Silver Foxy

Tucker and Gigi

 

 

 

FOUR BLISSFUL YEARS AND my Gigi was as radiant as ever.

I had a wife.

A daughter.

Five grandchildren between Josh and Leelee and Rayce and Boomer.

How much more could a man ask for?

Life had treated me good, and my only aim now was to treat Gigi better than good.

I took care of the yardwork, hell, I even vacuumed. I serviced her Merc, and I serviced her. Wasn’t a hardship. Gigi did so much for so many people. Why, she’d practically adopted the entire MC, mothered the whole gang at Stone’s garage.

I’d just finished making lunch—barbeque—when Gigi breezed in from her book club/smut club. I didn’t mind that all, either, because she always came up with interesting ideas in the sack, and I was a quick learner.

“Hey, babe.” I swooped down for a kiss she returned with gusto.

“Is it our day to have Monroe and Ruby?” she asked, pressing me back with two hands on my chest.

It was on the tip of my tongue to remind her she was the one who took care of the calendar, but then I figured I could use her lapse to my wicked advantage.

“Nope.” Ranging behind her as she washed her hands at the sink, I kissed the side of her neck.

She always wore the same perfume, and I was addicted to it. The scent did something to me.

“What about JJ?” Gigi’s fingers curled over the edge of the counter, and she gasped when I took her earlobe between my lips.

We usually had JJ on his own one evening a week, without his sisters now that he was at the age when he just wanted a little girl-free time.

And we took care of Josie, and Ava—the baby of the family—every other afternoon.

There was always a huge spread for Sunday dinner, all the folks and families included. After the weekly church service I sat through for Gigi’s sake. Hell, I’d walk across hot coals for the woman, so listening to the preacher drone on about the Good Book was cake.

“No Josie and Ava today, either.” I kissed the other side of Gigi’s neck, holding her hips in my hands. “Know what that means?”

It was no surprise I was angling to get Gigi into bed. The woman had me. She’d climbed all the way into my heart and planted a damn flag there.

She was gorgeous, the tiny stature and the pretty breasts and the way her hips flared out. Mostly her smile, though. That smile. I could look at her all day long and never get bored.

“I . . . I most certainly do not know what that means.” Her voice was firm, but she stammered.

I was the only one who could make her do that.

Spinning her, I clamped an arm around her waist. “Wanna go for a ride?”

“No. I do not.” Yet her cheeks blushed, and her sparkling eyes said yes she does.

I tugged her hand, leading her to our bedroom.

“But lunch is ready,” she protested feebly.

“It can wait.” I towed her along.

“But it’s broad daylight, Tucker Freeman.”

“And you’re my broad, Gigi Freeman.”

“So dirty.” Her eyes gleamed brightly.

“And the middle of the afternoon. All the better to see you with.” My mustache quirked with a smirk.

“I read Little Red Riding Hood to Ruby and Monroe, so don’t even go there.”

“Got it.” Pulling her into the bedroom, I closed the door in the faces of four Doberman bitches. “No fairytales allowed.” Just the one I was living with her.

In a matter of minutes, a pool of clothes ringed the bed, and Gigi and I were on top of it. She hadn’t needed much convincing, and I was already almost there as she took me in her mouth. For all her praying and churchgoing, she had a damn wily tongue. Too wily.

My rough fingers curling into her silky hair, I drew her astride me. “You almost made me come, darlin’.”

She liked the raw talk, but she walked a fine line between total hussy and upright matriarch, just another thing I adored about her.

Her dilated eyes and stiffened nipples and her moan were all the signals I needed to reach low, find her wet, and part her for my entry.

Ride me she did, as soon as I pushed up inside her, pulled her down over me.

I loved how her breasts had that pear-shape every woman should have. And her hips. No one would think she’d have such curvy hips beneath the flowy clothes she wore. Her belly. Loved that just as much—a little pooch that perfectly fit me.

She braced her hands on my furry chest, running her fingers through the hair like it was mink.

Guess she liked me just as much.

Especially when I popped a dangling nipple into my mouth and made damn sure she felt as extremely turned on as I was.

Gigi arched back—hell yeah, hot yoga—and I drove up, nearly thrusting her off me. Her silver hair turned damp at the temples, and her nipples were big swollen buttons when she leaned back over me.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed, feminine voice almost guttural when she bottomed me out.

The heat and the wet and the curves and all her body captivated me. I tonelessly groaned, seated inside, and Gigi drove me into the abyss that thoroughly blasted through me and into her.

Afterward, I rolled us to our sides, stroking my fingers through her shiny hair, kissing the soft pleased smile on her lips.

“I think I lost my readers somewhere between the kitchen and here,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.

“They’re on the kitchen table.” I pointed a finger in the general direction of the other room.

“Are you sure?” She blinked hazily at me.

“Unless Cleo ate them.” A laugh catapulted from my stomach, vibrating through her.

“I have spares.” She ran her fingers through the graying hairs on my chest, giggling when my mustache tickled her lips again.

“Don’t I know it? In every room of the house.”

“You are a wicked man, Tucker Freeman.”

“You really shouldn’t say that when I made you lunch then made good love to you.”

“So bad.” She nuzzled closer, and I swept my hand up and down her back.

Then someone knocked on the front door just before opening it.

“Who’s that now?” Gigi jerked up, as alert as one of the Dobies.

I glanced at my watch. “Probably Josh.”

“But you said—”

“I tricked you so I could get you into bed.”

“Tucker! You lied!”

“Worked, didn’t it? ’Cause you were screaming my name just seconds ago.”

I got out of bed, a little more laboriously than when I’d hopped into it. Gigi fumed, but I tuned her out because even when she was semi-mad she was still a fine sight to behold. Besides, Josh was out there bellowing at the dogs, which only made them bark louder. Pulling my jeans and shirt back on, I smoothed down my mustache then stepped out barefoot.

Quickly getting Cleo, Baby, Queen, and Lady under control with a shrill whistle and a deep-voiced command, I shooed the Dobies away, even though Josie loved the dogs and the Stones’ latest edition, Ava, always clapped her hands excitedly when she saw them.

Gigi materialized beside me, tying a silky robe around her waist.

Josh took one look at her—in a dressing gown in the middle of the day—and his brows shot sky-high.

I wondered if he could see my grin behind the twitching mustache.

“Holy shi—oot!” Josh boomed. “You had an afternoon delight? With my mom?”

“Dadda?” Josie asked, red curls framing her face. “What an afternoon dewight?”

He clapped one hand over Josie’s ear and one over Ava’s.

“Yep.” I nodded. Shoving Josh’s face in my afternoon delight with his mom was almost the highlight of my day.

Almost, but the real highlight was being a granddaddy to his kids. Ava and Josie were as rambunctious as he must’ve been when he was younger. Josh was a damn good dad and husband and son.

Lucky. That was what Gigi and I were.

Completely unexpectedly lucky.

And loving it.

Especially when later we set the table together, Josie helping while baby sis smacked her impatient little hands on the tray of the highchair that’d been used for JJ, Josie, Monroe, Ruby, and now Ava.

My heart leaped in my chest. I stopped for a moment. It wasn’t a heart attack or a stroke or anything like that.

Just a heart too full of love.

 

How much more can any man deserve? Turned out to be a whole hell of a lot more than I expected.