Puck Buddies

by Teagan Kade

  “Apparently, he talked her into an abortion, and she went through with it, to save face and shit.”

  This I did not know, but it would go some ways to explaining the hold he thinks he has on her—‘thinks’ being the operative word, because there’s no way in hell it’s going to continue under my watch.

  “There are variations on it all, of course,” continues Ricky in a slurry, sing-song voice, “that she secretly has a kid somewhere, she’s a polygamist…”

  The rest of his words fade away, because I’m thinking, lost in my own thoughts.

  What else, I consider, don’t I know about Harper Dunham?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  HARPER

  Oh, if I could only untangle this spider’s web of thoughts in my head. How much easier life would be.

  I’m collecting my things, about to shut down my office computer, when there’s a knock on the door. I look up expecting a student, maybe Mindy, but it’s the woman from Human Resources. “Hi there.” She smiles, the dictionary definition of corporate presentation in her ivory blouse and power skirt. “Can I come in for a moment?”

  I don’t know what to do, but I can’t really refuse. “Ah, sure,” I tell her, gesturing forward.

  ‘Office’ is a bit of a misleading term. It’s more like an elevator in here, forcing her to sidestep around piles of textbooks and boxes to take a seat.

  She smiles.

  I smile.

  An awkward silence fills the room.

  “Are you going to sit down?” she asks.

  I place down the papers in my hand. “Of course,” I mutter, seating myself quickly. I don’t know why I’m so nervous.

  “I’m Linda, by the way.”

  “Harper,” I reply.

  And there’s the all-is-well smile again, which only means everything is most definitely not. “Well, Harper, I just thought I’d pop in and see how you’re doing.”

  HR doesn’t do house calls like this. There’s a reason she’s here. “I’m… fine, thank you.”

  She opens the folder in her lap, taking out a sheet of paper and studying it before plastering on that smile once more. “Basically, this is an ordinary welfare check we conduct from time to time amongst staff, to get a sense of where our faculty is at. Do you understand?”

  I nod. “Sure.” I’m glad she can’t see the way my foot is tapping away La La Land style.

  “Although,” Linda continues, referring to her notes again, “there was an anonymous report made you might be dealing with additional stress of late. Is that true?”

  “Stress?” I gulp. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Stop smiling! I want to scream.

  She slides the slip of paper back into the folder, closing it and placing her hands on top to lean forward. “Is there something happening, perhaps off-campus, that might be affecting your mood, your…” she’s careful here “…state of mind?”

  Mild concern just turned into DEFCON one. There’s nothing routine about this. Someone put in that report, and I’d bet my skinny ass it was James. But the question remains, what does he want from me? My resignation? My humiliation? I don’t understand it.

  I won’t let him get the upper hand here. I compose myself, force my back to straighten and a cheery smile to return. “Now you mention it, I have been dealing with some family issues.”

  Linda’s all ears now. “Oh?”

  “My sister is going through something. She needs my support.”

  Linda flips open her folder, leafing through her notes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  Shit.

  Damn data gathering these days. “Stepsister,” I correct, hoping that’s enough to satisfy her. “We are very close.” I’m not good at lying. I’m praying she’s not seeing through this smokescreen I’m putting up.

  She smiles again. “Ah, I see. Is it anything we can help you with?”

  I place my hands carefully on the desk. “As I said, it’s a personal, family matter, but I’m fine. There’s no need to worry.”

  Satisfied, Linda stands and smooths down her skirt. “Well, thank you for your time, Harper. If you do need to talk further, I’m right down the hall.”

  I stand and nod. “Of course. Thank you.”

  Linda smiles once more and leaves… thank god.

  I close the door and slump against the back of it, my heart jack-hammering. I’m shaken, I’ll admit it.

  Think, Harper, think.

  I do know one thing: This has to stop.

  I check my watch.

  Yep, he’ll be there alright.

  I open the door and march down the hall, stepping right into James’s office and closing the door behind me. He looks up from his desk in surprise. “Harper?”

  He’s had a haircut, actually looks half-presentable, more like the man I fell for all that time ago, that guy who won me over with his keen insight into semiotic methods, but I’m not here for nostalgia. “Let’s cut the shit, James,” the curse word landing a double hit of surprise. “Tell me what you want, because I’m not a mind-reader. You broke up with me, so excuse me if I’m failing to compute exactly what’s going on here.”

  He stands and moves around his desk, sitting on it before me, one polished loafer hanging in the air. The smugness is gone. If anything, he looks tired, dejected. “Harper…” he breathes out, shaking his head.

  “No,” I interrupt him, “no games. I wasn’t devastated by the break-up. I didn’t spend a week balling my eyes out and sobbing into the mirror. Why can’t we just be colleagues again, adults?”

  “Do you want the truth, Harper?”

  “No, I want lies,” I spit, heavy on the sarcasm

  “I want to get back together,” he states.

  And boom comes the screamer from left field. “But—”

  He stands, right in front of me. “I miss you, Harper. I miss our conversations, the walks we used to take around campus. I miss your body, your…”

  I put my hand up. “Stop, please.”

  “Surely,” he pleads, “you’d rather be with a peer, someone who understands that brilliant mind of yours, than, well, someone so much younger, so… immature.”

  Immature! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

  “James…”

  He takes my hand, and for some crazy reason I let him. “Just think about it, okay?” His face darkens. “Really think about it.”

  I slip my hand away and back towards the door, unsure how to respond.

  So I don’t.

  I leave, momentarily standing in the middle of the hallway stunned.

  All of this because he wants me back?

  But it’s not the idea of saying yes that’s got me worried.

  It’s what might happen if I say no.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  COLTON

  If there’s one thing Becketts are good at, it’s telling ourselves what to think. So I tell myself I don’t care about the rumors. I tell myself what Harper’s done with her own body is her business and hers alone. Who cares if she slept with a co-worker? She’s human, fallible.

  Just like you.

  The more I tell myself these things, the more they make sense until, finally, they are truth—steadfast and undeniable.

  I pick up my cell and call Harper, surprised when she answers on the second ring. “Colton?”

  It’s so good to hear her voice. “I want to see you.”

  “Your place or mine?”

  “Mine. I’ll text you the address.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  She hangs up and I’m not sure what to make of the call. Did I detect a hint of urgency there? Or was it concern? Something’s going on and I’d bet my left nut it’s got to do with her meddling motherfucker of an ex.

  I don’t know what it is, but I sure as hell intend to find out.

  *

  Harper opens the door to her apartment wearing a crop top and leggings. I take it in. It’s a complete cont
rast to her usual, librarian ensemble. “You look… amazing, though I don’t think it’s exactly the Summer Games outside.”

  She smiles, holding the door wide. “Come in, smartass.”

  I do so happily, taking in the way the leggings wrap around the tight buns of her ass, the twin dimples at the base of her spine begging for my touch.

  I spot the treadmill in the corner of the room and it suddenly makes sense. “Ah.”

  She drinks from a glass on the kitchen bench, the area under her neck flushed. “I used to run with my dad, ever since I was seven or so. We’d go down to Mount Royal before the sun came up, run until we switch-backed to the summit. I hated it back then, but now I love it. So, I run because it helps clear my mind… That and I really, really love chocolate.”

  I notice the framed poster on the wall reading ‘C7H8N402: The Chocolate Molecule. There are faux chocolate block cushions on the longue, a bright pink Easter bunny that should be well into hibernation by now. “Cute.”

  “That I got from my mother.”

  I take a seat on the back of the longue. “Everyone’s got a sweet tooth,” I let my eyes linger on her legs, “though everyone has their own way of satisfying it.”

  I’m tossing over whether to tell her about James, our run-in, but I don’t want to ruin the mood.

  Instead, I stand and approach her, because god knows I can’t take another second sitting here looking at dessert with my mouth open and my dick about to pop a hole in my pants.

  She backs up against the kitchen counter.

  My hands go out wide. “Hey, what’s the matter? Was it the sweet tooth line, because yeah, that was a little on the nose.”

  She looks down, rubbing her arm. “Colton…”

  “If you’re not feeling it, maybe I could—”

  Her eyes meet mine, wet and large.

  Enough.

  I take hold of her hips and pull her forward, let her know how hard I am for her, how much every inch of my being wants to have her right now. I kiss her, but it’s not so much as returned as endured.

  I hold her face. Clearly, this isn’t going to happen. “What’s going on inside there, baby? Are you over me already, because I’ve got enough tricks to last a lifetime, trust me.”

  “I’m sorry, really. It’s not your fault.”

  “Is it something to do with your ex?” I ask.

  A single second and I know I’m right. “If that fucker…”

  She grabs my arms. “Colton, it’s not about James.”

  “He confronted me at the rink, you know, put on a bit of a chest-beating display.”

  “He did?” Harper’s as surprised as I was.

  “Oh, yeah. I nearly had to put him down for good the way he was talking about you, threatening you.”

  Her grip tightens on my arm. “You cannot get physical with him.”

  I can’t help but sound defensive. “Hey, he was disrespecting you, and me. You think I should stand for that, take it on the chin like the happy-go-lucky lad, I am? No, fuck that.”

  “If you hit him, touch him, anything, the blowback is going to sweep us both up.”

  “I heard rumors.” It’s out of my mouth before I’ve had a chance to think it through.

  She lets go of my arms, walking away with her hands on her hips. “Rumors?”

  “That you had a kid together, an abortion… Is that true?”

  She’s close to tears when she faces me and it only makes me want to break her ex more, rip off his sad excuse for a dick and feed it to him for fucking breakfast for making her shed a single tear.

  Harper shakes her head slowly. “No, there was no baby or anything, but…”

  “But…?

  “There was a pregnancy scare, of sorts. He pressured me to get an abortion, completely freaked, blabbing to one of his colleagues about it. I guess that’s how word got out.”

  “I’m lost. You had the abortion?”

  She wipes away a tear. “It turned out to be a cyst, can you believe it? But when I told him he acted like the whole thing was this big joke, completely gaslighted me. It was so awful. He made me feel horrible about it. Why I stayed with him after that I have no idea. I guess I wasn’t certain I deserved better, and now that I have it…” She drifts off.

  I run forward and take hold of her again. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

  She can’t stop the tears, letting them fall freely from her face, puffy and red. “I care for you, Colton. I do, but I don’t want you ruining your future over me.”

  “What does that mean?” I’m genuinely unsure.

  She avoids eye contact, sniffing back more tears. “It means… we have to think about this sort of thing, is all.”

  I can’t separate my feelings. I’m angry, but I don’t know why.

  She sees it. “Take off your shirt.”

  “Harper, I don’t think sex is going to—”

  “Take it off… Please.”

  And I can’t deny her, taking it off and letting it drop to the floor.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  HARPER

  I move my head forward until my lips meet his.

  He presses his body to mine and it’s a furnace, burning through the clothing between us. Fresh sweat breaks on my brow as his hands meet around my back, my tears drying on my cheeks. His hands dip to my buttocks, to hold them as his tongue enters my mouth and I begin to melt below.

  It’s only when my lips part my body remembers to breathe. I take it all in in one gasp and it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m drowning in desire, his heady scent filling my lungs, scalding them.

  Questions rally in my head for answers, but I don’t want to think. I want to do away with the rational if only for a moment.

  I can see by his breathing Colton is equally affected. I lift my hands and place them flat onto his chest. It is stone, hard and unyielding yet burning with a fever like I have never felt before. Lower, his cock is rock hard against me. It twitches and I still cannot grasp how anything that impossibly large could fit inside me.

  It’s my turn to please him, to return some small measure of the pleasure he has provided me, but this is different to being with James. I want to do this. I want to make Colton come, if only to forget who we really are for a brief moment in time.

  My hands fall from his chest, trembling. I undo his zipper and tug his jeans and underwear down, his cock, scarlet and swollen, unleashed.

  I wrap my fingers around his length. I’m surprised to find the surface of his member hotter than I recalled, a pulse beating steady below and a bead of fluid tinted amber by the fire seeping out from the tip.

  My fingers fall further and run into the thicket at the base of his cock, finding the hidden sack there. I roll the balls contained within between my fingers and the movement pleases him, a deep growl emanating from his throat, his eyes closed in pleasure.

  I crouch and then kneel on the floor until I am face to face with the twisted trunk of Colton’s cock. I run my hands up and down his chest once more, taking in the flat planes that gather there and the sharp bones that lead down to his pelvis and its unnatural appendage.

  I grasp it by the root, roll my lips and sink my mouth down upon it, my mouth stretching wide to accommodate the head.

  I can’t move my mouth far at first, but I use my hand to pull myself down on his cock, slickening its surface with my tongue and plunging deeper with every mouthful. I pull back and realize by the horizontal marker of my handiwork upon it I have taken half his shaft in my mouth.

  You’ve done this before. You can do it again.

  He groans, lost in the feeling, his hands falling gently upon my head, his hips swinging forward.

  I renew my efforts, using my hand to pump below. I draw out the strokes and the head of his cock responds by jerking inside the warm confines of my mouth, my tongue lashing against it all the while, pressing up against the glans.

  His hands press me deeper, urging me on.

  I open my mouth as wide a
s it will go, raise my head up and then lower it until I feel him move into my throat

  “Oh, god,” he gasps, his fingers pulling at my hair. “Harper, I’m going to—”

  He goes to pull away, but I hold him firmly in place, continuing to suck and stroke.

  He shouts in release, jerking forward hard as he fills my mouth.

  I swallow, surprised by the silky texture of his release. I keep swallowing until I’ve taken it all, his cock jerking upwards against the roof of my mouth dry and spent.

  He stands back looking down at himself.

  “Jesus. Harper, I had no idea…”

  I stand, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. “Hey, I can be wild when I want to.”

  I look for approval but fail to find it given the abrupt way his expression shifts, the pure hunger filling it. If anything, he looks angered, primal.

  He reaches forward and tears my crop top down the middle, my breasts falling free, thick strips of material falling to my feet. He shouts, kneeling to tear at my leggings, ripping and pulling them apart until they too are discarded and I’m naked but for the thong I’m wearing—the only one of its kind in my wardrobe. A single tug at the crotch does away with that, snapping against my inner thigh to join the shreds of clothing around my feet.

  He steps back, pieces of cloth still gripped in his hands. His eyes are wild. James would be completely flaccid within seconds of coming, but Colton’s cock remains completely rigid.

  My hands fly to my breasts and sex in an attempt to cover my modesty, but he pulls them away tenderly, placing my arms at my side. He gazes, his mouth open, and I see the hunger in him, the hunger for me. “Don’t. I want to see you… every hot fucking inch of your body. Do you understand me?”

  I nod, drunk on his power.

  The heater’s on. I’ve just finished a workout. The room could not be any hotter, yet a ball of ice, all nerves and anticipation, has formed in my stomach. My body stands before him like a pearl, stark white unblemished by the sun, dusky nipples standing stiff from my breasts.

  Wetness gathers between my legs. My body prepares itself, yet when I look upon the cock before me I am struck once again with fear.

  Colton kneels before me on one knee and I see the worship present, the awe in which he beholds my body. He takes my left foot in both hands, cradling it like a newborn, raising it up and placing it on top his shoulder, the lips of my sex spreading in the process.