PUCKED

by Helena Hunting

  “There is no way, Alex! It’s not an option. Access denied, access denied!” My voice is so high I sound like I’ve been inhaling helium.

  Alex holds his hands up in supplication and speaks softly. “I’m just kidding, baby, I promise. Come back here and let me check out those panties again.”

  I’m still wary. This isn’t the first time he’s said something about getting up in there. I’m a firm believer if he’s talking about it, he wants to do it. He’s even admitted he’s thought about it.

  He almost backs me into a corner, so I sidestep him to escape. I’m not fast enough. I find myself in the air, and suddenly I’m on the bed, facedown with Alex’s body covering mine. His monster cock presses against my ass cheek.

  “So help me God, Alex, I will never let you touch my boobs again!”

  I mean it, too. Maybe.

  The weight of his body leaves me, and I flip onto my back. He’s doing a push up over me. It’s impressive.

  “I was just playing around. I like the panties.” His monster cock lines up with the right part of my body.

  His kisses are soft, as if he’s apologizing for scaring my bum. After a few heavenly minutes of making out, I’m no longer worried about his desire to enter the “no go” zone.

  He grips the hem of my shirt and tugs it over my head. I’m not wearing a bra, so his view is unhindered. He pushes my girls together and nuzzles into them, nibbling and kissing. He stays away from my nipples, avoiding full contact. It’s killing me.

  I’m a porno-moaning mess, writhing underneath him when he finally circles my left nipple with the tip of his nose.

  “Does that feel good?” I can feel Alex smiling against my boob.

  I bite my tongue to stop from begging him to just lick already. He’ll give in sooner or later. There’s one way to make it happen. I snake my hand down to the waistband of his pants, wrestle with his belt, and pop the button. There’s no messing around. I shove my hand inside and palm the MC. Alex makes a low noise in his throat.

  A moment later I feel the heavenly wet press of his lips followed by gentle suction.

  I squeeze encouragingly, not that he needs any encouragement once he gets started.

  While he devotes attention to my upper half, I push his pants over his hips and line up our lower halves. Even with my panties in the way, I’m still able to get some friction.

  “God, I want to fuck your tits.”

  It’s almost a growl. I stop moving.

  With his mouth still on my boob, he looks up and mumbles, “Oh shit, did I say that out loud?”

  Based on all the boob lovin’, it’s not like it’s a surprise he wants to slide his dick between them. What is surprising is how appealing the idea is.

  “You can if you want to.” I offer a tentative smile.

  Alex gapes at me. “What?”

  “You can . . . fuck my tits.” It sounds dirty. I like it.

  He scrambles up onto his knees. “Are you sure?”

  Biting my lip, I squeeze my boobs together in invitation.

  I’ve never seen anyone undress so quickly. Alex is naked before I can blink. He straddles my torso, gripping his giant cock. Oh God, it’s leaking. He rubs his thumb over the tip and strokes down the shaft as he stares at my boobs. His fiery eyes flip up to mine. “Is this okay? We don’t have to be in this position.”

  He’s so sexy like this—hard cock in his hand, looming over me, waiting for me to give him the go-ahead. I shimmy up the bed, rearranging the pillows so I’m mostly upright. Wrapping my fingers around his, I lick the head.

  A soft curse falls from his lips. He roots around in the nightstand, producing a bottle of lube. At my frown he’s quick to offer an explanation. “My hands are rough. This makes it better. Plus, I’d hoped you’d be coming to see me, and I figured it’d be good to be prepared in case we have lots of sex.”

  “You’re like the Boy Scout of sex, aren’t you?”

  I take the bottle from him, squirt a generous amount into my palm, massage it over my chest, and then stroke down his length. Guiding him between my breasts, I squeeze them together. Alex’s mouth drops open as he grabs onto the headboard and shifts his hips. The view is pretty incredible from where I am.

  After a few minutes, he abandons the headboard and takes over holding my boobs together. He pinches my nipples as he quickens the pace. I grab onto his rock-solid ass, helping out where I can. When he’s close to coming—he’s kind enough to warn me—I push his hands away, grab his cock, and wrap my lips around the head.

  “Sweet fucking—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead he groans as he comes.

  I mentally pat myself on the back for taking one for the team. I’d rather swallow than have his jizz cooling on my chest.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he says breathlessly.

  “I can always use the vitamins.”

  Cradling my face in his hands, Alex kisses me. “I love this mouth.”

  He moves down my body, dropping kisses as he makes his way to the land of Beave. Then he shows me with his mouth how much he appreciates the boob lovin’.

  I’m all for spending the rest of the weekend in bed if this is how things are going to go. Here’s hoping Buck hasn’t coerced Sunny into the same kind of position, otherwise things are about to get messy.

  VIOLET

  As much as I would like to say Alex and I spend the rest of the weekend having wild monkey sex, this isn’t entirely true. Friday morning we check out of the hotel and take a cab across the city to his condo, where his parents stayed last night.

  The one-thousand square foot, two-bedroom unit is on the top floor of a high-rise, overlooking the Toronto Harbour. The space is furnished for functionality, and the master bedroom boasts a stunning view of the city, including the CN Tower.

  A note from his mother sits on the dining room table, thanking him for letting them use the condo. Alex sends his sister another text as he shows me around the space, possibly checking for signs of her presence, as well. Fortunately, this time he receives an almost immediate response telling him she’s home in Guelph. Sunny loves emoticons. Her texts are more pictures than words. I’m relieved because he’s no longer worried about the Buck situation and far more focused on me.

  We spend the majority of Friday afternoon dodging cameras and ducking into funky little shops on Queen Street. Every time I express excitement over something, Alex buys it. It’s as excessive as it is charming. I have no choice but to accept his forced giftery, otherwise he feigns hurt feelings.

  I thank him later for all his presents by staying naked for the entire evening. Mostly I end up under him, not that I’m complaining.

  On Saturday morning, we have shower sex, pack our bags, and leave the condo. Alex’s mother invited us for brunch, and he couldn’t say no. Alex loads everything into the back of a sporty SUV. The man loves his vehicles. He has two in Toronto; a Mercedes for the summer and the SUV for winter.

  I’m nervous about spending time with his family. Eating a meal in their home where I’ll have to make small talk and tell them about myself is very different than meeting them at a loud bar.

  We drive in silence for a while as I stare absently out the window. I don’t note the change in my surroundings until Alex pulls onto a road which disappears into a forest.

  “Where are we?”

  “An off-roading trail.”

  “We’re going off-roading in an SUV?” Alex is an intelligent man, so he must know this car isn’t built for off-roading. SUV or not, it’s snowy, and we could get stuck. Also, we’re on our way to brunch with his family.

  “No.” Alex puts the car in park and unbuckles his seat belt. He leans over and kisses me. Roadside make out session? Yes and please.

  “I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Liar.” He kisses the spot on my neck that makes me wish we were naked.

  I close my eyes and debate whether or not I should tell the tru
th. “I’m nervous.”

  “What about?”

  Alex sits back, his expression somber. It’s hot. Although I’m biased; I find all of Alex’s facial expressions hot.

  “I think your mom hates me. What if I say something dumb in front of your family? We haven’t been seeing each other long, and you don’t know how ridiculously inappropriate I can be in social situations. I mortify myself sometimes—quite often, actually. It's fine with my friends, not when I’m dealing with the parents of my successful, intelligent, inordinately hot, and extra-well-endowed boyfriend.”

  “Once they get to know you they’ll love you, I promise.” He kisses the back of my hand. “My dad is super laid-back, and so is my sister. As for my mom, she’s probably certifiable, but she’s harmless.”

  “What if I accidentally make a comment about your monster cock? What if they serve breakfast sausages, and I compare its inadequate size to your love stick?”

  These might seem like stupid questions, but when nervous, I put myself in jeopardy of saying something this humiliating.

  “Did you just call my cock a ‘love stick’?” He smirks.

  “I don’t think you’re focusing on the issue here.”

  “Baby, everything is going to be fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

  His reassurances are starting to work. It’s as though he’s hypnotizing me with his voice and his touch and his pretty, pretty eyes. He kisses me softly.

  The heat between us explodes and we end up making out for fifteen minutes. It’s long enough to get us both worked up and almost make us late. The sexual tension in the car is thick like potato leek soup. I’d help him out with his problem, but I think it’s only fair we both suffer through brunch unsatisfied.

  Guelph is more of a town than a city, and it’s nothing like Chicago. Downtown is quaint, full of little cafés and shops interspersed with bars and pubs, catering to the college crowds. Despite the cold winter morning, the streets bustle with people, young and old alike. We turn onto a side street and pull into the driveway of a large, old, brick house.

  “Ready?” He squeezes my hand.

  “I think so.”

  When he gets out of the car he adjusts his pants. He has an obvious hard-on. Hopefully, the cold air will help shrink it. The only thing more horrifying than me making comments about his package would be him sporting a woody in front of his parents.

  Daisy greets us at the door. I’m stunned once again by the horror of her hair. It looks like the eighties threw up on her head. It seems even bigger today than it was the other night. Her matching eighties attire is a helpful diversion, though. While acid-washed and high-waisted pants have made a comeback in recent years—Lord help us all—it looks as though she unearthed her original duds from the attic. I sniff, there’s no mothball smell. How she’s managed to avoid being lynched by the fashionista police is beyond me.

  “Alex!”

  He turns his face away from her hair as they hug.

  “Violet, it’s so nice you could make it.” She hugs me, too. It’s another one of those loose, back-pat ones with no real affection.

  Her hair is so solid I worry it might ensnare me like a fly caught in a spider web. I make the mistake of talking while hugging Daisy.

  “Thanks so much for inviting me.” Stray hairs stick to my lips, and hairspray invades my mouth. It’s simply horrendous. I want to spit the taste out. I swallow repeatedly instead, spreading it around my tongue.

  “Alex, why don’t you bring your bags in, and Violet can help me in the kitchen.”

  Alex stands there for a few long seconds with a smile plastered on his face. He runs a hand nervously through his hair. “I already booked us a room—”

  “At a hotel? Why would you need to do that?” She looks from him to me and back again, her smile calculating. Alex’s mom is kind of a bitch.

  “This is Violet’s first time in Guelph—”

  “Which is exactly why you should stay here. You can cancel your reservations.” Daisy loops her arm through mine and steers me toward the kitchen. “I don’t get to see enough of my baby boy, and Violet has had you most of the weekend. I think she should be able to share you for one night. Grab your bags and bring them inside, sweetie.”

  Panic-stricken, I look over my shoulder as Daisy leads me away. Alex’s brows are drawn, and his lips are mashed in a line. He looks about as happy about this situation as I do. Brunch with the ’rents is one thing, a goddamned sleepover is another.

  “I’m so glad Alex was able to find some time to spend with us while he’s here. We see so little of him already these days with his schedule.”

  I stand awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, unsure if I should sit or stand. “He’s on the road a lot.”

  She picks up the biggest knife I’ve ever seen and slices the top off a pineapple. “Mmm. Relationships have always been a challenge for him because of it.”

  I hope the next twenty-four hours aren’t going to be full of jabs at me. I don’t think I can handle it without saying something I’ll regret.

  Daisy immediately gives me a task; thankfully, it’s not a difficult one because I can’t cook for shit. While I cut the tops off strawberries, Daisy makes mimosas. Booze is exactly what I need to beat back the anxiety and the gross lingering taste of hairspray.

  She hands me a glass as Alex and his dad saunter into the kitchen. Robbie is wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a Grateful Dead T-shirt.

  “Robbie! You’re supposed to get dressed! We have company.” Daisy puts her hands on her hips. “Are you doing research again?”

  I look from Alex, who’s smiling, to his father—also smiling, and back to his mother, who is not smiling. I take a closer look at Robbie. The whites of his eyes are shockingly red. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s high as a flipping kite.

  “I’m testing a new batch of medical this week. It’s supposed to increase appetite by fifty percent.”

  I guess my hypothesis is accurate. He slides his hand under his shirt, rubbing his stomach lazily. He’s got some abs under there. I look away. I don’t want to ogle Alex’s father.

  “How are you, Violet?” He grabs a handful of hulled strawberries and takes a seat.

  “I’m great. You?”

  “Mellow would be the scientific term.”

  I’ve only “met the parents” a couple of times in my dating history. None of those experiences were as bizarre as this one is turning out to be.

  As Alex and his dad chat about medical grade Mary Jane, I continue to chop fruit. Most of it ends up in Robbie’s mouth rather than on the platter. I’d say if the point is to increase appetite, it’s working well.

  Until now I’ve been so focused on being polite I’ve failed to take in the decor of the house. It looks like a bohemian gypsy got into a fight with a southern belle, and they exploded all over the place. Everything is either überfrilly or a throwback to the seventies. It’s hard to process it all. I wonder how a laid-back man like Robbie can handle so much visual over-stimulation. Maybe he likes tripping out to it.

  As I sip my mimosa and ponder this, Alex’s sister comes into the room. I nearly choke as Buck comes in behind her. Shit is about to go down, rumble style.

  Alex has his back to them. I do the most logical thing in the world. I grab his hand, pulling him toward me. My intention is to molest him. However, this plan has holes—the most important being the presence of his parents. So I stand there, staring up at him as I stroke his thumb with my fingers. Alex gives me a funny look.

  “Alex! You’re here!” Sunny’s voice distracts him from my distraction.

  He turns around. I assume he’s not very happy based on the way he squeezes my hand since I can no longer see his face.

  “What the hell?” He scares his mother half to death—and me, too with his thunderous shouting.

  “Alex! Use your inside voice,” Daisy says.

  “Alex,” I say gently as his grip on my hand tightens. If he keeps going he’s
going to break it. I need my hand, not just for my job but for other important tasks, such as jilling off.

  Unfortunately his focus is not on the hand he’s crushing, It’s on Buck standing beside his sister and smiling his ass off. At least he’s not touching her.

  “Hey, man. How’s it goin’?” Buck asks like it’s no big deal he’s here.

  I pull on Alex’s sleeve with my free hand.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks calmly.

  I’m losing the feeling in my fingers. I lean in and bite Alex’s arm.

  “Ow!”

  It works. He lets go of my hand.

  His head swings around. Oh man, is he ever pissed. As badass as he is on the ice, and as dominating and frisky as he can be in bed, he doesn’t intimidate me. Plus, his family is here, and so is Buck, so I’ll be fine.

  He rubs his arm. “Why’d you bite me?”

  “You were crushing my hand and words weren’t working.”

  He inspects my hand with his lips. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry.

  “Alex, watch your language.”

  “Sorry, Mom.” Alex then glares at his sister and motions to Buck. “Care to explain this?”

  Sunny looks Buck up and down. “Explain what?”

  “Why are you being so rude?” Daisy asks. No one pays any attention to her.

  Sunny flips her hair over her shoulder. She’s wearing a rainbow colored tie-dyed shirt and a flowy, ankle-length skirt. She’s not Buck’s type at all. He goes for the skanky, nearly naked sure-things. Yet here he is with Sunny, who seems like neither.

  Alex abandons questioning his sister—she does seem genuinely confused—and moves onto Buck. “Who invited you?”

  “I invited him,” Sunny replies.

  “Why?” Alex’s fists clench at his sides.

  “Um, because I like him?” Her body language tells me things her words don’t. She wraps a tendril of hair around her finger, and her eyes drop to her feet. Buck has snared her with his yeti magic.

  “You like him?” Alex’s voice rises with his eyebrows. “He’s a dirtbag!”