Hot as Puck: A Bad Motherpuckers Novel

by Lili Valente

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Justin

  One Year Later…

  Somewhere out there, in the crowd of friends and family dancing, laughing, and roasting marshmallows over beach fires that flame brightly against the bluish pink of the sky darkening above the waves, is the girl I’m going to marry.

  As soon as possible.

  Tomorrow, if she’ll let me whisk her away to the courthouse or Vegas or wherever we can get the deal sealed the fastest.

  But knowing Libby, she’ll want to wait and plan something beautiful because she loves planning things.

  Like my twenty-ninth birthday party, which is by far the best party I’ve ever had. Bar none. From the location—a guest house on the ocean with enough rooms to house all my best friends and their significant others, in addition to a cavernous basement where the kids attending will roll out their sleeping bags—to the delicious, gourmet comfort food, to the kites and Frisbees and other games Libby brought to play on the beach, it has been a perfect day.

  And if I have anything to say about it, it’s going to be an even more perfect night.

  “You ready?” I ask Nowicki as I swipe my suddenly clammy palms on my jeans and cast a quick glance down the path leading up through the dunes. Libby is going to be here any second.

  Nowicki claps a firm hand on my back. “Ready. Anyone who comes looking for you or Libby will be told that you took a long walk on the beach.”

  “And no one goes up the secret staircase,” I remind him, though I know he doesn’t need to be reminded. Nowicki has come a long way in the past year. His focus on and off the ice is laser sharp. He won’t let me down, and he’s the only person I trusted not to let something slip about my top-secret plan. The rest of my friends and family are too close to the issue.

  The issue, of course, being me and Libby making it official and setting a date to get started on forever.

  “No one up the staircase,” Nowicki echoes. “I’m going to head out so I’m gone before she gets here. You’ve got this, Cruise.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate the help,” I say, swiping my stupid sweaty palms on my jeans again.

  I’m ninety-nine percent sure Libby’s going to say yes, but that one percent margin of error is apparently enough to give me a raging case of hyperhidrosis. That’s the name of the medical condition that makes your hands sweat too much. I know this because Libby used it to beat me at Scrabble a few weeks ago. She is not only beautiful, sexy, generous, funny, and thoughtful, but crazy smart to boot.

  I am in no way worthy of her, but she seems to love me to distraction anyway.

  When she rounds the corner in the path and our eyes meet across the dunes, her face lights up like she’s been given a wonderful surprise. Even though it’s just me, the man she arranged to meet here at seven o’clock, the same man she’s woken up to every day for the past nine months, since I finally convinced her to move in with me and put me out of my misery. Because being apart from her is misery made bearable only by how good it is to come back home.

  “Hello, sexy,” she says, sliding her arms around my neck and pressing up on tiptoe for a kiss.

  “Hello, beautiful.” I kiss her with the words as my hands slide down to palm her ass through the sexy white linen dress she’s wearing. It’s loose-fitting and ruffled at the bottom, but sheer enough to have ensured I’ve been sporting a semi all day long. “Are you ready for your surprise?”

  “I am, but I still say the birthday boy should be the one getting surprises.”

  “I’m the birthday man, Collins. And birthday men like to spread the gifts around.” I take her hand, leading her toward the entrance to the secret staircase, an old servants’ entrance from the 1800s that leads directly to the third floor of the home we rented for the weekend. “Besides, I’m hoping it’s something we’ll both enjoy.”

  She squeezes my hand, grinning as we start up the stairs. “Hmmm…something we’ll both enjoy. I wonder what it could be? Is it a hand or two of poker to help me practice not being the worst player ever?”

  “It’s not a hand or two of poker,” I say, playing along.

  “Not a hand or two of poker,” she muses aloud. “Is it one of your mom’s fresh strawberry-rhubarb pies for us to share, even though strawberries and rhubarb are out of season?”

  “Sadly, no, though I think Mom has one frozen that I can steal for you the next time we’re over at their place.”

  “That would be lovely. But no pie now, so…” She taps her finger thoughtfully against my wrist. “Is it ski tickets for opening weekend at Timberline?”

  “No, but I’ll get those tomorrow.”

  She laughs. “You don’t have to. I was just teasing.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I enjoy acquiring things that make you happy.”

  “You make me happy.” Libby stops beside me at the top of the final landing, in front of the simple wooden door, looking up at me with a warmth that still makes me feel so fucking lucky to be the man who somehow won her heart. “So, I’m hoping the surprise has something to do with you and me and some alone time with no clothes on before we end up in a room right next door to your parents.”

  I grin and close my fingers around the doorknob. “It might be something like that.” I push the door open, revealing a large, open attic space with exposed rafters and a canopy bed draped in sheer gold curtains. The candles I lit just a few minutes ago flicker in small white dishes all around the bed, making the scene pretty damned romantic if I do say so myself.

  “Oh, Jus, it’s beautiful,” Libby says, her hand drifting to cover her mouth as she steps inside. “Like a fairytale.” She turns back to me, a sparkle in her eyes that I recognize so well.

  “You have an idea,” I say, before she can get the words out.

  “I have an idea,” she agrees, bouncing lightly on her feet. “I’ll be Sleeping Beauty and you can come wake me up with a kiss.”

  “A kiss anywhere I want?” I ask, working open the buttons on my dress shirt.

  “Anywhere you want,” she promises in a naughty voice as she toes off her sandals and gathers her dress, holding it up as she skips across the room and jumps onto the bed with a giggle. “But not my lips,” she warns, pointing a finger my way as she lies down on the pillows. “Surprise me, Cruise.”

  “Oh, I will,” I promise as she closes her eyes. I study her as I shrug out of my shirt and reach for the close of my pants, deciding she looks more beautiful than any princess I’ve ever seen. Kate Middleton has nothing on my Libs.

  Please be mine, I think as I climb onto the bed and slowly lift her dress, loving the way her breath catches when I reveal her tiny white panties and the smooth expanse of her stomach. For a moment, I think about kissing her perfect pussy or the delicate hollow of her belly button, but in the end, I decide to go for something I know she won’t be expecting.

  I push the dress higher, until I can reach back between her shoulders and pop the clasp on her lacy bra. Libby traps her bottom lip between her teeth as I push the bra up, baring her breasts and I whisper, “Sleeping princesses don’t bite their lips.”

  She immediately releases her lip, and her face goes peaceful once more. Libby excels at role-playing, and playing professor to her naughty schoolgirl is one of my favorite things. But tonight I’m not going to draw out the game. I don’t want there to be any pretend going on when Libby discovers my surprise.

  I come onto my forearms, bracing myself on either side of Libby’s ribs as I press a kiss just to the left of the center of her chest, right above her heart. Her breath rushes out as I run my tongue in slow circles over the place where her breast begins to curve, and her fingers thread slowly into my hair.

  “A heart kiss,” she murmurs. “Excellent move, Prince Charming.”

  “Thank you, baby.” I bring my tongue to her nipple, circling and flicking across the tight flesh until she’s shifting restlessly beneath me.

  “Clothes off,” she says, pulling her bra and dress over her hea
d and tossing them to the floor. “I need you naked.” She reaches for the waistband of my boxer briefs, but I gently put her hand away, not quite ready for her to discover what’s beneath just yet.

  “Patience, beautiful.” I cup her breasts, rolling both of her nipples between my fingers at the same time. “There’s no need to rush.”

  “But people will wonder where you are,” she says, cheeks flushing as she arches into my touch. “God, that feels so good. Harder, please. Oh, yes. Yes, just like that.”

  “I love it when you tell me what you want,” I say, my cock so hard I can feel the soft threads of my surprise starting to dig into the skin around the base of my shaft.

  “I love it when you’re inside of me.” Libby reaches for my boxers again. “I’ve been wet for you all day. It turns out birthday parties make me frisky.”

  “Then we’ll arrange to have one at least once a month. Maybe twice.” I sit back on my heels, just out of her reach. Things may be going a little faster than I planned, but I still intend to be the one doing the big reveal. “But before I fuck you, Libby, I want to show you what I’ve been working on.”

  “What you’ve been…” Her words trail off and her brows shoot up as I pull down my boxer briefs, revealing my surprise. A second later, Libby starts to laugh—really, really hard—but this doesn’t faze my cock in the least because it is completely prepared for and thrilled by her laughter.

  “Oh my God, what is that?” She pushes up onto her elbows to get a better look at my cock decoration. “Is that a bull?”

  “It is a bull.” I watch Libby’s face as she surveys my latest crocheted creation with another giggle, waiting for the moment when she realizes why I chose to make a sock puppet bull to put on my cock.

  Yes, I’m crazy, but there is a method to my madness.

  “Is this because you want me to take your bull by the horns?” She runs a teasing finger up my shaft, toward the face of the bull. “Or do you…” She trails off again, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she sees what I’ve used to make the ring through the bull’s nose.

  “Jesus, Justin.” Her wide-eyed gaze jerks up to meet mine. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s an engagement ring that I stitched into a bull sock puppet that I crocheted for my dick because I wanted to do something special for the woman I want to marry more than I’ve ever wanted anything, then yes. Yes, it is.”

  Libby’s eyes fill with tears as she reaches both arms toward me. “You lunatic, yes! Oh my God, yes!”

  I go into her arms, kissing her hard and deep, so happy I can’t keep from smiling. But that doesn’t keep me from kissing her some more as I pull the bull from my cock and nudge Libby’s thighs apart. I want that ring on her finger, but I need to be inside her first, to feel her tight and wet around me and know that I’m never going to have to say good-bye to any part of her, body or soul.

  “Yes,” she cries out as I push deep, filling her completely. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “My new favorite word.” I groan as she grips my ass and pulls me even closer, deeper, digging her nails into my tight muscles. “Damn, Libby, you feel so good.”

  “It’s still better every time,” she says, moving with me as I begin to thrust in and out, riding her slow and easy, wanting to make it last. “I love you so much.”

  “So much,” I echo, kissing her sweet lips.

  And then I flip us both over and show her how much by making love to her breasts with my mouth, licking and sucking and biting as she grinds on top of me until she’s panting and moaning and seconds away from losing control.

  “Yes, Libby. Fuck, yes, baby. Come for me,” I beg. And when she goes, I grab her beautiful ass and pin her tight to me, nudging her clit with my pubic bone again and again, drawing out her pleasure until my cock is soaked with her juices and she’s trembling on top of me, boneless and breathless.

  Only then do I roll us back over and fuck her hard, slamming between her soft thighs, taking my gorgeous girl until the pressure hits critical mass and I explode. I come crying out her name, the only name I ever want on my lips when I’m drowning in pleasure, as my cock pulses thick and heavy, milked dry by Libby’s slick, tight, utterly enchanting pussy.

  Afterward, we have a little trouble finding Ferdinand—the name Libby decides to give the cock puppet—and I start to have a minor heart attack, but we finally locate the bull and the ring shoved deep under the covers at the end of the bed. With a sharp tug, I break the thread tying the ring into the puppet’s nose, and slide it onto Libby’s finger.

  “It’s beautiful.” She holds it up, wiggling her fingers until the diamond sparkles in the candlelight. “And I will treasure Ferdinand forever and ever. Though we’ll definitely have to hide anything that looks like a toy, but has ever been on your cock, from the kids.”

  “Agreed.” I sigh, running my hand lazily up and down her bare thigh as we lie side by side, staring up at the symbol of our decision to make a life and a family together. “So I assume that means you want kids, too? Guess we should have talked about that before I popped the question.”

  “This is a perfect time to talk about it.” Libby captures my hand, threading her fingers through mine. “Yes, I want kids, but I want you most of all. As long as I have you, I’m all good.”

  I smile. “Me, too. Babies will just be the icing on the Libby cake.”

  She turns her head on the pillow, returning my grin. “We should probably head back to the party. Tell everyone we’re engaged and stuff like that.”

  “We probably should.” I cup her breast in my hand, brushing my thumb over her nipple. “But I have a problem.”

  She bites her lip. “What’s that?”

  “Talking about getting you knocked up makes me want to fuck you again. Just to practice, you know,” I say as I move on top of her. “Make sure I’m going to know how to do it when the time comes.”

  “Right, practice,” she says with mock seriousness as she cups my balls, rolling them gently, making my already thickening cock swell. “I mean, practice is important. It makes perfect, I hear.”

  “You’re already perfect.” I capture her lips for a kiss. And then one kiss becomes two and three, and then I’m sliding back inside my love, making her come for me again while I think about what a lucky bastard I am to have a lifetime to spend with my best friend.

  *

  The End

  *

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  About the Author

  Lili Valente has slept under the stars in Greece, eaten dinner at midnight with French men who couldn’t be trusted to keep their mouths on their food, and walked alone through Munich’s red light district after dark and lived to tell the tale.

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  These days you can find her writing in a tent beside the sea, drinking coconut water and thinking delightfully dirty thoughts.

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  Last summer…

  *

  The summer breeze off the Pacific is cool and sweet, the setting sun casts a sleepy orange glow over Cannon Beach, and majestic Haystack Rock rises from the waves a few hundred feet from shore, like a benevolent overlord watching approvingly as families take advantage of the longest day of the year to party long after most of these kids would usually be in bed asleep.

  All in all, it’s an excellent evening for burning underwear.

  “Good-bye silk thong,” I say, tossing my favorite, most comfortable thong onto the fire. It catches on one of the unburned driftwood limbs, trembling there as the flames lick upward, as if hoping for a last-minute rescue.

  But there will be no rescue. All the underthings must go. I’ve got the entire contents of my lingerie drawer in the duffle bag slung over my shoulder, and I’m not leaving until every bra, panty, and garter belt has been reduced to ashes.

  “Good-bye comfortable cotton briefs.” I drop a handful of simple black and white briefs into the heart of the fire, where they begin to smolder immediately. “Good-bye lace boy-shorts. Good-bye push up bra, I knew you well.”