Teaching Tucker (Face-Off Legacy Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

  “Oh, hey,” Taylor says, straightening her shirt back over her tits, using Drake’s big body to hide behind. “We were just…”

  About to fuck?

  Drake winks at me, and I smirk in return. One minute Taylor acts like she likes him, and the next he’s running after her. She wants to be friends, then she wants to be his girl. I don’t understand their relationship. That shit would drive me crazy if Sam ever did that to me.

  “We’ll be upstairs,” I say to Drake.

  I lead Sam up the stairs, and she stands in the doorway staring into my room like it’s some off-limits place she’s not allowed to go. Or maybe she’s afraid of what might happen.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I won’t bite.”

  She pushes her hands to her hips and smiles. “What if I want you to bite me?”

  I close the distance between us, sliding my hand behind her, pulling her into my chest as I lean down to kiss her neck. She tilts her head to the side and sucks in a deep breath. Taking this as a sign to keep going, I graze my teeth along her skin. Sam lets out a soft moan and tugs at my shirt with her fingers.

  I drag her into the room kicking the door shut with my foot. Pressing her back against the wall, I make my way from her neck to her mouth. She hisses when I take her bottom lip between my teeth.

  “Tucker,” she whispers. “You’re such a bad boy.”

  “And you’re my good girl,” I growl against her mouth before slipping my tongue inside.

  She laughs between kisses. “Not when I’m with you.”

  Her words stop me from going further. I peel my lips from hers and look into her eyes. “I didn’t take you to Universal just to have sex with you.” Stepping back from her, I create some distance to gauge her reaction. “I don’t want you to think that was part of my master plan.”

  She reaches out for me, and I slip my fingers between hers. “I want you, Tucker. I want to show you how much.”

  I’ve never wanted anything more than Sam lying naked in my bed. I still can’t believe I ever let her get away.

  As I lift her up, she hooks her legs around my back. I plant soft kisses along her jaw, our mouths melded together as I move to my bed and lower her to the mattress. Making room for myself between her legs, I continue my slow exploration of her mouth. Her kisses are greedy and passionate. Mine are rough and intense. I’m like an animal, licking and sucking and biting her. She loves it, moans my name with each tug of her flesh.

  Our lips separate long enough for me to see the hunger in her eyes. She lifts her hips, and her shirt slides up her stomach. I slide my hand along her smooth skin and inch my way up to her tits. My cock is rock-hard poking her inner thigh. It’s almost painful to maintain this pace when I want to be inside her so fucking bad.

  Pinching her nipple between my fingers, I squeeze the tiny bud. She squeals as if this simple touch has caused her entire body to come alive.

  “Tucker,” she whines. “Stop torturing me.”

  A ghost of a smirk crosses my lips. She shakes her head at me, pure ecstasy mixed with sexual frustration written on her face.

  After sucking on her nipples, I kiss my way down her stomach and flick open the button of her jeans. I sit up long enough to pull them down her thighs along with her panties. Her pussy is shaved, so pretty and perfect and glistening with her juices. My cock presses against my jeans, the friction becoming too painful to stand.

  I lean forward and drag my finger along her slit, pushing two fingers inside her to test her slickness. She smells so good I want to lick every inch of her. Her eyes close as she raises her hips to push my fingers deeper.

  “I take that back,” I say, dipping my head between her thighs to lick her clit. “You’re a bad girl.”

  She opens her eyes to watch me, a smile on her lips. Her moans turn into screams, loud enough to wake everyone a block over on Greek Row. Sam puts on a show by gripping my hair between her fingers and screaming my name like a porn star.

  It’s always the shy, quiet types who surprise you. When we were together freshman year, I had no idea she was the teacher’s pet type. I had just assumed she was a sorority chick.

  After she comes, I strip off my clothes in a hurry and roll a condom down my length. Her eyes widen as I do this, and she licks her lips.

  Sam moans in my ear as I rest my elbows on both sides of her head taking it slow enough to kiss her. Her nails dig into my back and drag along my skin as I quicken my pace. The first time we were together I fucked her like a puck bunny.

  Now, she’s my girlfriend.

  It’s different this time.

  I want to satisfy her every need.

  “You won’t break me,” Sam mutters against my lips.

  Giving her what she wants, I pound into her pussy harder and faster, ripping a few screams from her lips. Gripping her hips, I claim every inch of her body, her pussy tightening around my cock. She’s so close I can feel it like a balloon that’s about to pop. Knowing how close she is, I chase her orgasm wanting to make her come again.

  She does. And it’s beautiful. Her body tenses before it relaxes, and once she fully lets go, her body trembles with each thrust of my cock. Sam has a sexy glare in her eyes as if she’s just come down from her high. I ride her high, mine right behind hers, consumed by the orgasm commanding control of my body.

  I collapse on top of her, kissing her lips before I roll onto the other side of the bed. Glistening in sweat, I look over at her. With her hair wild and cheeks flushed, she’s incredible, the only girl who has ever made me feel this way. I’m not sure if it’s love. My feelings for Sam are so strong and unfamiliar I have no idea what to call it.

  Sam curls up next to me, her sweat-slick skin pressed against mine, her face buried in the crook of his neck. I’m at a loss for words. I’ve never felt like this after sex. For the first time in my life, a sudden calmness washes over me. She puts me so at ease, making it easy for me to fall for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tucker

  Sam looks terrified as I park my car in front of her father’s house. She stares out the window biting the inside of her cheek. We haven’t spoken a word since we left the grocery store. I’ve heard plenty of stories about Jim Marchand—he sounds like the worst person on the planet. What kind of man would make his kid struggle the way he has Sam? I already hate him, and I haven’t even met him.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind.” Sam squirms in her seat, shooting me a worried look. “I hate coming here. You don’t have to do this with me.”

  I reach across the armrest to clutch her hand, holding it against her thigh. “I’m here for you, Sam. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “He’s not violent.” She squeezes my hand tighter and sighs. “He’s just an asshole who doesn’t care enough to get his shit together. Seriously, you can wait in the car, and I’ll run the food inside if you want.”

  “Hey,” I say, brushing my fingers along her jaw, staring into her eyes. “I’m here. Let me do this with you. We will get through it together.”

  She closes her eyes for a second and lets out a deep breath. “I’m so embarrassed of Jim. You come from money. You have famous parents, famous aunts and uncles, and I come from this,” she says, pointing at the rowhouse. “From a drunken degenerate gambler.”

  “Did I ever tell you about Preston’s family?”

  She scrunches her nose, thinking it over, and then shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. Just that his dad is a hockey player, and his mom is a sports agent.”

  “Preston’s dad was an alcoholic before he met his mom.”

  “But he was a pro hockey player.” She seems confused. “How could he drink and still play?”

  “He was a functioning alcoholic. After his dad died, he started drinking all the time. Preston’s mom made him stop drinking and helped him get his career back on track. Preston’s grandparents were both drug addicts. They died from an overdose when his mom was younger, and she was raised in foster care with J
amie’s dad. That’s how they became friends.”

  “Wow.” Sam relaxes in her chair, looking less stressed than before. “I had no idea.”

  “Jamie’s grandparents were both alcoholics. That’s how his dad ended up in foster care. They even named his dad after a bottle of whiskey.”

  “Jameson,” she says, nodding her head, now getting the reference. “Oh, that’s… interesting.”

  “You get what I’m saying, Sam? Most successful people don’t come from money. You look at your upbringing as a barrier, but I think that’s the reason you’re gonna make it. You never give up. I’ve never met a woman like you. No matter how hard you have to work, you keep going. And that’s what makes you unstoppable. It’s the reason I like you so much.”

  Love her so much.

  She smiles, brushing her fingers along my hand. “You’re nothing like what I thought all those years ago. I wish I had known the real Tucker all along. I would have made different choices if I did.”

  I have no idea what choices she’s referring to, but I nod that I understand.

  “It’s hard to grow up the way I did and not see someone like you thinking you have it all and that your life is perfect,” Sam adds.

  I snort. “Far from it. I have money and material things, but I was empty before I met you. I had hockey and my family and friends, but I was missing something.”

  She points a finger at her chest. “And that something was me?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I stopped drinking all the time after I met you. I started studying after that, too. You make me want to be a better man, Sam.”

  She flashes a closed-mouth smile. “I wish I had the same effect on my dad.”

  “You can’t change everyone,” I say. “But you did change me.”

  Sam hesitates, her lips part and shimmer with a light pink gloss. “If I can change just one person, then I guess I did my job. Right? I must’ve been a good teacher.”

  “You’re an example worth following,” I say with a wink.

  A few minutes later, we enter the house carrying bags of groceries. The entryway stinks of cigarettes, the paint on the walls stained from age and smoke. As we step into the living room, I stare in horror at the man on the couch across from us. Jim is passed out, a lit cigarette still in his hand, burning at the end. The ashes fall to the floor as the beer in his other hand spills onto the frayed carpet,

  Sam wasn’t lying about her dad or the condition of her childhood home. But this place isn’t a home. It’s a fucking nightmare. Seeing how this man lives puts my own life into perspective. Now, I see why Sam considers me a spoiled brat. I am by most people’s standards, but compared to Sam, my family might as well be the Rockefellers.

  “Wake up, Jim!” Sam drops the bags to the beat-up wooden coffee table and rips the cigarette from his hand, leaving it in the overflowing ashtray to burn out.

  Jim rolls onto his side, dumping the rest of the beer on the carpet, now snoring loud enough to hear him from across the room.

  Sam lifts the bags from the table and sighs, unable to look at me. “I didn’t want you to see this. It’s humiliating.”

  I cup her shoulder with my hand. “The way he lives is his fault, not yours. You’re not responsible for him. He’s the parent.”

  “More like a child,” she groans, leading me into the kitchen.

  I help Sam put the groceries away, and then she leans against the counter, her hands covering her face. She didn’t want me to come with her and maybe I should have listened to her, but I’m glad I came today. I needed to see for myself to truly understand how hard it is for her. Why she works so hard to make something of herself. I’m proud of the woman she’s become despite all the obstacles in her way.

  As I step in front of her, I peel her hands away, slipping my fingers between hers. “You’re not him, Sam. Don’t be ashamed.” I bend down to match her height, brushing my lips against hers. “Thank you for letting me in. I know how hard this is for you.”

  “Tucker,” she breathes. “I need to tell you something.”

  “No, you don’t.” I silence her by sweeping my tongue into her mouth, making her forget whatever she was about to say.

  She presses her chest to mine and curls her fingers around my biceps. We get lost in the moment, instantly forgetting about the fact we’re standing in her father’s kitchen, in his shithole house. I feel her fear shaking through her and want to take away her pain with each kiss. I never thought I could care about anyone as much as I do Sam. And it scares me. This time, she’s the one who could break me. We could break each other.

  Our kiss ends with Jim screaming for someone named Savannah. “Savannah, is that you?” he yells from the living room.

  Sam stills in my arms, closing her eyes as she lets out the breath of air she was holding. “He does this every time. He gets so drunk he thinks my mom is still alive.” A tear slides down her cheek, and as it does, I wipe it away with my thumb.

  “I’m here, Sam.” I kiss the spot on her cheek where the tear once was, making my way down to her jaw, planting soft kisses everywhere. “I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re too good to be true,” Sam whispers, her eyes open and wet with tears. “Sometimes, I think I’ll blink, and you’ll be gone. It freaks me out that I’m starting to need you, Tucker.”

  “I need you, too, Sam, and not for the selfish reasons you might think.”

  She smiles, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I was so afraid to bring you here, but now I’m happy I did. Thank you, Tucker.”

  I plant a quick kiss on her lips. “Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

  She smiles against my lips. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

  Just like that, I know without a doubt that I’m in love with Sam. I still have no idea how it happened. She took me by surprise. But I’m glad she did because I couldn’t imagine spending another second of my life without her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sam

  My nipples are like daggers from the chill in the rink. Rubbing my hands together, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get warm.

  “Is this your first time here?” Bex, Preston Parker’s girlfriend, asks me.

  “Yes,” I say, my teeth chattering.

  Bex laughs. “I can tell.” She lifts the scarf on the bench between us and offers it to me. “Here, this should help.”

  She’s pretty and blonde, built like an athlete, and close to six feet tall. Bex is relaxed, far too comfortable wearing only a Strick U hockey sweatshirt and jeans. On her other side, her friend, Taylor, looks as though she’s never spent a winter in the city. With two layers of clothing beneath her coat and a scarf wrapped around her mouth, she sits with her gloved hands in her pockets rocking back and forth from the cold.

  Bex follows my line of sight. “Taylor is from California. She’s still not used to the cold.”

  “She must stay indoors all winter long then.”

  “I try,” Taylor mutters through the fabric covering her mouth. “But Bex makes me endure every single game.”

  “Please.” Bex chuckles. “You’re here to watch Drake play not to keep me company.”

  “Maybe a little bit of both,” Taylor admits, keeping her eyes on the guys playing hockey in front of us. “Drake looks good in his uniform.”

  Jemma, Trent’s pregnant girlfriend, taps my thigh to gain my attention. “Trent told me about your first date with Tucker. He really pulled out all the stops, huh?”

  It’s kind of awkward having this conversation with Jemma. She had sex with my boyfriend, though apparently not on purpose. Still, it’s a little strange to sit next to one of his former lovers. Being part of his world hasn’t been easy. Tucker is so over-the-top, larger than life, and I’m still trying to figure out how I fit in with everyone.

  “Tucker really shocked me,” I admit to Jemma. “I had no idea he could be so romantic.”

  Jemma moves her hand to her stomach and smiles as if she�
�s in pain.

  I lean in closer and ask, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She closes her eyes for a second and then opens them again. “I get these weird pains sometimes. Probably just gas or something.”

  Bex leans over me to talk to Jemma. “You need me to go get Doc?”

  I assume she’s talking about the team doctor. Bex knows everyone in the building from the people who scanned our tickets to the team staff.

  Jemma laughs, rubbing her growing belly. “He’s an orthopedic surgeon. I don’t know how much he could do for me. I’m sure it’s nothing. Trent damn near loses his mind any time I have even the slightest discomfort, but there’s nothing comfortable about being pregnant.”

  According to Tucker, Jemma got pregnant the first time she had sex with Trent. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if that had happened to me. My life is hard enough. I already have one child to support—my father.

  “Okay,” Bex says. “Let me know.” Her eyes shift toward the ice, and when she zones in on Preston, her face illuminates.

  Her father is the head coach of the men’s ice hockey team. Preston and Bex started dating behind his back at the beginning of the season, right before Tucker contacted me about tutoring him. It doesn’t seem like five months have passed since Tucker messaged me on Strick Net. I wasted so much time in the beginning in an attempt to avoid him, but the universe kept pulling us together.

  I still haven’t found the courage to tell him about my involvement with The Queen. Every day, I debate how to approach the conversation, and each day I chicken out. I don’t want to ruin what we have. Not with how fast my feelings are growing for him. But, at some point, I have to confess.

  “Yes,” Bex yells, smacking her hands together, rising from the bench as the goal horn sounds throughout the rink. “That’s my man.”

  This is my first hockey game. I know nothing about the sport. Following suit of those around me, I stand, helping Jemma up to her feet. The crowd claps and cheers for the Senators, and I feel an immense amount of pride when Bex says that Tucker’s assist was the reason for Preston’s goal.