Pucked Over (Pucked #3)

by Helena Hunting

  Lance eyes her again. “You check your messages lately?”

  I don’t know why he’s asking me that. I’ve got this weird feeling in my stomach like I drank too much. That could explain the lack of action in my pants, except I’ve only had three beers. That’s nothing. I can drink at least six before I start feeling it.

  I reach behind me for my jacket and feel around in the pocket for my phone. The girl who thinks she’s going to get naked with me puts her palm on my thigh and squeezes. “You can check your messages on the way to your room, right?”

  I ignore her and her wandering hand and look at my phone. I checked it a couple hours ago after the game on the way to the bar, but I had nothing—not even a good luck message from Lily, which kind of sucked. Now there are fifteen new messages, all of which have appeared in the last half hour. I don’t know what the deal is with the reception here in Canada. Miller warned me it can be wonky sometimes. It’s weird, like this country creates some kind of phone limbo.

  Some of the messages are from Miller—but his contact is all screwy, coming up as a number instead of his name. Several are from another number that’s vaguely familiar. The girl beside me is still talking. Her hand’s still on my thigh. I move it off because it’s distracting. “Gimme a minute.”

  I skip the messages from Miller and check the other ones.

  Msg me when u get this. I can take Uber 2u

  idk what hotel ur at

  Sunny isn’t answring

  Lft u vm

  Got hotel addy. On my way, ok?

  “Fuck.” A horrible feeling slams into me like a puck to the groin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I scrub a palm over my face.

  The girl puts a hand on my arm. “Is everything okay? Why don’t we go upstairs?”

  “Can you back off?” I’m way loud. And angry. For a lot of reasons I don’t understand.

  She blinks a few times, her caterpillar eyelashes fluttering. “What’s your problem?”

  My phone beeps with another message:

  here

  “I gotta go.” I push my chair away from the table. “I’ll get you for the drinks tomorrow, yeah?” I say to Lance.

  “Sure thing, Ballistic. You okay?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  The girl, who’s clueless, stands up like she’s ready to come with me. I hold it up, prepared to shut her down, but Lance grabs her by the wrist and pulls her close. “He’s got shit to take care of. You can stay here with us, gorgeous.”

  She’s does that blinking thing again, but seems too stunned or maybe confused to argue. Lance pulls her down in the chair beside him. I owe him one.

  Grabbing my jacket, I make my way to the exit. I don’t want Lily to see Lance with the girls. Nothing happened, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit about what might or might not have if I hadn’t gotten her messages. I hit the call button and bring the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?” her voice hits me in stereo.

  She’s standing in the lobby, close to the elevators. She’s wearing a skirt, and her legs are bare. Her shirt has a sheen to it—fitted, pretty, soft. My cock jerks like it’s been electrocuted. I cross the room, punch the button for the elevator, and slide an arm around her from behind.

  I lower my mouth to her ear. “You came.”

  She gasps, and her phone drops to the carpeted floor. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  She turns around and puts her hands out as if to push me, but I tighten my grip around her, crushing her to my chest.

  “Seriously, why didn’t—”

  I don’t give her a chance to finish the question. I tilt her head back and take her mouth. It’s already open, so I don’t have to fight to get my tongue inside. She tastes sweet, like she’s been eating candy. She stops trying to push me away and holds on to my shirt. I don’t give a shit that we’re in the middle of the lobby and I’ve got my tongue down her throat. I may also have my hand on her ass.

  I hear my name and see the flash of a camera, reminding me that while I’m fine with this PDA, Lily’s picture posted all over the bunny sites—with me groping her—isn’t going to go over well with Waters or Miller. It’s more Waters I’m concerned about.

  I move my hand to her waist and break the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers. “Hi.”

  “Hi back,” she says breathlessly.

  “You came.”

  “Well, not yet. But based on this greeting, I probably will soon.” Her laugh is shaky, laced with nervousness maybe, or uncertainty.

  The elevator dings. I scoop up her phone, take her hand, and pull her inside, slamming my thumb against the close door button repeatedly before anyone else can get in with us. We narrowly miss having to share the space with another couple. As soon as we’re alone, I press the button for the twenty-second floor. Then I cage her against the wall with my arms.

  “I didn’t think you were coming.” I don’t mean to sound pissed, or like it’s an accusation, but I think I do. I don’t get what the hell is happening, or why I’m feeling so messed up. It’s not like we’re a thing. She’s not my girlfriend. I’m the guy she’s fucking, or being fucked by, every once in a while.

  “Neither did I.” She swallows hard.

  Her hands are on my chest, those gorgeous, dark brown eyes locked on mine. Her full lips are parted, breath still coming fast.

  “I’m really glad you did.” I lean down, intending to kiss her, but the elevator dings. A group of guys joins us, forcing me to back off.

  Lily drops her head and stares at her shoes. She’s wearing navy flats. The toes are scuffed. The cuff of her jacket has a string hanging from it, and one of the buttons is missing. She’s carrying what I’d call a girl-sized duffle bag. It’s worn out to the point that it looks like it’s going to fall apart.

  She never talks about money with me, but then most of our conversations don’t include a lot of personal facts. Based on my discussions with Miller, I have a feeling the two-jobs thing is about more than saving for school. There are loans for that.

  She had to take a cab to get here, and that cost money. Which I have lots of, and clearly she doesn’t. But she’s never said anything about it, ever. Maybe she doesn’t trust me, or she’s embarrassed. Both of those possibilities bother me. Normally this isn’t something I’d be concerned with, but it’s just that making things easier for Lily would make things easier for me.

  It’s about more than that, though, if I’m honest. Lily’s almost-absence tonight nearly caused me to make a choice I wouldn’t have felt good about. I’m not even sure I wanted to feel good about it. I want to say I wouldn’t have done it, that I wouldn’t have brought that girl up to my room and fucked her. But I don’t know if it’s true, and for some reason that’s messing with my head.

  I put an arm around Lily’s shoulder and pull her to me because one of the guys keeps looking over at her, and I don’t like it. I glare at him, and he drops his gaze to the floor.

  Thankfully, the next time the elevator stops we can get off; otherwise I’m liable to start something I shouldn’t. I’m really worked up, and I don’t think it’s going to get better until I’m inside Lily. I shoulder-check the guy on the way out because he’s an idiot and won’t move to make it easy for Lily to get past him.

  Taking her hand, I guide her to my room. I jam the card in the door and glance over my shoulder. She’s standing behind me, fidgeting nervously with the frayed strap of her bag. Her eyes go wide when she looks at me, probably because of my expression. I imagine it’s fairly fucking intense. “I hope you weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight.”

  “And here I thought we were gonna have a little snuggle and a nap.” A wavering smile pulls at her perfect, luscious lips. Her words are meant to be snarky, but her voice is soft. “Of course I don’t plan on sleeping,” she adds. “What the hell would be the point of me coming all the way here for that?”

  This is what I need. Confirmation that she’s here for one reason and one reason only: To g
et fucked.

  Chapter 19

  All the Fires in the World

  LILY

  I take three steps into the room and jump at the sound of the door slamming shut. I turn to find Randy latching the safety. He advances on me, and I take a cautious step back. I don’t know why—okay, I do. His eyes are fiery with lust, but for some reason he looks angry. Also, his hands are balled into fists. He must notice me staring at them because he flexes and releases them a couple of times, then rolls his head on his shoulders. I’m not sure if I’m the reason for his current state, but there’s something exhilarating about having a man like Randy look like he’s about to lose control. It’s also a little unnerving.

  I have to pee, but I’m thinking he’s not going to be interested in letting me go right now. I back into the wall, and he stops coming at me when we’re six inches apart. His warm, minty breath washes over my face.

  “I tried to call you this afternoon, and yesterday.” His words are heavy, dropping like boulders.

  “I called back. And messaged.”

  “Canada screws with my phone.”

  “We’re like that. Passive on the outside, messing with everyone on the down low.” I’m nervous, more than I’ve been before with Randy. I can’t read his mood, and I showed up unexpectedly.

  He looks so good right now. He’s wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white button-down, the top two buttons undone. His red tie hangs loose, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The ink drives me nuts.

  Looking at him is like being punched in the face by Medusa. He’s the kind of beautiful that makes women turn into mindless, sex-crazed puck bunnies. I get it now. I’ve had this man inside me. He can fuck like a champion.

  It’s the reason I Ubered here. I have to leave in five hours, and I’m positive Randy’s not kidding about getting no sleep tonight. I don’t care. I can deal with being tired. That’s what coffee and energy drinks were created for.

  My gaze flips up to his, and I get trapped there. I feel like I’m locked in a room with a panther, not a man. He leans in a little closer and his tongue glides along his lip, the skin glistening in the dim light. I notice, once again, that all but the bathroom light is off. He’s always setting the mood. I act on instinct and pounce. Literally, like a cat, I jump him.

  I thread my fingers through his hair, and they go easily this time since it’s held back by nothing. It’s thick and gorgeous and dark. Holding on to the back of his neck, I propel myself up, our lips colliding, teeth clashing.

  Randy grips my ass and presses his hips into mine, pinning me against the wall. I always end up pinned against something. Beds are the nicest since they’re soft. He groans and starts rocking his hips, like he’s planning to fuck me right through our clothes—not that I’m wearing many. My legs are cold thanks to the stupid skirt. I forgot to pack leggings, but I wasn’t stopping home to get a pair.

  He palms my ass with one hand and cups the back of my head with the other. At first I think it’s to protect me from any kind of banging. But he curls his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back. It’s not gentle, but it’s not rough either.

  I lift my chin, and his mouth descends on my throat. His lips are so soft; his teeth make me shiver. “I need you naked. Now.”

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  He carries me over to the bed, which is a relief. I’ve been on the ice all day and a prone position is much preferred. So is a mattress over a wall. Randy finds the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. His eyes dart to my chest. I bought a new bra two days ago when I started toying with the idea of cabbing it here.

  “This looks new.”

  “I haven’t worn it much.”

  “Does it still have the tags attached?” He slides a finger under the strap at my back and kisses along the lacy edge.

  “Haha. Why don’t you take it off and find out.”

  He looks up at me, still wearing that fiery expression. With one easy flick he opens the clasp. I make a noise that turns into a moan when he noses the cup out of the way and immediately sucks a nipple into his mouth. Oh God. I’d forgotten how good it feels to have his hands and mouth on me.

  Okay, no I hadn’t. But I’ve been trying to forget for the past four weeks, because I’m not so sure I’m managing this casual thing all that well.

  I’ve been dying to see him this entire time, aching for the feel of him on me, around me, in me. If it was just the sex, I’d be okay, but it’s not. I think I might actually like him—as a human being. A person. A man. If he didn’t live in another country, I might want to date him. And that’s a bad thing to want, because Randy doesn’t date. I know this.

  When my mom wouldn’t give me the car for the night I was pissed—and maybe a little relieved. But then I started thinking about it. And Randy. And how this might be the last time I get an opportunity to be naked with him. He seems into these encounters we have, but he could strike me from his list at any time. The sex is amazing. I didn’t want to end up regretting not having it again. Just in case. Which is pathetic, but I’m not going to focus on that right now. Instead I’m going to focus on the feel of Randy’s mouth on my nipple.

  I’m also going to work on getting him naked. I shove my hands under his shirt until I reach his pecs. I give his nipples a little tweak—but not too hard, because I’m not sure how he’ll react. Reversing the motion, I run my nails down his tight stomach. His whole body does this vibrating thing, like he’s on some weird radio frequency, and he breaks the suction. “Your nipples. Fuuuuck.”

  It’s not much of an explanation. He sits back on his knees and works on getting his shirt off. He doesn’t bother with buttons, just yanks his tie over his head. I go for his belt buckle, but he gets there first. He’s just as aggressive with that as he was with the shirt. He pulls it free, and it snaps against the comforter.

  I eye the belt. He’s still holding it. “I don’t do spankings.”

  “What if I do?” He slides it ominously along his palm.

  “Then you can pass that over, and I’ll do my best not to feel bad about smacking you around with it.”

  Some of the heavy mood dissipates, and Randy cracks a smile. “Don’t worry, luscious Lily. That’s not my thing. Hair pulling is a totally different story, though.”

  “I like the hair pulling.”

  “I know.” He pops the button on his pants and slides them over his hips, kicking them off.

  He’s not wearing his favorite underwear, maybe because he wasn’t expecting me. Before I can shove my hand into his boxers and get a look at Nessie, he flips my skirt up. I’m rewarded with one of his amazing groans. My vagina claps her pretty lips, and my magic marble lights up like we’ve won the million-dollar prize. Sexing with Randy is almost that good.

  “You bought these for me.” He’s not asking, he’s telling.

  I’d lie, but it’s pointless. Also, acknowledging will likely get me what I want faster. Which is his cock inside me. “I did.”

  “I promise I won’t shred them with my teeth, but I really want to.” Randy shakes his head and looks down at my crotch like it’s a dessert he’s dying to eat, but can’t. Which is ridiculous, because he can have it whatever way he wants it. Well, almost any way. I’m not down with him trying to stick his whole damn hand in there, or any weird things like produce.

  He runs his hands slowly up the outside of my thighs, taking a few deep breaths. He’s muttering to himself a little. Maybe it’s a pep talk.

  “Everything okay up there?” Again, I’m going for snark, but I’m still a little discombobulated by how intense he’s being, so it’s more breathy than sarcastic.

  “Everything’s fuckin’ fantastic.” He bites his bottom lip and exhales a couple more heavy, deep breaths. His fingertips slip under the elastic.

  I whimper when they don’t stay there, but glide back down to my knees. I part my legs, giving him lots of room to get all up in there with whatever he wants—fingers, tongue, dick. Any of them are welc
ome at Lily’s Vagina Emporium.

  On the next upward slide, I do the bridge to encourage him, lifting my hips off the bed so my pussy is closer to his face. I’m beyond caring about how worked up he was in the elevator, or how his jaw was doing that tic thing every once in a while. Now he seems better. Maybe my near nakedness calms him, like a sedative.

  I toss my bra over the side of the bed and push my panties over my hips, but Randy covers my hands with his, stopping me.

  “Not yet.”

  “But I—”

  “I’m savoring, Lily. It’s been thirty fucking four days. Thirty-four days since I’ve licked that pretty pussy of yours. Been inside you. Made you come. Don’t rush me.”

  All it takes from him are words to get me close to the edge. I wonder if this is normal. I don’t think so. He’s like a snake charmer, except it’s orgasms he’s charming out of me rather than reptiles.

  On the next pass, he breaches the elastic. He flips his hand and drags a single knuckle along my slit. I’m shaking like a crackhead looking for a fix. It’s insane. I bite my lip to stop all the words from coming out. A few random whimpers escape, but I keep the stilted phrases like “fuck me” and “oh God, I want to come so bad” and “I’ll be your sex slave forever if you’ll continue to make me orgasm like this for the rest of my life” inside my head. Instead of saying any of those things, I moan his name and continue with the random noises.

  He shifts my panties to the side. I’m not sure why he doesn’t take them off—it’d probably be easier—but as long as he keeps rubbing my clit, I’m fine with how awkward this must be for him.

  His erection is poking at the safety hatch of his boxer briefs. If my arms were longer, and I wasn’t already on the cusp of coming, I’d try to get a hand on it. Randy takes care of the problem by sticking his free hand down the front at the same time as he pushes two fingers inside me.