in bars and restaurants. Furthermore, street numbers in NYC are completely predictable and you can pinpoint where someone lives based on little information, and in this case I was coming up with a “non-compute.” I gazed at him, puzzled.
“Is that at the intersection of Greenwich and Venable?” I asked. “Right next to Bubby’s?” Bubby’s was a high-end breakfast place famous for its blueberry pie, but even more, Bubby’s was in the heart of Tribeca, the most expensive neighborhood in Manhattan. Tucker lived there? How could he afford it? Well, maybe he was splitting the rent with five guys, sharing a huge loft partitioned into multiple living spaces.
But the delivery man just dropped a kiss on my forehead, pulling on his baseball cap, shielding his face once more, only that strong jaw visible.
“Yep, right next to Bubby’s,” he confirmed, picking up his gear. “Now I gotta roll, customers are waiting.” And with a wink, he was gone, my front door clicking shut behind him. And I sprawled on my bed, lying back, my hair a mess on the pillow, my body completely sated and relaxed, but slowly starting to hum once again. Because I couldn’t wait to see him, couldn’t wait to get to know Tucker … and sample that big body once more.