Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I just rolled my eyes again because there was no way Tucker could afford it on his salary. He was a delivery man and there was no way NYC Concierge could be paying him enough to outfit me with a whole new set of clothes.
But I let it go because my stomach had growled again and I was really, really hungry. While we were talking, he’d led me to the dining room and the décor took my breath away. Oh fuck, there was an exquisite dining set, all gleaming mahogany, set with silverware that sparkled and shone, dish-ware so fine it was like looking through an eggshell.
But the food itself was even more appetizing. Because Tucker had ordered pizza, sure, but this wasn’t Domino’s or Round Table. Three steaming pies were laid out on the table, three artisanal pizzas with fancy toppings like arugula and Iberico ham interspersed with blobs of the finest hand-thrown mozzarella.
“Oh my god, what is this?” I asked dumbfounded. Again, I’m a girl who usually eats Little Caesars, so this was about ten steps up. “Where’d you get this?” I asked, my mouth watering already, the savory tomato scent tickling my nostrils.
And the big man just grinned.
“Baby, I said beer and pizza but I wasn’t going to order fast food or any shit like that. Hell no, I want you to eat your fill, how else to put on twenty pounds?” he added wickedly, throwing a sly glance my way. “This stuff is from an artisanal pizza place down the street that also brews their own beer, here take a sip,” he offered.
And I licked my lips as he filled a stein with the amber liquid, the glass immediately beading with sweat. Fuck, it looked good and I couldn’t wait to feel the beer trickling down my throat, I was hardly the hoity-toity type who only drinks wine from France. I mean, I love wine and wouldn’t turn down a glass but I like beer too, I’m happy with a Bud or a Coors Light on occasion, it’s a throwback to my roots. So I nodded happily as Tucker topped off the stein, careful blowing on the foam before handing it over to me.
“Mmm,” I moaned as I took a gulp of the good stuff. “Mmm,” I moaned again. It was frothy with a deep earthy scent, exactly as beer should be. And my eyes flipped open to find the big man staring at me.
“Fuck,” he rasped harshly. “It was like seeing you drink my sperm, how much you love it, how you eat it up.”
And I smiled wickedly at him.
“I do love it,” I cooed. “I love tasting it, wanna give me a sip, now before dinner?”
I could see the big man debating the offer, fighting an internal struggle before shaking himself, literally jerking his head in an effort to stay sane.
“I’d love to baby girl, only too happy,” he rumbled, eye-fucking my lips, tracing that perfect pink pout. “But for now, you’ve got twenty pounds to put on and fuck if I’m not going to help you do it. So sit, baby, sit and indulge.”
And with that, he heaped a plate with three slices of pizza, three steaming, aromatic slices of pie topped with melty cheese and all sorts of yummy toppings. My mouth watered looking at the stack of goodies, I couldn’t wait to dig in, my taste buds were already standing up in anticipation, my stomach growling even louder. But Tucker wasn’t done yet. Taking a slice in his hands, he folded it in half before holding it out to me.
“Open little girl,” he commanded.
And I obeyed immediately. Like a baby bird, I parted my lips and Tucker fed me a bite of pizza, watching as I chewed then slowly swallowed.
“Tastes good, huh?” he noted with satisfaction. “We just need to get through this plate before we move onto other things.”
I gasped.
“The entire plate? All three pieces? Tucker I can’t, each slice is like a quarter of the pie, that’s way too much,” I protested. “We have to split it, or just save it for tomorrow, cold pizza is still good.”
But Tucker growled, his brows lowering.
“No fucking way,” he declared. “This is all for you and you’re going to eat every bite, every scrap if I have to feed you myself. Here,” he said, pushing my beer at me again, “take a sip, the liquid will help it go down easier.”
Choking a little, I sipped at the beer, letting the alcohol trickle down my throat. Because what choice did I have? The big man was going to get his way no matter what, another bite already ready in his hand.
“Open,” he ground out again. And once more, like a doll, I parted my lips to take another huge bite of pizza, this time the cheese practically spurting into my mouth, the tomato sauce tangy and warm on my tongue.