#I don��t know that anyone else would give a shit but we’re thrilled

[geminimoonbeamx]

Sweet Tooth: Chapter Seven

A/N: I just want to write this story for the rest of my life. I love Lance Tucker man. I really truly do.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing. Fluff. A mild moment of triggering body insecurity. Lance Tuckery(hah).

Summary: Lance Tucker has come back to his hometown with his ego bruised and his look on life more tainted then ever. When he runs into Y/N; a vibrant plus size woman he went to high school with at her bakery ‘Cake Faced’, he leaves the shop with the taste of sugar on his lips and a hunger that has nothing to do with the cupcakes.

💘💘💘💘💘

Your pretty sure your dating Lance Tucker.

There’s a thought you never imagined would cross your mind. It feels alien just thinking it, but it was your reality. The last few weeks had been some kind of hazy day dream, full of intense touches and hot kisses and conversations that lasted for hours. You really couldn’t believe that it was even happening.

That’s what your telling Courtney as you two idly make your way through Target, your carts quickly filling up with various bullshit. When you’d only come to grab a pack of cupcake liners.

“So you guys are screwing?” Courtney inquires. She cant deny, she’s not thrilled about this whole thing. She still thinks Lance is a total ass hat, douche bag and that he wasn’t worthy of your time or your trust…but she did trust you. She knew you were more then capable of making your own decisions. All she could do was support you and hope that this thing between the two of you didn’t end in flames like she feared it would.

“No, that’s the crazy part. I haven’t had sex with him yet” You laugh at her wayward, unbelieving look that she shoots you.

“Bullshit” She drawls out the word.

“I’m dead serious. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s gotten heavy-”

“Like how heavy? Bj’s heavy?”

“No, more like a lot of dry humping. Like, a lot-”

“What are you? Fifteen?” Court deadpans, her nose scrunched as she looks as pasta sauces.

“You’d be surprised how intense that can get and Lance is very…sensitive. It’s too easy to make that man cum in his pants” She lets out a shrill fit of giggles and you try to contain your own “And I let him finger me the other day but that’s about it”

Courtney’s a little confused. It seems like you might really like the guy, and yet you hadn’t slept with him yet. She’d never known you to be a prude, there had to be a reason. “So why aren’t you doing the do with him then?”

“I just- I don’t know. I feel like once I really cave and give him what he wants it wont be the same anymore, you know? Like right now he likes me because I tell him no, and I like him because he keeps coming after me after I tell him no. It’s kind of a game of cat and mouse and I don’t want the game to end” You admit your fears in the simplest way you can word them.

“Have you talked to him about it? Your both adults, I think that it should probably be a topic of conversation” Courtney advises, her voice comforting yet firm.

“And what am I going to say? ‘Hey, Lance, I know you like to ditch girls after you sleep with them and I’m not trying to be one of them’?”

“Yeah, exactly. Let him know the boundaries of the relationship” Courtney can see the confliction in your eyes.

“Ugh. You know they say dating is supposed to get easier as you get older but it’s still just as hard” you whine. Thirty, flirty and thriving your ass.

“Well you waited long enough. You haven’t dated anyone since Eric” It hurts less, to hear his name you realize. If anyone had mentioned your ex boyfriend a couple of years ago you definitely would have winced. Now it kind of just went over your head. You felt pretty silly about it.

“Well we all cant be serial daters like you, Court” She’d literally been in relationships since middle school. Long ones, that lasted years. She’d been with her current boyfriend for seven or so years now. It was quite obvious Courtney didn’t like to be alone, she just wasn’t programmed that way.

“I take great offence to that” She quips at you “But onto bigger and better conversations. How excited are you for the interview tomorrow? What are you wearing?”

You adore the thrilled squeal in her voice. But honestly, you were more nervous then anything. This interview was big for you and Cake Faced, could be a tipping point for your small business. And although you’d always been good at talking to people, you couldn’t help but be shitted just thinking about it.

The rest of your Target trip with your best is spend planning your outfit for the next day to the T.

—————————-

Your up before the sun the next day, even though you’d popped a few sleeping pills the night before. You cant help it, your internal clock is wound tight in anticipation. So you take your time getting ready, spending hours perfecting you hair and makeup and then making a large, over decadent breakfast that you no way could eat yourself. You tend to cook when your nervous. Or sad. Or angry. It was just what you did, tried to pour the anxiety out of you. You end up packing the eggs benedict into containers, you’d bring them to work and feed the staff.

You check yourself over in the mirror, applying one last coat of neon-red orange lipstick and checking out your reflection. You’d chosen a sleeveless top. Because the weather was warm. Fuck if your arms looked large and jiggly in them, you tell yourself. You look damn good, and your determined to make a damn good impression. Confidence. Originality. Hard work. Those we’re your words that you had lived by and if you were going to be printed in the pages of a magazine, you were going to make sure they shined through. You with one last tousle of your hair, your out of the door. Walking tall in your heels.

After priming and primping the shop to look just how you want it to, you wait for the journalist. She’d said she’d be arriving at about 11 or so, so you did have some time to kill.

You prep the cupcakes your featuring, show casing. The Cookie Monster, The Lemon drop and the Red Velvet Classic. You want the batch’s to be perfect, and you don’t trust anyone but yourself to make them, so donning an apron you get to work. Your deep in concentration, squinting through one eye with and biting your lip when you hear a knocking on the doorway.

You look up and you cant help but smile.

“Hey there” Lance’s leans against the door frame, his arms folded over his broad chest as he watches you. He had been for a few minutes, before he’d decided to make his presence known. You just looked so cute, focusing all hard like that.

“Hi” You grin, “What are you doing here?”

He pushes himself from the door frame, coming towards you in long legged strides so that he can press a kiss to your lips “I had to come wish you luck, didn’t I?” he mumbles against your mouth and you sigh, leaning up on your heels, wanting more.

“Why thank you sir”

He pulls away first, his thumb coming to swipe at the corner of your lips, assuring that your pretty lipstick stayed in place. He’d had his fair share of interviews, he knew how important it was to keep your appearances. “You look nice”

Your chest swells at the way he says it, his sapphire eyes appraising you as they swept over your body “You think?”

“Mmhmm I do” He says cheekily, as his palm planes up your side, skimming your waist, coming up to cup the side of your breast. You exhale shakily and lean against him, your arms twining around his neck as you soaked up the gentle attention he was giving you. You loved this side of him, the gentle needy touches. The affection. It turned you to jelly because truly, you’d never thought he was capable of it.

Lance loves the soft feeling of your body under his hands, he wants to dip under your top, feel the bare skin but he refrains(just barley), not wanting to wrinkle your outfit. It was funny, he thinks. That you were the one doing interviews, your face going to be posted in magazines and he was the one all but hiding from the media. When the story of the gym had dropped on CNN; it had been a shit storm, just like he knew it would be. It would have been hell for him, if it wasn’t for you. You stuck close to his side through it all…he kept thinking you might bolt. Might retreat, go back to hating him. Like everyone else seemed to.

The least he could do was not get you all flustered before you had to go out and be professional.

He had really been a big help with all of this, he’d told you how it was going to go. To be the charming little shit that you were. He used that coach tone that made your panties wet too, which was an added plus.

“I should go” Lance says, checking his watch. He knew the magazine would be there to set up soon and he didn’t want to be at the shop when they arrived “Good luck, baby cakes. You’re going to do fine, just feed them a few of those cupcakes and flash those pearly whites and you’ll be set” He assures but you don’t want him to let go of your waist.

“What are you doing later tonight?” You ask him, holding his bicep.

“Mmm, I was hoping you” Lance’s tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip in a way that makes your heart pound with what your about to say next.

“Charming” You tease, poking at his arm muscle “What about if you come over to my place? I could make you dinner? There might be a little wine involved?” A little more then wine, you don’t say it. But your eyes do.

“I’ll fucking be there” Lance says quickly and you chuckle “You need me to bring anything?”

“No. I’ll stop at the grocery store before I go home. Just bring your appetite and that cute ass of yours” You waggle your eyebrows and he grins.

“That I can do” He beams, giving you a wink, before he’s out of the door.

Your heart flutters uneasily and you shake your shoulders in excitement before going back to your cupcakes.

—————————————–

The interview goes well, fuck it goes more then well if you do say so yourself. The interviewer is a bright, bubbly intuitive woman and the two of you talk about a range of subjects: from how social media had helped to kick start your business, to what it was like to be under thirty and be your own boss. You crack jokes, you show case your sweets, you plaster on the charm. You take some awesome pictures; the photographer had set up amazing lighting in the shop. You wondered if you could set up that kind of lighting in your bathroom, it would really up your selfie game. When they leave the shop you feel accomplished and bold and electric.

A lot like you felt the day you’d put the down payment on your store, signed the lease and gotten the keys.

It was such a rush! It might be bad thing, the way power amped you up…

After doing a happy jig with Shane who was taking the managers shift for the day, you decide you might as well head to the market and get your shopping done. You wrack your brain for recipes as you head there on foot, deciding not to waste how the gorgeous afternoon weather. It was only a few blocks…or ten. Yeah, you kind of regret it when your pumps start to pinch your toes but whatever. Your still riding that adrenalin rush.

All the way through the isles of Walt’s grocery store, collecting ingredients and grinning like a mad woman.

“What’s got you so happy, little miss?” La'tecia queries as she checks you out. Your glowing, looking radian. She doesn’t think she’d seen you look like this in years. Most days you we’re so tired, your everyday life draining you of that bright light that now gleamed in your eyes. You looked a lot like you did when you’d come with your mama every weekend to buy candies by the pound.

You tell her about the magazine and the interview and when she tells you how proud your mother and grandmother would have been of you, you attempt to compartmentalize it, to suck down the emotion that burns your nose.

“Don’t go making me cry, I worked really hard on this makeup, okay!” You laugh it off.

“You planning on celebrating tonight?”

“Something like that” Your lips quirk as she rings up not one, but two bottles of white wine.

“With someone special?” The knowing look she gives you isn’t discreet. She’d heard the rumors, even though she tried her very best to steer clear of poisonous gossip. Lance Tucker had been the talk of the town since he’d come home, but since his face had been plastered all over the nightly news, he’d been the talk of the nation. The scandal of it all was insane, and to top it off, everyone was buzzing about how you two had been spending a lot of time together… The Olympic athlete and the fat girl. Who'da thunk?

“Eh” You tease, shrugging your shoulders but then you giggle “Yeah, he’s special I guess”

When your done paying, taking the bags in your hand she spits some real life truth at you.

“Not as special as you, Y/N. Don’t forget that”

Those words would stick with you for the rest of your life.

—————————————–

Your phone is sandwiched between your cheek and your shoulder as you stand at your stove, working between pans of simmering food. Music blares through the speakers and your hips sway to the music as you cook.

“You coming soon? I’ve almost got dinner ready?”

“Yeah, I have to do something first, but I should be there in a half an hour-ish?” Lance replies over the phone and you huff excitedly.

“Mmm, good. I might be a little bit excited to see you” You stir at the vegetables. You were definitely excited. The matching lace bra and panty set you’d changed into was a big indicator of the fact. You felt devilish knowing they sat, waiting for him, under your clothes.

“Yeah? You going to be nice to me tonight?” his words are dripping with anticipation.

“If you earn it” you quip. Knowing that you weren’t really going to make him wait. If anything- you’d be jumping his bones as soon as he walked through that door. You’d been torturing yourself as much as you’d been torturing him with this whole “hard to get” act and you were done with it. You wanted it. Wanted to be his. Wanted to let him have whatever he wanted.

You squeezed your thighs together just at the thought of it.

“Fuck- your going to kill me. Okay, baby, I’ve got to go, I’m driving. I’ll be there soon”

“I’ll be waiting”

“Naked?”

You shake your head, looking at your celling. Lord, help me.

This. Fucking. Man.

“No- but I made some really good food for you so there’ll be that”

“Thank fuck, I haven’t eaten all day…you going to let me eat that pretty pussy of yours too?”

You squeak at his forwardness. Even though it was nothing new. He was one crass motherfucker and had been whispering the dirtiest shit into your ear for weeks.

“We’ll see. Drive safe, Lance” when you hang up, you reach for your glass of wine and take a swig, hoping that it might help quell the bubbles of nervousness in your stomach. Shocker, it doesn’t. If anything it makes them worse.

So does the next glass.

As you wait for Lance, the minutes ticking by. You’d finished dinner, and had it low simmering so that it would still be warm when he got there…

If he ever got there.

Because thirty minutes roll by.

And then forty five.

And then an hour…

You send him texts. Asking him where he is? Is he close? Did he get lost?

You cant help it, the dread that sets in. The way your mind clouds with doubt and fear. He’d blown you off. He’d bullshitted you. Had this been a mistake?

The reasonable side fights your insecurities.

Bitch, he’s done nothing but try since he got back it hisses at you. You need to stop being a crazy, insecure child.

You drown both of them with wine. Your sitting at your kitchen table, feeling a little more then a little crestfallen as you talk to your dog.

“You know what, if he doesn’t show, I cant even be mad. I mean I will be fucking pissed, don’t get me wrong. But mostly at myself. Because do people ever really change?” You speak to the lapdog as though he’s a human being. He was the smartest person you’d ever met you decide. He looks at you with unamused beady eyes.

“And I’ve always been so stu-”

The sound of the doorbell stops you in your tracks. You hop up from the chair and have to force yourself not to run to the door. Be cool. Be calm.

Told you so, your reasonable side shoots at you as you open the door.

Lance is standing there, in your door way. His lip is bloody and his right eye looks like its just starting to swell up.

“Lance?” You gasp.

“Hi baby” He holds up the expensive looking bottle of scotch he’d brought to 'the party’ “Sorry I’m late”

——————————————–

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Okay…don’t hate me. I had planned on making this chapter the one. The glorious smut filled one. But then I was like lemme’ hit them with some angst and I ended up with this. THE SMUT IS COMING. LET ME REPEATE. THE SMUT IS COMING NEXT CHAPTER. I’ll see you hookers then! Leave me some love, I love on you guys comments.