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His mouth descends on me, the heat of his breath against my sensitive flesh making me squirm. He takes his time, and I suck in a harsh breath at the first stroke of his tongue along my slickened folds, my fingers burying themselves in the thick strands of his hair.
"Oh God..." I can't stifle the broken moan that spills from my lips as his tongue traces slow, languid circles around my clit. The pleasure is exquisite, each lick and suck pushing me closer to the edge.
His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he devours me. Broad, rasping strokes of his tongue lap up every fresh gush of my arousal before delving deeper. The roughness of his stubble against my inner thighs only adds to the sensations overwhelming me.
My hips undulate shamelessly as the tension inside me builds to a fever pitch. I'm reduced to a litany of mewling cries, my head tossing against the cushions.
And just when I fear I might shatter into a million pieces, Tucker's wicked tongue thrusts deep inside me. That's all it takes to send me arcing against him with a ragged scream as I detonate in the most cataclysmic release of my life.
Wave after wave washes over me as he works me through the shattering climax with merciless focus. By the time the final tremors subside, I'm left a quivering, boneless heap slumped against the cushions, my harsh pants echoing through the small room.
I blink dazedly, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Tucker prowls up my limp form in one sinuous, predatory motion. His expression is one of pure masculine satisfaction and possession as he looms over me, braced on sinewy forearms.
"You are so fucking beautiful like this," he rasps in a voice rendered husky with naked desire. "Wrecked and sated, every sweet inch of you mine for the taking."
I can only whimper softly in response, utterly incapable of forming words. Luckily, none are needed when his mouth slants over mine in a demanding kiss that steals what little breath remains in my oxygen-starved lungs.
I taste myself on his tongue as it delves deep, stroking and caressing in a blatant tease designed to rekindle the smoldering embers of my desire. It works with devastating effectiveness, my fingers scrabbling at the waistband of his jeans.
"Please," I manage to rasp against the searing heat of his lips.
Tucker's lips curve into a roguish grin as he pulls away from me, slowly straightening to his full height. My breath hitches in my throat at the sight of him, his body rippling with power and raw masculinity.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, the movement drawing my gaze to the impressive bulge straining against the denim. A rush of anticipation floods through me as he peels off the garment, inch by agonizing inch.
When he's finally standing before me in nothing but his boxer briefs, I reach out to him. My fingertips trace the sculpted lines of his abs, the dips and valleys of his muscles. I curl my fingers into the waistband of his underwear, tugging him toward me. The look of hunger in his eyes only fuels my own desire, a heady cocktail of need and lust coursing through my veins. My breaths come in short, sharp pants as I tug his boxers down over his thighs, and he steps out of them.
And then he's looming over me in all his rugged, naked glory, every sinewy muscle and battle-hardened plane cast in stark relief by the dancing firelight. My gaze travels hungrily over that magnificent form, lingering on the impressive length jutting from a thicket of dark curls.
I wrap my hand around him, his heat radiating into my palm. My fingers barely span his width, and I bask in the memory of him stretching me, filling me.
I stroke him in long, firm pulls, my other hand cupping the heavy weight of his balls. He throws his head back, a deep, guttural groan rumbling in his chest. The sound of it, the sight of him surrendering to my touch, sends a thrill of power through me.
Leaning forward, I swirl my tongue around the tip of him, tasting the salty bead of precum there. His hands fist in my hair, his hips bucking forward as he seeks more of my mouth.
I oblige him, taking him in incrementally, my jaw stretching to accommodate his width. I work him with my mouth and hand in tandem, the rhythm of it driving him wild.
"Fuck," he growls, his grip on my hair tightening. "You need to stop, or I'm gonna come in that pretty little mouth of yours."
The idea of it, of him losing control at my mercy, sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me. But I heed his warning, pulling away with a soft pop of my lips.
He hauls me to my feet, his mouth slamming onto mine in a bruising, possessive kiss. My body molds against his, my curves fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his body.
"I need to be inside you," he rasps, the words somehow both a plea and a demand.
"Yes," I breathe, the sound a shuddering echo of my own desperate need.
He steps out of his boxers and then settles between my splayed thighs. He reaches between us, positioning himself at my entrance. I can feel his thick crown nudging against me, and I arch shamelessly, silently pleading for him to sheathe himself fully, to claim me in the most primal way possible.
Tucker simply smirks, that chiseled jawline taut with barely leashed restraint. Then, with one smooth thrust, he's inside me, sheathing himself to the hilt in one searing stroke. My back bows with a ragged cry at the sheer fullness of him splitting me apart, that delicious ache radiating from my very core.
Tucker stills for a heartbeat, his forehead pressed to mine as we share ragged breaths. His eyes blaze into mine, and I tighten my inner muscles in a wicked squeeze, relishing his harsh groan of gratification.
"Christ," he rasps in a tone of strained reverence. "I could live inside this tight little pussy forever."
With those words, he withdraws in one torturously slow glide, only to surge forward again with bruising force. I keen softly at the shuddering fullness, my nails raking down the taut muscles of his straining shoulders to spur him onward.
He sets a punishing cadence, each powerful snap of those lean hips driving me relentlessly toward oblivion. The cabin is soon filled with the harsh sounds of our exertion—my broken whimpers and mewls mingling with the low, rumbling groans torn from deep in his chest.
