Pucked Love

by Helena Hunting

  I learned a lot about how Charlene dealt with their escape, and how the internet and her mom’s job formed the basis of her sex education, which explains pretty much everything about her bedroom antics.

  I couldn’t stand to see Charlene upset, so I pulled some strings and set up an anonymous fund to help the khaki ladies reintegrate into society. We were able to secure housing where they could all remain together, if that was what they wanted. Unsurprisingly, most of them opted to work at a local greenhouse facility.

  Charlene’s mom decided not to participate in the Momma Domme reality show, thank fuck, and instead she took an external consulting role with Robbie’s Lab, which pays well enough that she decided she would retire from being a career Dominatrix, except for a couple of her favorite clients, anyway.

  But the best news came at the end of June—well, it was the best news for me, but not for King, our goalie, who ended up traded in the expansion draft. This means I have two years left with Chicago, and then we’ll see what happens after that. I won’t take Charlene away from Chicago or the people she loves, so if they don’t renew my contract, I’ll retire. Alex knows that, my agent knows that, and most importantly, Charlene knows that.

  I climb the steps to my front door and key in the code, having just finished a morning workout with Alex. We’ll be getting together again later in the afternoon for a barbeque at his place.

  “Charlene? I’m home!” I smile a little. The new-car smell hasn’t worn off on saying that in the month since she moved in.

  I wait for her reply, but all I get is silence. Her car is in the garage—her new car, the one I bought for her as a move-in gift—so she has to be around here somewhere. Excessive? Maybe, but it’s a nice car, and she deserves nice things for putting up with my shit on a daily basis.

  I drop my hockey bag by the laundry room door and head for the living room. Sometimes she listens to music while she reads or works in her chair, but she’s not there. I find her in the kitchen—she is wearing ear buds—concentrating on something.

  I pull one of the buds free and she startles, nearly falling off her stool.

  “You know we have a whole house sound system. You could save your hearing and some heart palpitations if you used that to rock out to…” I lift the bud to my ear to catch the tune. “Madonna?”

  She snatches the ear bud from me. “It’s retro.”

  I smile at her pink cheeks and survey the counter. “What’s all this?” The surface is covered in various candies and boxes of Fruit Roll-Ups. Maybe she’s been into her candy stash and has the munchies or something.

  Charlene claps her hands together excitedly. “I thought we could try something new!”

  I raise a brow. Since moving in, Charlene has started pulling out the I thought I might like it but I changed my mind toy box. Fifty percent of the time she decides she still hasn’t changed her mind, but the other half . . . well, let’s just say it’s been a stimulating transition.

  I motion to the array of candies. “You want a sugar high before we have sex?”

  She purses her lips, then licks them as her eyes dart around. She squares her shoulders, apparently finding her resolve. This should be interesting.

  “No. I thought maybe we could play dress up.”

  I look at her and then the counter, trying to figure out what the fuck she’s talking about. “I don’t get it. What are we dressing up?”

  “Your cock.” Her tongue hits the roof of her mouth when she says cock, purposely making it sound liquid. So of course mine hardens, until her meaning finally registers.

  “No.”

  She pouts. “Come on, it could be fun!”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Absolutely fucking not.”

  She opens her mouth, likely to argue her case, but I put up a hand to stop her. “I don’t give a shit if Alex lets Violet emasculate his dick with costumes. That’s their thing. It’s not going to be ours.”

  “But I worked so hard on this.” She holds up what appears to be some kind of cape.

  I’ve heard about this—not because I want this kind of information, but because sometimes Charlene shares things she probably shouldn’t with me. Apparently living together gives me extra information privileges. I’d be fine without them, but Charlene is chatty before bed at times.

  As I take in the array of cape-like designs, I’ll admit—in my head and never out loud—that she’s been very creative. “Still no.”

  She bites her lip, clearly trying to come up with a way to convince me to let her dress up my dick like a fucking superhero. Her eyes light up, and a coy smile appears. “I’ll let you tie me up.”

  For half a second I get excited by this prospect, and then I cock a brow. “No you won’t.”

  She runs a hand up my chest. “With the yellow satin ribbons.”

  As enticing as her offer may seem, I know Charlene. “I’ll get one wrist tied to the bed and you’ll change your mind like last time.” She was so cute, and anxious as hell by the time I freed that one wrist. It took me about thirty seconds to make her come. I also got a sweet blow job as a concession.

  “I won’t change my mind this time, I promise.” She parts her legs and pulls me between them.

  She really doesn’t want to give up on this, apparently.

  “Okay,” I concede. “I get to use the yellow satin ribbons. Then you get to dress up my dick with an edible costume.”

  Her brows pull together, and I fight a smile. This is clearly not going the way she expected.

  “Do we have a deal?”

  She huffs. “What about anal instead?”

  I scoff. “Baby, you love me in your ass. If I’m going to let you make a fool out of my dick, I better be getting something phenomenal in return.”

  She chews on the inside of her lip and starts slipping buttons free on my shirt. Her knees press against the outside of my legs. “What about anal against the window in the front room?”

  I like everything about that idea, except the landscapers are here. Usually the whole point is the illusion of an audience, but I have an issue with that today. “No.”

  “No?” She tips her head to the side, regarding me curiously. “Why not? The landscapers are working on the garden right under the window, aren’t they? You love that.”

  She hops off the stool before I can stop her and rushes for the front room, stripping off her shirt as she goes. I chase after her, her bra smacking me in the chest and dropping to the floor.

  Charlene’s all giggles as she glances over her shoulder and pulls her shorts and panties down, kicking them off.

  “You’re not playing fair, firefly.”

  “Says the man who likes to make me wait all damn day for an orgasm.” She wiggles her ass and slaps her palms against the glass, causing the landscapers to look up. Which is when the reason I said no becomes obvious.

  The company who does my landscaping hired a new kid. He’s in his early to mid-twenties and has full sleeves.

  She spins around, wearing an amused smile, and thumbs over her shoulder. “So it’s okay when it’s the Ramsbottoms and their poodle wandering by, or ancient Bob, but this new guy is a problem?”

  “You’re not checking him out while I’m fucking you.”

  “You think I’m going to check him out?”

  “I’ve seen the way you eye my tattoo artist. This kid looks almost the same, except less broody.”

  “I was trying to figure out the design on his arm, not check him out.”

  “Still no.”

  She throws her hands up in air. “Oh come on! Stop being so difficult.”

  I laugh and thread my fingers in her hair. “I’m always difficult.” I brush my lips over hers. “I appreciate your creativity, but you already own my balls. You’re not dressing up my dick.”

  “I’m trying to be fun, Darren.” She pouts. It’s cute. And she’s obviously already worked up, considering the way she’s rubbing her thighs together.

  “Stay right here, and don�
��t move.”

  I go back to the kitchen and grab one of the bar stools. Charlene is exactly where I left her when I return, rolling her pearls over her lips. I give her a dark look as I set the stool down in front of the window and hold out a hand. “Have a seat, Charlene.”

  She releases her pearls and slips her palm into mine, allowing me to guide her to the stool where she sits, facing the front yard. The landscapers are working on the bushes to the right. I adjust her position so her ass is hanging over the edge and I have the access I need.

  “Hands on the window,” I whisper in her ear.

  She complies, palms flat on the glass.

  I slide a palm under her chin and tip her head back so she has to look at me. I run my other hand down her spine and between her thighs to circle her entrance.

  I bend to touch my lips to hers. “Hands stay on the window and eyes stay on mine or I stop.”

  “Okay.” She nods and arches her back, probably trying to get me to finger her. Too bad I’m not in a hurry to make her come. I spend the next ten minutes making painfully slow figure eights around her clit and entrance, but not penetrating. I know exactly the moment to back off so she doesn’t go over the edge.

  “Darren,” she whines and lifts her right hand from the window.

  “Hands, firefly. Yours stay where they are if you want mine to stay where mine are.”

  She moans and slaps her palm against the window. The landscapers have moved on at this point, but she doesn’t know that.

  I go back to doing figure eights around her clit. “It’s a good thing the floor is hardwood. You’re making quite the mess right now.” She’s dripping down my fingers.

  “You’re so mean,” she grumbles.

  I laugh. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to play?”

  “I wasn’t expecting orgasm torture,” she shoots back.

  That’s the moment I push two fingers inside her, find the sweet spot and start pumping, hard and fast. She can’t keep her hands on the window, and for a second I consider stopping again, but we’re spending the afternoon with friends, and I don’t want her pissed off at me. So I keep pumping, and she starts coming. She latches onto my arm, nails digging in as her mouth falls open and a low moan bubbles up.

  I drop my mouth to hers. “Does it feel good?”

  “Oh my God, yes.” The S draws out, long and low. And still, I keep pumping, and she keeps coming.

  I could have her like this, but I want her wrapped around me, so I spin the stool and fumble with the button on my jeans. Yanking down the zipper, I free my cock, part her legs, line myself up, and push inside.

  “We’re finishing this upstairs so I can fuck you like I love you.”

  “Whatever you want, Darren.”

  “And you’re not dressing up my dick. Ever.” I grab two handfuls of ass and pick her up.

  Her lips find the edge of my jaw as I carry up the stairs. When she gets to my ear she whispers, “You have to sleep sometime.”

  I chuckle ominously as I stretch out on top of her on our bed and grind my hips into hers. “I think you’ve forgotten who the lighter sleeper is between the two of us.”

  Her eyes flare, and she starts to tremble again, likely a combination of the sudden spike of uncertainty and the grinding. I dip down and press my lips to hers. “I love you, little firefly.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Don’t forget that when you wake up tied to the bed one day soon.”

  Another nerve shattering orgasm steals her breath. I wait until she comes down again before I kiss her, and love her, and tease and torment, and love her some more.

  DARREN

  One summer later

  “Someone smells like he could use a diaper change!” Sunny scrunches up her nose and passes off baby Lane to Miller. “It’s your turn this time.”

  “You gotta keep an eye on Logan and make sure he’s not feeding Wiener all the cocktail wieners or we’re going to have bigger problems than this stinker right here.” Miller holds the screaming baby at arm’s length, his face contorted into a grimace. “I think it’s the broccoli soup that does this to him.” He heads for the cottage.

  “Logan!” Sunny calls out, and I follow her gaze to the table of food set up about twenty feet away.

  Her son is indeed feeding cocktail wieners to Wiener. He pulls the treat away every time Wiener gets close so the dog has to jump for them, making his ears flap and Logan burst into a fit of giggles. It’s cute, but if the dog gets the human treat, the cottage is going to smell like rotten dog fart for the rest of the weekend.

  “I’ll take Liam; you deal with Logan,” I offer. Turns out the reason Sunny looked so pregnant at the end of last season was because she was incubating two babies instead of one.

  Sunny glances from Logan to the squirming kid in her arms to me.

  “I can handle it,” I assure her.

  Prior to all of my teammates having babies, I hadn’t had much exposure, but when your best friend has a kid, it sort of forces you to figure out how to become an honorary uncle. I may not be one-hundred-percent natural around kids, but I can definitely watch one for a few minutes without the world coming to an end.

  Sunny passes the little guy off to me. “Thanks. I’ll be right back!”

  “Take your time.” He’s half asleep, or at least he is until he’s out of his mom’s arms and into mine. “How’s it going, buddy?”

  He shouts nonsense in my face and cranes to find his mom.

  “She’ll be back. She’s dealing with your older brother. He’s getting up to no good over there.” I have no idea how much he understands, but his little fists jab out, reaching for my sunglasses.

  I find a lounger and rearrange Liam so he’s stretched out in my lap, feet pushing into my stomach.

  “Look at you.” Charlene smiles as she crosses the lawn, a beer in one hand and some kind of girly drink in the other. She drops into the chair beside mine and pulls out her phone, snapping a bunch of pictures. “You better be careful, Mr. Westinghouse.”

  “Why’s that?” I tickle the bottom of Liam’s feet, and he bursts into a fit of giggles.

  “It almost looks like you’re enjoying this. People will start asking when you’re going to knock me up.”

  “You let me know when you’re ready for that, and we can jump on the baby bandwagon.”

  She laughs, but her expression shifts to contemplative. “Are you serious?”

  “I want whatever you want, Charlene. You know that.” I give his little tummy a tickle, and he giggles again and then farts. It doesn’t sound dry. “Oh, you just did that, didn’t you? I guess I better trade off with Miller.” I lean over to give Charlene a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  She grabs the front of my shirt, keeping our lips locked together long enough for her to get her tongue in my mouth for a stroke or two before she pulls back. “I love you.”

  “And I love you, firefly.” I kiss the end of her nose, and she releases my shirt. I take Liam to the cottage and run into Violet on the way.

  She’s cradling a sleepy-looking baby Robbie. She raises a brow when she sees me holding Liam at arm’s length. He definitely crapped his pants—the smell is getting worse, not better.

  Violet’s all smirky. I assume it’s because I’m holding him like he’s a nuclear bomb, not a kid, but if the diaper starts leaking, I don’t want to wear his crap, thank you very much.

  “Better not let Charlene see you with Liam.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s baby central in here, and it’s only a matter of time before her ovary clock starts ticking.”

  “Oh, well, nothing to worry about there. She’s already seen me, and I already told her I’m happy to knock her up whenever she’s ready.”

  Liam lets another fart rip, and Violet and I grimace at each other.

  “Come on,” she says. “Let’s get that taken care of before he explodes all over the place.”

  I follow her down the hall
to Robbie’s bedroom, which is right next door to hers and Alex’s. She pats the changing table, and I lay Liam down. He’s started squawking, probably annoyed because he’s marinating in his own crap. Violet puts Robbie in his crib, and I step back.

  “Oh no, this is all you.” She motions from me to Liam.

  “What? I can’t—”

  “Seriously, Darren? It’s poop. If you knock my bestie up, you’re going to need to learn how to do this. Might as well start now. Don’t worry. I’ll walk you through it.” She pats me on the shoulder.

  I give her the eye.

  “You don’t scare me, Westinghouse. Deal with the poop.”

  I sigh. I guess she has a point. If Charlene decides she wants to have kids, I’m going to have to change some shitty diapers along the way. I unsnap the onesie that reads iPood, ironically enough.

  “Okay, let’s get the wipes ready. Liam is notorious for his ass explosions, aren’t you, buddy?” Violet coos at him, and he smiles and claps his hands together.

  I prepare the wipes and look to Violet. “What next?”

  “Time to get your hands dirty. Okay, you’re going to pull the tabs on the diaper, and the trick is to slide the top of the diaper down and then grab Liam’s ankles and lift them before he can jam his foot in the dirty business. Got it?”

  “I think so?” I follow her instructions and gag a little as I get a glimpse of the damage. Violet walks me through cleaning him up, which is just . . . fucking nasty. Liam seems to think it’s hilarious, though.

  Violet’s all smiles as I go for wipe number fifty. “Did you bring the ring this weekend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You gonna pussy out again?”

  I’ve had the ring for a few months. “I’m waiting for the right time. I don’t want to push Charlene into something she’s not ready for.”