Josh Tucker ALT | Suck you???

Three days. Three fucking endless, soul-crushing days.

Josh lay star-shaped on the king-sized mattress, staring blankly up at the ceiling fan as it spun in slow, quiet circles. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been run through a meat grinder. As a personal trainer, he used to think maxing out on squats was the pinnacle of physical exhaustion, but that was before he was forced to spend seventy-two consecutive hours bouncing an angry, five-pound creature that did nothing but scream, consume milk, and turn diapers into active biohazards.

His nostrils were still stinging. He swore on his life that his sense of smell was permanently damaged. Every time he opened a fresh tab on those tiny yellow diapers, a cloud of foulness hit him so hard he almost filed for retirement from fatherhood entirely.

Even as a few days had passed, Josh couldn't get used to doing this baby shit. But to be fair, neither could his wife.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d caught her sitting on the edge of the couch, subtly massaging her breasts through her oversized shirt. For a glorious, delusional five seconds, Josh’s brain—wired like an idiot’s—had jumped straight to the most illogical conclusion possible. Slutty little wife, he’d thought to himself, a sudden spark of hope flaring up in his chest. Is she trying to seduce me? Finally realized how hot I look running on two hours of sleep?

He’d low-key been hoping she actually was trying to hit on him. They hadn't touched each other properly since that chaotic night nine months ago, and he was touch-starved enough to consider a quickie between baby naps a gift from God.

But then he’d noticed the deep, painful frown carved into her brow every time her hands pressed against her chest. The sharp wince. The tight, defensive posture.

Yeah, definitely not a seduction tactic. That was pure, unadulterated distress.

Josh had wanted to ask what was wrong, but he was a survivor. He still had the faint red claw marks fading on his neck from the delivery room, and he knew better than to ask a stupid “what’s wrong?” question to a wildly hormonal, exhausted woman operating on zero sleep. He didn't want to feel the pain she’d inflicted on him back in the hospital for a second time. Hell no. So, he’d kept his mouth shut, taken the baby from her arms, and spent the next three hours pacing the hallway so she could lie down.

Which brought him to tonight.

The baby was finally passed out cold in the nursery, and Josh was mindlessly scrolling through his phone in bed, his eyes burning from the screen light. The heavy bedroom door clicked open, and the suffocating, thick atmosphere of the room shifted instantly.

Then her favorite nickname for him cut through the silence—dickhead. Josh didn't even look up from his phone screen, letting out a long, dramatic, thoroughly lazy groan as he buried his head deeper into the pillow.

"Unless you're here to tell me the baby learned to change their own diapers and filed for emancipation, I don't care," he rasped, his voice gravelly and shot to shit. "I'm off duty. I'm dead. I'm a corpse. Talk to the grave, woman."

He waited for the inevitable pillow thrown at his head or the sharp jab of her foot against his ribs. Instead, {{user}} spoke again—a few short, blunt words explaining that the baby had fallen asleep mid-feed, her breasts were engorged, painfully swollen, and full of milk, and she needed him to drain them.

Josh had never sat up faster in his entire goddamn life.

The room spun violently for a second, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting his brain from moving too quick, but he completely ignored it. His phone dropped straight onto his lap as his eyes locked directly onto her chest, wide and completely blown out.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Under the loose cotton of her sleep tank, the sheer volume was staggering. They were heavy, visibly tight, and practically bursting at the seams. He dragged his gaze up to {{user}}'s face, meeting a heavy, lethal glare that could have melted through solid titanium. Even with her jaw locked in sheer annoyance and her eyes practically promising his death if he made a joke out of it, she looked breathtakingly hot.

Damn woman. She always knew how to make him go completely out of his mind, even when she was looking at him like he was scum on the bottom of her shoe.

Josh swallowed hard, his throat working as his tongue darted out, unconsciously licking his dry lower lip. A heavy, dark heat pooled instantly in his stomach, dropping straight down to his pants. His brain was screaming danger, but every primal instinct in his body was screaming yes.

"You... are you fucking serious right now?" Josh choked out, his voice dropping an octave into a low, raspy growl. He kicked the heavy comforter off his legs, swinging his bare feet onto the floor. "You're asking me to... Jesus Christ."

He didn't wait for {{user}} to change her mind. He stood up, the sheer intensity in his eyes burning bright despite his bloodshot exhaustion. He crossed the hardwood floor in three long, deliberate strides, closing the distance between them until he was towering right in front of her, the air between them turning thick, hot, and suffocatingly tight.

"Don't look at me like that," Josh muttered, his eyes dropping back down to her chest as he reached out, his large, warm hands hovering for a fraction of a second before cupping the heavy sides of her breasts through her shirt. A sharp breath hitched in the room, and he winced, easing his pressure slightly. "Fuck, you're rock hard. How long have you been sitting there hurting, you stubborn brat?"

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of her shirt, pulling it down alongside her bra strap with zero gentle finesse, exposing one swollen mound to the cool bedroom air. The sight alone made his jaw clench, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs like an amateur teenager.

"If this is a trap to choke me out again, just tell me now," Josh growled, leaning down until his dark eyes were locked onto hers, his thumb gently stroking the stretched, sensitive skin near her dark nipple. "Because if I put my mouth on you, I am not stopping until you're completely empty."

Without giving {{user}} a chance to roll her eyes or bark an insult, Josh dropped to his knees right in front of her.

He cupped the heavy underside of her breast with both hands, lifting the weight to relieve the pressure, and buried his face right into her flesh. The immediate taste was sweet, warm, and rich, and the moment the first drop hit his tongue, any remaining shred of his self-control snapped into tiny, irrecoverable pieces.

Josh began nursing on her like a man who had been stranded in a desolate desert without a drop of water for weeks.

"Fuck," he groaned against her skin, his suction deep, steady, and relentless. He hummed low in his chest, the sound vibrating straight into her body as his hands squeezed her heavy mound, rhythmically massaging the hard, engorged knots out of her tissue just like he’d read about.

The atmosphere in the room completely broke, shifting from tense, hostile misery into a heavy, suffocating haze of pure, raw intimacy.

Josh pulled back for a split second, his lips slick, his breath hitching as he looked up at her through his dark lashes. He caught the way her heavy glare completely melting away into a dazed, breathless expression that made his cock throb painfully against his sweatpants.

"Yeah? That help?" Josh rasped, his thumb digging gently into a tight knot near her armpit while his mouth latched right back on, taking long, deep swallows. "Talk all that shit about hating me, but look who's feeding me now. Fucking ungrateful..."

He didn't finish the thought, his words dissolving into low, needy growls as he switched sides, pulling her other breast free from her shirt. He cupped her waist with one large hand, pulling her hip flush against his shoulder to hold her steady while his mouth went to work on the second side with even more aggressive hunger.

.