Lost (Captive Heart #1) (10 page)

T
hat thing began
to build again. That fullness feeling, the one where my toes curled and I couldn’t breathe and it felt like my head and vision were fuzzy.

“Fuck. Yes.” Tucker thrust in one more time before burrowing his head into my neck, no longer moving inside of me.

My body still buzzed, still felt like a bomb that just needed the detonator pressed ever so lightly to combust into a million tiny pieces.

But from the unmoving state of Tucker’s body, it was safe to assume he’d already finished. And I hadn’t.

Not that I would say anything to him. I hadn’t in the two months we’d been having sex, him sneaking us into anywhere we could be alone. I always almost got there, almost crested that peak. Or maybe I had and I just didn’t know it. After all, I don’t think I’d ever had an orgasm. I’ve been sneaking Cosmopolitan behind my mother’s back this summer, trying to learn new tricks to impress Tucker, and they say I should try to give myself one. But … masturbate? I wouldn’t even know where to start. I don’t want to look at porn. The whole thing stresses me out more than it turns me on.

So I go without, lying to Tucker each time he asks if I finished. Most times he doesn’t even ask anymore.

He rolls off me, walking towards the bathroom with that just-laid swagger he gets after we finish having sex.

“Mmm.” Tucker sighs and groans when he plops back down onto the bed beside me, the condom long gone in the trashcan in my bathroom.

My parents are gone for the weekend, giving me a full two days to spend with Tucker. It’s been nice, being able to see him for more than an hour or two, most of which we’re humping each other.

He hasn’t offered to take me to any of the parties he’s always going to, or even out to the movies or pizza or something. And I haven’t asked. I’m too scared to. I’m too scared it will make him leave.

I curl into him, his hands coming around me and tickling up and down my spine.

“Do you think I should leave?”

I was waiting for this, considering he’s been at my house all day. Besides the couple rounds of sex, he actually watched a movie with me, and we got takeout burritos.

“You don’t have to. My parents won’t be home until after lunch tomorrow. You could … you could stay over?”

It sounds like a question when I say it. We’ve never had a sleepover, but I dream about his arms wrapped around me, holding me close every single time I close my eyes.

There is silence from up above, and I keep my face pressed into Tucker’s neck so I don’t have to see the decisions he’s playing with in his eyes.

“Sure. I can stay.”

He doesn’t sound so sure.

“Great.” I pause, not sure how to deal with the sudden awkwardness. “Are you nervous to go to college?”

There are only two weeks left until we both go our separate ways, and we hadn’t addressed a thing yet. But there was a certain camaraderie between two people who were sleeping together. Not that I had much experience, but after sex, Tucker and I could talk about a lot of things we couldn’t talk about in the daylight. We had an understanding, this thing that connected us, even if it was only for a little while. For those brief periods, we were the only two people who existed in the world.

“Nah, I’m pumped. Really excited for football, and just stoked to get out of here.”

Although his words sting, I don’t think he’s talking about me. Or the Conestoga. I think he’s talking about getting out from under his father’s roof. And his thumb.

“What about you?” Tucker’s words interrupt my thoughts as his fingers stroking my back slowly lull me into a sleepy state.

“Yeah, I’m nervous. I just want to do well.”

He laughs softly. “You always do well. You’re going to be great.”

Those words coming from him fill me with more pride and ego than I’ve had in the last eighteen years.

“Do you think you’ll go into the NFL?

“Of course I will. I’m going to be the best wide receiver the Eagles have ever seen.”

“Oh, getting drafted by Philly, are we? How perfect.” I smile into his broad chest, feeling the newly minted muscles he’s gained in his intense summer workouts.

“You know it. Hometown hero, baby.”

My heart flips over and dies when he calls me baby.

Tucker lets out a yawn and flips me so that my back is to his front. “I’m beat, let’s get some sleep.”

I don’t think I’ll even be able to close my eyes tonight, but I go along with it, snuggling in close under the sheets. My heart is beating double-time, being this close to him in such an intimate way. This moment will surely brand itself into my brain forever.

“Do you need me to set an alarm or anything?” I want to be a courteous sleepover host.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Sleep well, Tuck.” I lace my hand in his.

“Sweet dreams, Char.”

When I wake up the next morning, I’m alone, wondering if the entire day before was simply my imagination.

I
’m
in the middle of Raskolnikov comparing himself to Napoleon when I hear such loud banging coming from outside the recreation building that I jump in my own skin.

Running outside, I expect to see a S.W.A.T team swarming the grounds and bullets whizzing past my head. Except when I look around, frantically swiveling my head, Camp Marsh is totally empty. Per usual.

The banging sounds again, a
thwack, thwack, thwack
that sounds like it’s coming from the back of the recreation building. My heart speeds up and what I’m anticipating, I don’t know. I just know I’m nervous and the sun is shining too bright and—

“What the hell are you doing?!” I scream at Tucker the moment I see him, a sledgehammer in his hands and a tool belt buckled to his body. He looks hot …
really
hot. I can’t help but stare at him as he slides the protective goggles off his face and into his turbulent curls.

“I’m fixing the siding. I noticed some mold growing over here, and I fixed the same problem on cabin twelve last week so I—”

“You fixed the side of cabin twelve? What … when?”

He fixes me with an irritated stare. “Last week, like I said.”

“Wha … where … where did you find all this?”

Tuck drops the sledgehammer with a huff and unscrews a water bottle that’s lying near his feet. “In the shed behind the mess hall, I remembered that’s where old man Marsh kept all of the tools and stuff.”

“And why are you doing this?” I point to the siding.

“What else do you think I’ve been doing while you’re lounging in there with your books? I figure if we’re crashing here, I might as well help spruce the place up.”

Even if he is a kidnapper and a rehabilitating drug-addict, that is the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever heard someone say.

“That’s really nice, Tucker.”

He waves me off and I think he’s blushing. “Aw man, it’s nothing.”

I check out the work he’s done so far and it actually looks pretty good. “Where did you learn to do this?”

He stares off at the lake, and I know he doesn’t want to meet my eyes. “When I was sober enough to keep a job down, it was usually in construction. The guys don’t ask a lot of questions, you don’t have to talk about your feelings or make friends. It’s just work.”

It made sense. He was always good with his hands … in many ways. But Tucker had always been more of a doer than a talker or a learner. Now that I really thought about it, construction suited him.

“Well … it looks good. Don’t let me keep you.”

I turn to go but his voice stops me. “What are you reading there anyway?”

I didn’t realize I still have Dostoyevsky in my hand. “Crime and Punishment, although why this is on the shelves at a summer camp I’ll never know. It was the one book I could never get through in high school, so I thought I’d try it now. Still don’t like it.”

“Oh I remember that one! He murders someone, right? And there are like prostitutes? That was the one book I read in high school.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “Figures.”

“It’s nice to see you smile.” Tucker is looking at me like he’s seen the sun.

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I’m suddenly all hot and squirmy.

“It was good, all those years ago, wasn’t it?” He steps closer to me and I can’t help but feel like a caged animal, for an entirely different reason than the one I’d previously had. Tucker is dangerous, not to my person, but to my heart.

As he stalks me, I need to put up a defense. I need to protect myself. So I go for something I don’t usually use. Something that usually isn’t in my arsenal. Sarcasm.

“Yeah, if you call you getting your rocks off and leaving me high and dry good.” I chuckle, just to get him to stop in his tracks.

“Wait, what?” He shakes his head, as if trying to deflect my words.

“Tucker, come on. We were kids, we both didn’t know what we were doing.”

He shakes his head again, his dark brown pools fixed on me as his fists clench and unclench. “You’re telling me … that you, you lied? You told me it felt good for you too.”

Oh men and their ego’s. “Yes, it did. But I never reached that big O. It’s fine Tuck, we were both stupid teenagers.”

He closes his eyes and his nostrils flare. When he opens them again, they’re almost midnight black. “It’s not fine. You’re telling me that for almost three months we fucked and you never had an orgasm?”

“Well, had sex, yes. But yeah, no.” I gulp, afraid of what he’ll say next. I didn’t expect this response out of him.

“Fucked, had sex, made love, slept together—whatever you want to say to make yourself feel proper, Char. But for God’s sakes, please don’t say this is fine. I’m a total fucking tool.”

I laugh, though this time all sarcasm is lost. It’s nervous and I stumble over the sound. “Um … okay, it’s not fine.”

He’s so close now that I can almost feel the overgrown stubble on his face tickling my chin. He looks rugged and sexy and my lady parts are yelling at me to do something about it.

“Come on.” Tucker grabs my hand, pulling me along with him in the direction of our cabins.

“Tucker, what … slow down!” He’s nearly pulling my arm out of the socket. He definitely doesn’t know his own strength. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m going to make this right.” He throws open the door to my cabin and pulls me inside.

“What are you … OH.” I finally realize what he’s talking about when he tries to pull my shirt over my head. “No, oh my God, stop. You really don’t have to do this.”

“Actually I really do. My ego is going to suffer and die if you don’t let me give you an orgasm right now.”

The glint in his eye tells me that isn’t all he’s planning to do. While the idea of him touching my body, licking and sucking me in my most intimate places, sends my head spinning … this can’t happen.

I cross my arms over my chest in the middle of the freezing cold cabin. “No, Tucker, we don’t have to do this. It’s really okay.”

“Would you stop saying that?” He says and then proceeds to take his own shirt off.

And my mouth goes dry. He’s all olive skin and sloping muscles and silk stretched over steel. His body is hypnotizing and I’m not sure that if the world exploded beside my head that I’d notice.

Now he’s stalking towards me, backing me up until I nearly trip over my mattress fort in the middle of the floor. Tucker catches me, his big, rough hands sliding down my arms so sensually that it felt like he was stroking the place now throbbing for only him.

“Lie down and let me make up for all of the fucking stupid things I did as a teenager. All of the stupid things I’ve done now.”

His naked flesh is too close to me, those dark eyes boring into my own. My head is at war with my body and my heart. I want this, I can almost feel his tongue feasting on me already. But I know shouldn’t. Know this will end so,
so
badly.

But he’s already laying me down, cradling my body in his hands and moving the blanket and sleeping bag over us to create some warmth. He intends to take my clothes off. My brain registers that, but I don’t fully understand until he’s pulling at the gaping sweatpants at my hips.

His fingers brush my hip and we both groan.

“Char …” My name is reverent on his tongue.

And I can’t stop this. Ever since he brought me here, ever since our eyes connected across the bank, it’s all been hurdling towards this. We’re two trains in the night who were bound to collide and although we will surely skid off the tracks, although there are destined to be casualties ahead of us, right now, there is no stopping.

He pulls at the material covering my body and I squirm, helping him tear it off. I’m suddenly hot and itchy; the only balm that will soothe me is his tongue inside of me. No matter that the temperatures in November are well below freezing, I don’t even feel it.

Once he frees my legs, he wastes no time and yanks down my boxers, the ones I found that I’ve taken to wearing because I have no real clothes of my own.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Tucker’s eyes are fixated on my core and it makes me even more impatient. I want to shove his beautiful, dirty mouth down onto me, but I don’t.

“What do you want me to do to you?” His eyes sparkle and I can see the brawn of his shoulders, his entire body dwarfing mine from the waist down.

Here’s the thing. I’ve never been vocal during sex. Hell, I’ve never been good at voicing my thoughts or opinions in life. I clam up, get awkward, and generally end up offending someone. So I just keep quiet.

“Char. Get out of your head for once. What. Do. You. Want?”

He snaps me to speak. “I want you to kiss me.”

While I might want his face between my thighs, I also want to know that if we’re doing this, it’s real.

Tucker slithers up my body, all of that strength encased in olive skin taunting me like some kind of mirage. This can’t be real.

He pushes my shirt up as he moves, finally making me arch up so he can shove it past my head and throw it behind us. And then he lays his body over mine, and I feel like I might float away if he wasn’t anchoring me to the mattress.

“I’ve wanted to taste your lips again. So. Badly.”

He closes his mouth over mine before I can respond. Not that I would have. I couldn’t if I tried; he’s stealing the air out of my lungs.

Tucker’s kissing me so thoroughly that my ears are buzzing. I can probably come just from the way he’s sliding his tongue into my mouth like it’s his cock.

Suddenly, and way to soon, he detaches and skates his teeth over my jaw, setting my skin ablaze.

“What do you want me to do?”

Again with the questions. I groan in frustration, just wanting him to kiss his way down my body and make me see stars.

“Yep,” he chuckles. “You’re not going to get away with faking or not talking this time. I want to hear every single thing. I want to make sure I’m rocking your world, which I have no doubt I’ll be able to do. But I want to hear it from your lips.”

Tucker lays a kiss on a certain spot behind my ears and my hips buck up into him.

“Interesting.” He smirks against my skin.

“Kiss … down my body.” I finally choke out some words.

“Your wish is my command.” The gleam in his eye is devilish.

He licks his lips before descending, his lips tattooing themselves into my skin. I feel them so forcefully, in every part of me, and I’m shaking by the time he reaches the apex of my thighs.

“What now?”

His evil grin is so close to where I need him to bring me relief.

“Make me come,” I moan, heat and shyness filling my cheeks.

“Oh fucking gladly, Char.”

He raises one pointer finger and skims it so lightly up and down my slick folds that I’m not even sure he’s touching me. But then I feel it. Tucker slowly and deliberately puts one finger to my clit, rubbing it in a small circle that could easily have the force of an electric jolt to my hypersensitive system.

“You smell like fucking heaven.” And then Tucker sticks his nose so close to my wet slit and actually sniffs me.

It’s dirty and taboo and no one has ever done anything like that to me in my life. Which only makes my entire body flush as I feel more wetness flood my core, like it wants to perform for him.

And then slowly, God so slowly that I’m almost yelling out in frustration, he runs the flat plane of his tongue from the bottom of my dripping core to the top, taking extra care to suck my clit between his teeth.

I buck up off the bed. “Oh my God!”

I don’t even recognize the person moaning until I feel the sensation of talking coming from my throat.

“Stay still or I won’t stick my tongue back in your sweet, fucking delicious pussy.”

Tucker meets my eyes and his are molten. I think my whole body is probably just mush under his arms now. No one has ever said the word pussy, or commanded me to do anything. It’s so hot I could probably burst into flames right here.

He feasts on me, alternating between his tongue and his teeth, working my slit until I’m shaking and whimpering.

Tucker looks up, stopping the sweet torture he’s inflicting upon me. “So tell me, am I better at this than I was when we were seventeen?”

I gulp, wanting him to continue so bad that I don’t mind being forced to talk. “Yes, please, Tucker.”

“What do you want? Come on, you have to tell me.”

Tucker won’t touch me, instead choosing to blow his hot breath across my swollen core.

“Ahhh.”

“Come on, Charlotte. Tell me with that pretty voice what dirty things you want me to do to your body.”

“Please, Tucker. Touch me. Make me come.”

I don’t even have to get the last word out and he’s thrusting a finger inside of me.

“Oh my God, Tucker … I’m going to …”

He adds his tongue, working his digit and mouth in tandem and I splinter. Completely break, the vibrations of my orgasm wracking my body so violently that I fear I’ll never stop shaking. Tucker milks me for everything I have, not removing his finger or his tongue even after I come down.

He’s still laying feather light kisses on my most intimate areas while I stare up at the ceiling mystified and bone-tired.

I only register him when he comes to lie next to me.

“I know I still have some repaying to do, but please, tell me that was amazing for you? Stroke my ego.”

I smile, still in the same position, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess it was okay.”

“Just okay? Jesus, I have some work to do.” Tucker moves to go back down my naked body.

“I’m kidding!” I laugh softly, pulling on his shoulder. “It was incredible. Did you not see me shaking harder than an earthquake?”

“Oh, I did. Felt it too.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin. I smack his arm.

We lay silent for a minute.

“So, you really don’t like to talk in the bedroom, huh?”

I blush at his comment. “I typically don’t, no.”

“That’s because you haven’t been with me.” He palms my cheek.

“Actually, I have been with you,” I remind him.

“Pssh, it doesn’t count when you’re a scrawny, awkward teenager. I’ve improved a lot over the years. As witnessed by my finesse just then.”