Roustabout

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  Tucker swallowed, and I watched as his gaze tracked down my body.

  “I thought we were going to give this friendship thing a try?”

  I sighed. “Yes, sorry. You’re right. It was a bad idea.”

  “I didn’t say that,” he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear him even though I pretended that I hadn’t.

  I sighed remembering all the reasons why sleeping with Tucker again was a bad idea: manwhore, distance, absentee father, my brother’s best friend. Repeat ten times.

  The mantra echoed in my head. Nope, it wasn’t working.

  He was honorable, kind, sweet, funny . . . I still wanted him.

  I cleared my throat. “There are some takeout menus in the drawer. Choose something: we’ll order in.”

  “Pizza okay?”

  “Knock yourself out. I’m going to unpack. The bathroom is through there.”

  I dumped my suitcase on the bed and started sorting the contents: laundry basket, drycleaners, back in the closet.

  I heard Tucker order the food and then there were several minutes of silence. I wondered what he was doing, but when I looked up, he was leaning against the door watching me.

  “Oh my God! You made me jump! Creep much, Tucker?”

  “I’m in a woman’s bedroom, it’s like an instinct,” he grinned.

  I rolled my eyes. “That makes you sound so appealing.”

  He winked at me. “I could use a shower, if that’s cool with you. I won’t mind if you want to creep on me a lil bit . . . or if you want to conserve water.”

  “Friends, remember?” I laughed.

  “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

  I frowned when he left. His flirting was confusing me. Just being around him was hard enough. And it didn’t help that I was flirting back. Hell, I even invited the guy to sleep in my bed—talk about mixed signals.

  Belgian chocolates, toast drowning in butter, boxed sets of ‘Sons of Anarchy’—why do we always want what’s bad for us?

  I heard the shower running and it made me want to walk inside and watch Tucker getting all hot and wet. No: friends didn’t shower with friends.

  To block out the sounds, I plugged in my iPod and blasted out Nate Ruess, but it couldn’t block out the images of my increasingly feverish imagination. I could almost see the water running over his back, his chest, his taut stomach and tight ass, cascading over his hard . . .

  I only just managed to hear the door buzzer and had to rush out to the annoyed pizza deliveryman. I was going to tip him double, but the way he looked at my boobs was probably enough of a gratuity.

  I snatched the pizzas and stomped back inside, dumping them in the small kitchen.

  I heard the shower turn off and a minute later Tucker strolled into my living room wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. His wet hair was slicked back and water was dewing on his chest and arms, lazy drops rolling down the ridges and dips of his abdomen.

  But those weren’t the only things that caught my attention: his ribs and back were covered in bruises, fading from purple to yellow.

  “Oh, Tucker!” I gasped, my eyes filling with tears.

  He looked down at his chest, his expression rueful.

  “It looks worse than it feels, sugar,” and he reached into his backpack and pulled out a crumpled shirt to cover up the worst of it.

  “I had no idea . . .” I said helplessly.

  “I’m fine,” he said, shrugging it off. “I’ve had worse.”

  I was having trouble believing him, especially when he put the sling back around his neck and situated his arm with a look of relief.

  “I’m so sorry . . . about my father.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not your fault, TC.”

  “No, but . . . thank you for not reporting him to the police.”

  Tucker shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  I felt humbled by his words.

  “Thank you,” I said softly.

  He smiled briefly, seeming uncomfortable with my gratitude.

  “That pizza smells good,” he said, heading for the kitchen.

  While we ate, Tucker kept up a steady stream of jokes, mostly aimed at himself, as well as stories about life with the carnival. I knew he was deliberately distracting me, but I let it go. After all, I’d already spoken to my father and doubted it made a shred of difference.

  When Tucker finished his pizza, he took a beer out to the balcony and spent several minutes staring into the distance.

  I wasn’t used to having someone in my apartment and I kept throwing glances at his unmoving form. It was slightly unnerving.

  When I met my friends, we mostly went to bars or clubs. Sharing a takeout meal in my apartment felt almost more intimate than the moment he had me naked beneath him, my body wet and wanting, the second before he pushed inside and made me scream his name.

  But maybe takeout pizza was nothing to a practiced player like Tucker who was used to communal living.

  Thankfully, he was surprisingly easy to have around, cleaning up after dinner, despite only having one working arm. Aimee had told me he was a slob in his own room, but when you had four adults living in the RV, you had to keep the family areas tidy.

  He stretched his good arm over his head then yawned.

  “Are you all tuckered out?” I asked drily.

  He snorted with amusement. “I haven’t heard that since grade school,” he smiled. “But yeah, I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll call it a night; I just need to ice my shoulder first.”

  “Oh, of course!”

  I jumped up, annoyed that I’d forgotten he should do that.

  “Did you remember to take your pain meds?”

  “Yep, sure did. They’re what’s making me sleepy.”

  I passed him a bag of ice wrapped in a towel and he eased it onto his shoulder with a sigh, leaning back on the couch, his eyes closed.

  “Thanks, Tera.”

  I was so used to him calling me ‘TC’, hearing my full name sounded more personal. I wondered if he knew he’d done it.

  I left him on the couch and hurried through my nightly routine, pulling on the only cute pair of pajamas that I owned. Then I had to climb to the back of my closet to find sheets and pillows for my unexpected guest.

  Tucker smiled gratefully when I walked back in, murmuring that he’d take his turn in the bathroom.

  I made up the couch and waited for him to come back out.

  “Are you gonna tuck me in, TC?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

  “Don’t push your luck, McCoy!”

  I turned to walk away, but he caught my hand.

  “Wait, TC! I just . . . thanks for letting my sorry ass stay at your place. After everything that went down, it’s really nice of you.”

  He squeezed my fingers gently, sincerity shining in his eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” I whispered, as he let my hand go.

  “Tera,” he called after me. “I don’t know how it will be with Scotty. I don’t know how to be a father . . .”

  “You’ll be a great dad, Tucker. I know you will.”

  He shook his head, his eyes defeated.

  “I’m going to try, but . . .” and he looked up at me. “I’m not with Renee, and I’m not going to be. I just . . . I wanted you to know that.”

  I nodded, but didn’t speak. If I had, I might have cried.

  Tera

  I tried to sleep.

  I needed to be at work at 8AM and it had been a tiring week. But even though I screwed my eyes shut and lay as still as a plank of wood, sleep eluded me. Instead, all my moments with Tucker ran like an erotic, pornographic movie behind my eyelids.

  Frustrated, I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

  The blanket of darkness left my eyes wide open, giving me too much space to think. Too much room to corral my wayward thoughts. Too much thinking, too many thoughts, and I tossed and turned restlessly.

  The Pacific breeze set off the wind chimes that I kept on the balcon
y, a sound I usually found soothing; and even the quiet hum of the air conditioning seemed loud.

  I was listening out for Tucker: a rustle of sheets as he moved around on the couch, soft footfalls on the floor that meant he was coming to my room. But there was nothing.

  Silence.

  Sighing with frustration, I tiptoed into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Yes, I could have gotten water from the bathroom, and yes, I could have walked through the bathroom to get to the kitchen. I just happened to walk through the living room instead.

  I could see the bulky outline of Tucker’s body on the couch. The sheet had slipped to his waist and I paused beside him, staring at his hard chest, examining the darker shadow of his bruises now that he’d removed his shirt again.

  I jumped when he spoke.

  “Can’t sleep, sugar?”

  “No,” I whispered, then wondered why I was whispering. “No,” I said again, more clearly.

  “Me neither.”

  He sat up slowly, careful of his damaged shoulder. Then his eyes traveled across my body, pausing at my chest, before looking up at me.

  “This ‘friends’ thing is hard,” he said ruefully.

  I flopped down next to him on the couch.

  “Why did we decide to do this again?” I asked.

  He shook his head and sighed. “Because we’re on two different roads, TC. Crossing paths was an accident, but it’s not meant to be.”

  I suppressed a giggle at his serious tone. “You’ve been hanging out with that old fortuneteller too much.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, probably. Doesn’t make it any less true though.”

  “Can’t we make our own road, choose our own path?”

  “Do you want to?”

  I nodded fervently, but Tucker looked away.

  “I don’t see how we . . .”

  I placed a finger against his lips.

  “Let’s just try.”

  He reached for me and then hesitated.

  “Fuck, Tera, if we start, I won’t want to stop.”

  “I’m not asking you to stop.”

  I straddled his lap, lightly resting my hands on his shoulders, and pressed my lips gently against his. A low growl sounded in his throat and he kissed me back, deeply, passionately with an edge of reckless desperation.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since Nashville airport,” he grit out, as his hands slid around to the small of my back, pulling me firmly against his fast-growing erection.

  My hands wound into his hair, tightening roughly as our breaths grew ragged, and the way he held me bordered on the edge of painful.

  When his hands slid under my pajama top, I could feel his rough palms on the smooth skin of my back, his short nails tracking over my spine. Then he tugged on the hem of my shirt and started to pull it over my body, but let out a curse as he raised his hands.

  “Fuckin’ arm!”

  He slumped back against the couch massaging his shoulder, his lips peeled back in a grimace.

  “Are you alright?” I gasped, laying one hand against his chest, feeling his heart pounding furiously.

  He nodded quickly.

  “Yeah, sorry. I just forgot . . .”

  “It’s okay. Let’s go to my bedroom. We’ve got more room. And then I can ride you properly.”

  His eyes widened in shock. “Hearing you talk like that . . . !”

  “I’m not a princess, Tucker. I’m a woman. I thought you knew that.”

  “Fuck, yeah!” he grunted, his voice husky.

  I shuffled back off him, missing the hot press of his body against mine.

  “Wait,” he said standing up, his voice an intense rumble. “Your shirt . . .”

  I yanked it over my head and he was on me instantly, licking, biting, sucking, kissing, kneading my breasts with his hands, lowering his face to meet them.

  “Bed—more room!” I gasped, tearing myself away before he took me right there.

  But we didn’t get that far. I crashed into the breakfast bar and Tucker hoisted me up awkwardly with one arm.

  “Lift!” he ordered, tugging on the lower edge of my pajama shorts.

  I held my weight on my hands as I lifted my butt and he yanked the material off. The granite counter was cold, making me shiver.

  Tucker knelt in front of me, pushing my legs apart. I felt wanted and wanton, my head thrown back, my breasts jutting forward, my hands gripping the hard granite. Heat poured from my body, rivulets of sweat running down my back. He nuzzled my stomach, then spread hot kisses over my pubic bone before I felt his tongue pressing inside as he spread me out like an X-rated buffet.

  I cried out and my knees shook.

  Tucker licked and sucked the soft skin of my inner thigh, then his tongue disappeared inside me. In seconds, I was clenching around him, only his strong hands keeping me from crushing his head with my legs.

  I felt Tucker’s soft laugh against my swollen clit, the vibration sending a thrilling shock through my whole body. I gripped onto his hair with both hands, tugging hard.

  He hissed as my knuckles whitened, pulling his hair harder, and he retaliated by biting at the soft flesh of my inner thigh.

  “Oh, sorry!” I gasped, easing my grip.

  He didn’t reply, but slid one hand to my ass, pulling my mound closer to his face, burying himself in my short curls. Looking down, all I could see was the top of his head, but the sounds! I could hear how wet I was, and if I wasn’t so close to coming, I would have been mortified.

  Tongue, fingers, teeth—his furious attack, his focused concentration, his need to pleasure me regardless of his own arousal sparked my orgasm, catching fire as tremors ran up my body, finally igniting in a rush as my eyes closed and fireworks exploded through my brain.

  Pushing me wider, he bit down on my clit, then sucked it hard as I came and came, trembling and groaning.

  “I need . . . I need . . .” he hissed, his voice sending a shudder through me.

  The words were ripped from him unwillingly, Tucker reluctant to admit how much he wanted this, too.

  “What do you need?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “You’re asking questions . . . can’t think . . . no blood in my brain . . .”

  A breathy giggle erupted out of me and I stood on Bambi legs. Tucker followed quickly, catching my hand in his and kissing me senseless all the way to my room. Against the wall, by the hallway, thudding against the door as we crashed into my room, mindless with need, eyes clouded with desire.

  He was naked except for a pair of tight-fitting gray briefs that left nothing to the imagination. Besides, I’d seen Tucker fully erect before, and even now, the head of his dick was pushing out of his waistband.

  I gripped hold of him, pressing over the soft material, and I felt the muscles of his stomach tense, his breath hitching at the same time.

  Suddenly I wasn’t moving fast enough, and Tucker all but dragged me with him.

  As I hit the bed, my knees started to buckle and I fell backwards, Tucker’s one good arm not enough to hold me up any longer.

  Vaguely, I was aware of the soft rustle of cotton and the mattress dipping as Tucker climbed in beside me. I felt his aggressive tongue on my breasts, his teasing bites that had me gasping, and finally as he kissed me deeply, I tasted sweet Tucker and my own salty arousal.

  “Don’t stop,” I muttered hazily, another orgasm hovering just out of reach.

  “Wasn’t gonna.”

  I felt the blunt head of his dick at my entrance, rock hard, patience gone as Tucker rotated his hips, ready to crash inside me, but I managed to think coherently and pushed him away.

  “Condom!” I hissed, my voice urgent.

  His eyes widened. “Shit! I’ve never forgotten that before. Please tell me you have some in your bedside drawer.”

  I laughed breathlessly. “I do, but I’m not sure you’ll want to wear it.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “It’s a novelty one that a girlfriend ga
ve me. It, um, glows in the dark.”

  Tucker laughed hoarsely. “Hell to the yes, even if my dick is going to look like Dr. Banner getting his freak on.”

  I reached into the drawer while Tucker rolled onto his back, his chest and stomach rising and falling rapidly.

  “Put it on, sugar,” he said, his voice like gravel. “I want to see your hands on my dick.”

  “I can do better than that,” I whispered.

  I knelt down and pulled his dick toward me, the leaking head glistening. Sucking deliberately hard, Tucker’s hips convulsed toward me and a string of impressive curses rolled from his dirty mouth. In one, long, swallowing motion, I took him inside me.

  His tip hit the back of my throat and I moaned around him.

  “God, Tera! That sound! You rock my world.”

  His hands grabbed my hair, pulling me in more firmly.

  It didn’t feel like friendship or even friends with benefits: it felt possessive.

  And I liked it.

  Tucker

  This whole evening—hell, this whole day—had been a complete mind-fuck.

  I’d woken up alone, my shoulder pulsing with pain, the owner of a $25,000 Ducati Panigale Super Sports motorcycle.

  Now I was broke, bikeless, a busted flush, being given amazing head by the sexiest goddamn woman I’d ever met.

  The only thing that hadn’t changed was my fucked up shoulder. And the fact that my kid was out there in the world.

  I was thrown, I admit it.

  Nothing made sense, but at this moment, this wonderful crazy moment, everything made sense.

  I looked down at the hotter than hell sight of Tera’s blonde hair sweeping over my thighs, her red lips stretched around my dick.

  As I watched, my mouth hanging open, my chest heaving, I thought I could see her eyes watering. The faint orange glow of street lights shining through her window made it hard to tell, but I gently eased her off of me anyway.

  I pulled her onto my chest, kissing her hard to show my appreciation, then I grabbed the condom from the sheet where she’d dropped it and handed it to her.

  She stretched out her neck and worked her jaw some. Yeah, sugar, I’m a big boy.

  Watching her tear open the packet while her eyes were fixed on mine was enough to make my brain melt.

  For the first time in a long while, I wondered if I was going to last. I was so damn horny, the odds weren’t good.