Perhaps there aren’t any hard and fast rules in life. Sometimes you can have your cake and eat it too. Sometimes following the rules doesn’t get you ahead.
And perhaps sometimes you can get off between floors…
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PUCKED UP EXCERPT
The first girl I ever groped I met at hockey camp the first year I was a junior counselor. My buckteeth—thanks to my thumb-sucking as a kid—were finally en route to being fixed. And by kid I mean ten years old, still trying to break the habit. I started after my mom died, according to my dad. I didn’t do sleepovers with friends because there was a damn good chance I would wake up with my thumb in my mouth. It was fucking embarrassing.
Anyway, this girl was dorky, but she was amazing at hockey, and she had great legs, so I liked her. We were walking from the lake to the mess hall, and she pulled me off the trail, behind some big evergreens. Then she laid one on me, just crushed her mouth against mine and rammed her tongue right in there.
I didn’t know what to do. Well, that’s not true. I’d watched enough movies and checked out the magazines my dad had hidden in his workshop to understand the mechanics, but she took me by surprise. When I recovered from the shock I full-on groped her and kissed her back.
It was close to dark, and the mosquitoes were terrible. I was covered in bites when we came back out five minutes later. It was worth it, since I managed to go right past first base and directly to second. Sadly, I found out later that night that Slutty Shellie—that was her nickname, not created by me—had kissed almost every single junior counselor in the camp. At least I got in the extra boob grope.
I imagine the number of guys she made out with might have been a bit of an exaggeration. Either way, it took some of the shine off the moment.
I think about that Michael kid, and how his future is up in the air. If treatment doesn’t work, he might never have the chance to get past first base. All those experiences, the good and the bad, will only ever be ideas in his head. Sometimes the world sucks.
My phone vibrates with an alert. There are new pictures. Some are posted by Patchy Bushman, but there are also a few from Lily and two new ones from Sunny. They were all added a few minutes ago. In one, Bushman has his arm around Sunny’s shoulder, his hand perilously close to her boob. It’s a selfie. They’re holding up bottles of beer. Bushman is staring right at her while she looks at the camera. In another, posted by Sunny, she’s in the middle of a Lily-and-Bushman sandwich. They’re, hugging her from either side. He’s not groping her, but it doesn’t seem particularly innocent, either.
At first glance she looks happy, but upon closer inspection her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are blotchy. I can’t tell if it’s the quality of the picture or not. Still, they’re smiling, and I’m not there to stop whatever might happen later in the night. And she hasn’t bothered to call me.
My phone rings. It’s not Sunny; it’s Violet.
I don’t have a chance to say a word before she yells, “Why are your disfigured balls all over the Internet?”
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PUCKED Over EXCERPT
It’s well past midnight before I stumble down the hall to the spare room. I could sleep with Sunny, but sometimes she tries to spoon. I also want to check my messages. Not that I expect to have one from Randy. He’s unpredictable with his communication.
I pull the covers back and slip under them. My stomach does a stupid little flip-flop over the three messages from him.
I’m home. Move to Chicago.
I have three bedrooms I can fuck u in.
The last message wasn’t sent that long ago, maybe twenty minutes. I’m drunk enough that calling him seems like a great idea.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey.” He sounds like maybe he was sleeping.
His gritty voice wakes all my corresponding parts up. “That’s quite the pitch.”
“Are you sold?”
“So alluring.” There’s a little slur to my words. Randy picks up on it.
“Are you drunk?”
“Nope.”
“You totally are.”
“Sunny and me might’ve had a little wine. I’m staying at her place for a few days.” I don’t know why I tell him this. It’s completely irrelevant.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Anyway, I’m coming to see Sunny’s new place over the holidays.”
“You mean you’re coming to see my bathrooms?”
“Those, too.”
“We’re gonna have a sleepover.”
“So far sleepovers with you haven’t included much sleep.”
“How long you gonna be here? A couple days? A week?”
“Sunny said something about the twenty-third to the twenty-eighth, but we might stay longer. I don’t know yet.”
“You’re not spending Christmas with your mom?”
“We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye on things right now. And she’s probably spending the holidays with Tim-Tom.”
“Who?”
“Her new boyfriend.”
“Is he the reason for the dissension?” Randy asks.
“Part of it.” Why can’t I lie like normal people?
“What’s the other part?”
“My not coming home last night.”
“You’re in trouble for not coming home? Are you lying about your age or something? Are you really seventeen and you just look older because you wear makeup that looks like you’re not wearing makeup?”
I snort. “It would explain my mostly prepubescent body.”
“Don’t talk shit about your body. I fucking love your body. Especially when you’re naked and I’m on top of you, and even more when I’m inside you. Shit. Now I’m hard. Again. You’d think after last night and this morning I’d be done with the hard-ons.”
“Your dick giving you problems?” This is easier than conversation about my family. All his attention isn’t because he wants to date me. We just have insane chemistry, and he wants to fuck a million orgasms out of me.
“My fantasies about you are what’s giving my dick problems. If you move here, they don’t have to be fantasies; I’ll get to live them out all the damn time. Then my dick wouldn’t be such a problem for me.”
“If I was there I’d put your dick on lockdown.” I have to pause and choke back a laugh. “In my vagina prison.”
“How soon can you get here?”
“Not for another two weeks.”
“Damn it. Prison never sounded so cozy before.”
“I’ll keep him locked up the entire time I’m in Chicago, if you want. We might actually get thrown in real prison, though, if we have to go out in public. And it might make our friends uncomfortable.”
“Miller and I are pretty open. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
I blush and snicker. “Anyway, it’s late. I should go.”
“Because you have to work in the morning?”
“Yup.”
“’Kay. I’mma go whack off to the pictures I took of you while you were sleeping last night.”
“Lies! I didn’t fall asleep.”
“You totally did. For about ten minutes. Night, Lily girl. I’m looking forward to spending time in pussy prison.”
Less than a minute later, I get a text. It’s a picture of me with my head on his chest. I’m definitely asleep. And we’re both naked. My hand is curled up under my chin, my lips are parted, and my hair is damp near my forehead. Randy’s smiling, and his stunning, honey-colored eyes are on the camera.
Another message comes from him:
Look at how gorgeous ur
.
My tummy flutters. He’s such a flirt and a charmer.
Another message comes in. This time it’s a video. It’s exactly the same scene as the picture, only not a still frame.
With his eyes still on the camera, he drags a fingertip down my cheek. “Lily, Lily, Lily, wake up for me.”
I moan in my sleep, but lift my
head toward his voice.
“Come on, baby, open your eyes for me.”
I watch my lids flutter, another soft sound escaping. Randy’s not looking at the camera any more, he’s focused on me. “There you are. Didn’t I tell you? No time for sleeping tonight.”
“No time,” I murmur.
“That’s right. Where am I supposed to be right now?” His voice is whisper quiet, his chest rising and falling faster as I lift my head, blinking blearily up at him.
My lips curve into a coy smile. “Inside me.”
The video goes blurry when his mouth finds mine. His groan is the last thing I hear before the screen goes blank.
I’m so turned on right now. And a little mortified. But mostly turned on. Holy hell. Randy made a video while I was sleeping. He could use it for blackmail. Except that doesn’t make sense. I have nothing he wants. Apart from my vagina prison.
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Forever PUCKED (Pucked #4) Page 31