My Best Friend's Ex(83)

"Spread your legs." She does as she's told so I finger the outside of her pussy. "You want relief, right here?"

She nods. "Yes." Her voice is but a whisper. "I need it, Tucker."

"Tell me, Emma," I move my mouth over her cheeks, down her jaw, to her neck, and then nip at her nipples, "Is your clit hard for me?"

I clamp down on one of her nipples just as she says, "God, yes."

Knowing I don't have all morning, I move my hand down to her pussy where she groans from the contact and start rubbing her clit with my thumb as I insert two fingers inside her. She gasps from the insertion, pauses momentarily, but then relaxes and lets me work my hand as I play with her nipples in my mouth.

Her hips rotate against my hand and as the hot water pelts me, and I take in the moment when her pussy clenches around my fingers and she pants my name while her orgasm eclipses her stunning face. I love how vocal she is. It's sexy as hell.

She starts to fall from the clouds as she goes limp against the wall. I scoop her up and bring her under the water to warm up her body. She rests her head against my chest and hugs my waist as the shower splashes around us. It's a personal and intimate moment, one I've never experienced. It's us. Emma and Tucker. Honestly? I want to soak it all in because this right here, this makes me happy. My beautiful, incredible Emma makes me happy.

***

"Why are you smiling?"

I point to my chest. "I'm not smiling, you're smiling."

Emma sits on the counter, her wet hair tied up in a bun, an oversized shirt covering her otherwise naked body, and a cup of coffee in her hands. She's smiling like a fool as she watches me make the eggs she requested when we were drying off from our shower. Unlike her, I need to get to work so fucking Julius doesn't go off on one of his egotistical rants.

"I'm not smiling," she lies as she tries to hide her smirk behind her coffee cup, her Monday coffee cup.

I set the spatula down on the stove, fuck spoon rests, and saunter over to her. I situate myself between her legs and place my hands on her thighs.

"You're smiling and I can guess two reasons why." I hold up my fingers as I count them off. "Sex in the shower and me eating you out on the sink." I couldn't help it; I needed to taste her one more time before I left her.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a cocky son of a bitch?" She puts her coffee cup on the counter and runs her hands over my shoulders.

"Thick dicks are usually cocky, babe," I tease, garnering an eye-roll from her and a chuckle from me.

"Oh my God, I hate you."

"Nah, you don't hate me. You like my dick way too much."

"Eh." She shrugs and then says, "Now your tongue, that I can keep around."

"Hey," my brows knit together, "you're going to give my dick a complex."

She pats my crotch gently. "He'll just have to prove himself tonight. Show me he's the better muscle." She rubs her hands together. "Tongue versus dick, I wonder who's going to win."

I laugh and rub her thighs. "Sounds like you're the winner in the end."

She gives me an adorable smile. "Yeah, pretty much."

I shake my head and kiss her quickly on the forehead before going back to the eggs. "You're sex-crazed."

"This coming from the man who just had to lick me one more time before he went to work."



       
         
       
        

I glance over my shoulder at her and say, "Wanted to make sure you tasted the same, see if you were as good as I remembered."

"And the verdict?"

"You tasted better." I wink and grab two plates for our eggs. I dish out our breakfast and bring the plates to our little card table in the dining room. Emma follows behind me with silverware and our coffee. We work seamlessly together and it feels so . . . natural. I've never experienced this either.

She takes her first bite of the eggs and moans with her eyes closed. I watch her mouth chew and swallow which only causes me to have to readjust myself in my chair. When she takes another bite and moans, I clear my throat and say, "All right, no more egg moaning."

"Egg moaning?" She looks genuinely confused.

I point my fork at her. "When you eat, keep your happy-stomach moans to yourself. You're making me hard."

"You're getting hard watching me eat eggs?"

"No," I adjust again. "I'm getting hard hearing you moan, which just so happens to be the same sound you make when I rub my nose along your inner thigh. So cut it out."

She crosses her arms over her chest and studies me for a second, trying to tell if I'm serious. I am, I am so fucking serious. No egg moaning. "Fine," she answers. "If I can't moan while eating eggs, you can't wear those clothes."