Girl Next Door: Puck Buddies Series

by Brown, Tara

  It’s how I expected it would be when she yelled at me by the lake. She runs her hands roughly through my hair and trails them down my body, almost raking. I suck my inhale as she rips open my shirt and shoves it down my arms.

  The violence ignites me.

  I scoop my arm around her waist and pull her into me, crushing her breasts into my chest. She lifts her gaze, offering a fiery stare.

  We’re kissing and now it’s her back slamming against the wall as I struggle out of my pants, hopping and flinging shoes. I have one sock, my underwear, and the cuff of one of my sleeves still around my wrist as the shirt drags behind me.

  We bump into the coffee table and she shoves me again, forcing me back onto the sofa. I’ve barely landed when she climbs into my lap, straddling me and cupping my cheeks as she devours me.

  My body is desperate to slow the whole thing down, savor it, but she’s flinging her bra off and her perfect breasts are in my face.

  I cup them, noting the subtle pink to her nipples as I take one in my mouth, making her moan as I roll the other gently with my finger and thumb. Her skin is softer than I expected. But she isn’t soft. She’s ferocious, grinding against me, whispering, “Fuck me, Lawrence,” in my ear.

  My whole body shudders from the intensity. But I refuse to Forrest Gump this. I stand, carrying her to the bed, and lay her down, gaining back the control.

  She writhes but I gently thumb her underwear, feeling the soft lips beneath the delicate fabric.

  “You want me to fuck you?” I ask, lightly brushing her clit. She’s squirming, but I’m not anywhere near done. I drop to my knees in front of her, spreading her legs roughly and placing a soft kiss on her inner thigh, breathing in the cherries and sex.

  It’s her sucking her inhales now. She clings to the sheets as I tug the underwear to the side and lean in, brushing only my breath against wet lips.

  She tries to move but I pin her there, hovering, teasing.

  Finally, I bury my face in her, licking and sucking until she’s grinding against my face. Her hands find their way to my head, and she slides her fingers into my hair, gripping and moving me in a way she wants. Her breathing gets louder, her pussy gets wetter, and her grip on my face and hair gets tighter. She comes with violent jerks and gyrations.

  The heady scent of orgasm, cherry, and excitement mixes, overwhelming my senses, but I don’t stop until she forces me to. She is struggling with her breath, her body still twitching when I reach into the nightstand and grab a condom, sliding it on as fast as I can. My dick throbs with the need to bury myself inside her.

  I grab her thighs and drag her down to the edge of the bed again, spreading her thighs roughly. She gasps as I’m tugging her underwear to the side and rubbing my cockhead against the wetness of her pussy.

  I pause, taking her in. In the bit of light coming in the window from the small moon across the water, her skin glows. Her body is long and lean but the curves and softness have filled out nicely.

  She opens her eyes, meeting my gaze and I thrust in a bit. Her glistening lips part and her head falls back again. She’s not entirely ready for me so I give her half, pumping a few times before inching more in.

  “Fuck.” She adjusts as I push in more. She backs off, pulling away and removing me from her. She sits up and pushes me back, her mouth dropping open again. “What the fuck is that?”

  “What?” I look down at my desperate cock. “A condom?”

  “No, you’re on the bottom with that.” She gets up and pushes me onto the bed on my back. I climb up onto the pillows as she kicks off her shoes and pulls her underwear off. She climbs up onto the bed with me, letting me pull her into my arms. But she doesn’t let me get on top of her again. She climbs into my lap and slowly eases herself onto my cock. She takes the head, doing mini pumps before she takes a little more.

  I’m vibrating with the need to fuck her but she needs a minute. She lifts and lowers, adjusting until I’m buried to my balls in her. She’s sitting on my lap, tense and ready to move, but she doesn’t. Her eyes meet mine and I have to stare.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” I whisper. She flinches and I see it was the wrong thing to say so I recover with something less personal, “Can I fuck you now?”

  The playful grin comes back and she bites her lip.

  Scooping her into my lap, I get up and lay her on her back. The smell of cherries and her is everywhere when I bury my face in her neck and slowly start to thrust again. Her breaths are gasps but she’s taking me, all of me. I let it go for a few minutes of playful fucking before I pound her once. She moans and rotates her hips like she did when it was my face there.

  I lean back, dragging her to me and putting her calves on my shoulders as I lift her butt and grasp her hips. She’s lying there, spread out and beautiful as I pump into her, making her breasts bounce with the rhythm of our fucking.

  My grip tightens as my thrusts become faster. I’m fucking her hard now and she’s crying out, chanting, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” She contorts a bit, clinging to my body as her orgasm hits and she forces me to fuck her at a particular angle. As she comes, her body clutches mine, squeezing my cock.

  The ecstasy builds with that movement and I let it unleash. I couldn’t hold it back if I wanted to. I come so hard my entire body tenses and cramps as I pound into her until there’s nothing left but small twitches.

  She wraps her legs around me, pinning me to her so we are frozen with my hard, yet slightly dying cock inside her.

  We’re both gasping for breath, but she doesn’t want me to move as her body clings to mine.

  When she’s done shuddering, she releases me. I roll to the side and try to gather my thoughts but my mind reels with the insane outcome.

  She turns and sighs. “I needed that. Thanks.” She closes her eyes, not showering or peeing or anything. She passes out. It’s weird and sudden and I feel used.

  I don’t know what to do.

  She’s sleeping.

  I guess she’s staying. I pull the covers up over her before I clean myself up and come back to bed to stare at her.

  I fall asleep with the image of her face burned into my mind and the smell of cherries in my nose.

  It’s the last way I imagined the night would end, but it’s the best possible outcome.

  17

  Round two

  Sunday, June 18

  Jenny

  My thirst and cotton mouth are the first things I notice.

  The obvious insane amount of sex my body has had is the next.

  Memories flash in my mind. I wish we were drunk enough that I might be able to forget at least some of the humiliating details.

  But no, the night is crystal clear, including me asking Lawrence Eckelston for a fuck. I said “fuck.” Drunk drummer Jenny asked for a fuck.

  God kill me now.

  This is why I wasn’t allowed to stay in the band or why I don’t talk about it. Banging Josh’s best friend all summer because the drums got me hot was apparently not cool.

  And here I am again. Asking for a fuck.

  My cheeks burn with humiliation, but I’m still too stunned to completely understand how I thought it was okay to say that to him.

  The warmth from his side of the bed and the sound of him breathing sends stabbing pains into my stomach. With trembling fingers and the worst sensation of anxiety I’ve had in a long time, I lift the covers to what I expect to find. Nothing. I’m naked.

  Without moving too much, I scan the dimly lit room, seeing our clothes in a disarray of scattered fabric. Each piece invokes a clear memory of the moment it left his body or mine. The remains of his shirt is extra embarrassing. I ripped it from him like an animal, spewing buttons across the room. My breath is shaky as I tense and slide from the bed, leaving the sheets and blankets behind and risking being naked in front of him. I’m not bashful about nudity, but I’m unsure what my body looks like after the insanity of what happened. Searching for my dress, it takes me a second to reca
ll stripping as I drove the golf cart.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper and hurry to the bathroom to steal one of his thick towels, avoiding my reflection. As I pass the door to my room, the door that I should’ve been smart enough to unlock last night, I cringe. But that isn’t the case. Tiptoeing to my shoes and bra, I abandon my underwear and creep to his door.

  His breath remains even when I turn the handle and pull so slowly it adds suspense. It’s hardly open enough for me to slip through but I do, closing the door the second I’m out. Pressing my back against it, I take a deep breath before scurrying like a college kid from his porch to my own.

  Fortunately, it’s early and no one else is up.

  When I reach the door, I realize the key card is in my dress. A memory of flashing the pockets at Bev when she complimented my outfit sparks in my mind.

  “Shit!”

  My heart is racing, my hands are clinging to the towel, and my eyes are aching from scanning the area as I rush to my badly parked golf cart. The dress isn’t here.

  I lift my gaze, flinching when I spot my poor battered dress lying on the gravel path fifty feet from where I’m crouching.

  My options are drive my cart in a towel to the dress or struggle with bare feet and the gravel. Desperate for this moment to be over, I choose the cart and hop in, starting it and backing up quickly.

  It’s not as easy to drive whilst holding the towel, but I manage. My dress has tire tracks from multiple carts being driven over it, and when I grab it a bug falls out and scurries away. Holding the garment out as far as I can without losing the towel, I fish the key from it and put my dress on the seat.

  Once inside my place, I drop the keys and dress on the floor and walk to the bathroom to take the longest shower possible.

  But the steamy water and soap don’t wash me clean because every time I close my eyes, I imagine him. And not merely the feel of his body pinning mine or the way he uses his magically long tongue, but also the light in his eyes and the smile he offers when he’s not trying.

  Being almost five foot nine, I’ve never been with a guy who picked me up like I weighed nothing, until Lawrence. It’s the first time my hundred-and-fifty-five-pound body was swept up and carried so easily.

  My hands lather the soap over my body, bringing memories of the way his touch dug in as he clung to me. Need. He had a need of me and I mimic it with the soap, reliving the experience until I’m in the mood for another round.

  Turning off the shower, I contemplate sneaking back into his room and ravaging him a second time.

  But the realization of where I am, who I am, and even better, who he is, hits hard.

  He’s a twenty-year-old hockey player.

  And a vow I made to myself when I was twelve years old is broken. Sixteen years I managed not to date, kiss, or hook up with a single hockey player. Even when I was the one horny teenaged girl on the team of cute boys.

  Annoyance and shame build as I get dressed and pack my bags, preparing to go back to the real world. A world where I have way too much shit to do to add fucking Lawrence Eckelston to. I have to unpack a brand new apartment I don’t want, face the feelings about Ben and I being over, and get back to being in charge of the entire NHL contract while Victor is in Europe.

  The idea of sleeping with one of our clients makes me sick, but the disgust and loathing motivate me to clean and finish so I can leave faster. Before I have to see Lawrence again.

  A knock at the door startles me mid silent lecture.

  I turn to the front door but there’s no one there.

  My stomach drops and I realize it’s the other door.

  “Oh God,” I whisper.

  “Come on, Red, I can hear you in there. I got you a coffee,” Lawrence says through the doorframe.

  I take several deep breaths before I force myself to walk to the door. As I lift my hand to the knob, I decide to tuck angry, professional Jenny back in and paste a smile on my face. “Hey,” I answer as I open. “Did I wake you with the noise of my packing?”

  “You did but that’s cool. Motivated me to get up and make some coffee.”

  Oh God, he looks good wearing only shorts. His spiky hair looks like he just got out of the shower, adding a glistening sheen to his muscled body which already appeared photoshopped. It’s too good to be true. Thick muscles over a tall, lean frame. He cracks that grin, the one I normally want to punch him in the face for, but instead of being annoyed by it, I smile wider.

  “Here.” He hands me a mug. “It’s just cream, right?”

  “What? Yes, how—”

  “I guessed.” He laughs. “Actually, I saw you order a coffee and thought the ‘just cream’ was weird. Canadians always have a double-double.” He raises his thick eyebrows and leans against the doorframe. “You gonna invite me in or what? I haven’t seen your side yet.”

  “You saw it through the window,” I joke but remind myself to cool the flirting. I don’t need a repeat.

  “Ah yeah.” He bites his lip but the smile doesn’t fade. It changes and I want to be the one biting his lip. God, I want a repeat. The feel of beating those drums and dancing and him fucking me is overwhelming, mixing with the aftershave he wears that makes me want to devour him.

  I want a repeat. In fact, I can think of nothing beyond having his hands all over—“Can we fuck again?”

  His eyes lift and I realize I’ve said it aloud.

  Oh God. Oh God, why?

  I can’t breathe.

  My whole body has pins and needles.

  “Yes,” he says flatly and takes my coffee before I’ve even had a sip, putting both our mugs on the table next to me. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms, wrapping around me and it happens again. Something—his smell and feel and thick muscles—makes me crazy. I’m climbing his body and he’s cupping my ass, slamming me into the wall so I’m sitting on the table in his side of the cabin.

  We’re kissing and feverishly ripping clothes. It’s my blouse this time shooting buttons everywhere and my skirt being ripped to shreds as he spreads my thighs open.

  “Oh fuck, you’re so wet already,” he whispers into my mouth as his thick fingers slide into me and he thumbs my clit and rubs my G-spot. I’ve gotten myself so hot and bothered in the shower that I come almost instantly. It’s so violent, my body tenses down to my toes and my left calf muscle cramps. My fingers dig into his skin, clinging to his arms as his body pins me against the wall.

  “Fuck me,” I manage to whisper hoarsely as I struggle to recover from the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

  He drags my underwear off viciously, spreading my legs to make way for his thick body. When I have my strength back, I grab his face and pull it down to me, kissing him passionately as he rubs his cock against me.

  I brace for it, recalling how much it shocked me last night.

  He takes it slow as if he’s accustomed to girls struggling with the size of him. When he’s in all the way, he pauses and lets me adjust before moving. It’s a weird place I’ve never been with another human being. A tense and straining moment, a true understanding of the calm before the storm.

  He lifts his hand to my chin and tilts my face so we’re looking at each other. One fiery gaze locking on the other. He thrusts and we both moan, staring. I see myself in his eyes. His pupils are dilated like a shark’s, and suddenly I see it—I’m his prey. All along, I thought I had the upper hand, but he was letting me think that.

  His lips twist into that grin, suggesting he’s also aware of my revelation, as he begins pumping into me, slamming me. The angle is weird with my legs hanging so I try to lean back but the table’s too small.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he says as he lifts me up.

  I do as he says and he spins and carries me to the bed, laying me down carefully. He hovers over me, his ragged breath meeting mine. We’re staring again when he thrusts back inside me. The angle is perfect and my back arches as I dig into the bed, grabbing at sheets as he fucks me until we both orgas
m loudly with our eyes locked on each other’s.

  “Goddamn,” he whispers as he rolls over to face me. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  “I already told you, Port McNeill. Typical Mainlander,” I reply, trying to catch my breath. “You guys always ignore everything us Islanders say.”

  He laughs which is nice. No one else in our world would get the joke.

  I’m nowhere near recovered when a knock at his door jerks both our heads in that direction. “Lori, you in there?”

  “It’s Brady,” Lori whispers. “He won’t go—”

  “It’s okay.” I lean in breathlessly and kiss him once. “It was nice meeting you, Lawrence. And I’m sure I’ll see ya around.” I climb out of the bed and hurry to my door, scooping up my clothes on the way.

  When I close the door, I lock it and tell myself, Enough.

  Just as Sukii says, “What happens at the wedding, stays at the wedding.” And I need this to stay here, where Stan and Victor never find out about it.

  18

  The setup

  Lori

  Fucking Brady.

  He had to come get me for brunch and interrupt.

  I can’t believe how upset I was waking with her gone.

  I made her coffee and thought the second round would satisfy me, but all it’s done is make me want her more.

  What is this sorcery?

  “And I just want to thank you guys for being here and being so awesome.” Sami lifts her mimosa and speaks to us all, “This has legit been the best week of my life, besides having Eli.” She eyes the sleeping baby in her mom’s arms. “Cheers, everyone!”

  We all toast and sip our orange juice and champagne.

  “So I guess this is it. We have to go back to the real world,” Nat says as she dumps maple syrup on her bacon, hash browns, and eggs, the Canadian way; something I introduced her to.

  “You better spill.” Brady leans in. “We all saw you guys leave together. You chased her fucking golf cart. What did she say to you at the bar?”