Pucks & Penalties: Pucked Series Deleted Scenes and Outtakes Version 2.0 (The Pucked Series)

by Helena Hunting

  I groan, partly because it feels good and also because I’m trying to lift my hips farther and my quads feel like they’re on fire. Randy takes a little bit of pressure off when he holds my right hip, but it’s not enough to alleviate the burn, which is becoming an orgasm distraction. Though I have had three already, and he’s only going to have one. This round, anyway.

  The biggest issue is that the couch, as comfy as it may be for lying-down sex, isn’t all that practical for acrobatic sex. Randy’s learning this as he tries to pick up thrusting momentum but struggles with the uneven, soft surface.

  It’s fine with me. It still feels good, and watching him try to troubleshoot the issue while keeping me in this goddamn position is actually entertaining, even if it is becoming close to unbearably uncomfortable. But I refuse to be the one to break.

  His frustration is the first to give out. He grunts his annoyance, hooks his arms under my knees, palms my ass, and leans forward. “Grab my shoulders and hold on tight.”

  I do exactly as he asks—it’s whatever he wants tonight—and I’m suddenly in motion. My shoulders hit the back of the couch as Randy’s feet land on the floor.

  “What exactly are you doing?”

  “Changing things up,” he says, like our sex-robatics should be expected.

  To a certain degree they are. Randy likes to try new positions, but this is a little over the top. I’m parallel to the seat of the couch rather than laid out on it now, with my shoulders resting where my head would be if I were sitting and, you know, watching TV or something. I let my head drop back so I’m looking at an upside-down version of myself in the mirror on the wall.

  I have a very clear view of Randy’s beautifully built, straining muscles as he holds me perpendicular to his body. He’s angling me perfectly so that my boobs don’t impede his view of my shorts in the mirror—they really are horribly stretched out now—and the base of his cock as he pulls out a little and pushes back in.

  Well, this explains everything.

  “Just can’t help yourself, can you? Always wanting to watch what you’re doing to me.”

  He shifts his gaze from his own reflection to mine. “You don’t seem to be minding the view.”

  I grab my boob and bite my lip, still keeping my eyes on him. “I love the view.”

  It’s really all I need to say. Randy holds on to my hips and pounds two more orgasms out of me before he lifts me up and carries me piggyfront—with his cock still inside me—to our bedroom where he sexes me until he finally has his own orgasm.

  We didn’t even bother to pull the covers down, so we lie on top of the duvet, breathing heavily. Randy rolls us so we’re side by side. I trace the lines of a high-rise on his arm while I come down from the orgasm high.

  “Can I come with you tomorrow?” I ask.

  “To the consult with my tattoo artist?”

  I glance up at him. “Would that be okay?”

  “Sure. I mean, I’m just going to be looking at designs and going over plans. It’s nothing exciting.”

  “I don’t have to come if you don’t want me to.”

  Randy brushes my damp bangs off my forehead. “You can come if you want. My artist is a little intense, though.”

  “Intense how?” Violet mentioned having gone with Alex when he got his most recent tattoo at the end of the season. I’m not sure his artist was the same as Randy’s. But she said all the guys there were hot.

  “I don’t know. Hayden’s like…serious most of the time.”

  “So I shouldn’t make jokes about spelling things wrong?”

  Randy makes a face. “Probably not.”

  “Noted.” I do some more finger tracing. “Maybe I should get something, too.”

  “You want a tattoo?” I’m pretty sure his voice lowers an octave.

  I shrug and follow the outline into the crease of his arm. “I have some ideas.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “You only have regular earrings. You don’t really seem like the body-modification type.” He skims the shell of my ear. I’m wearing the earrings he bought me for Valentine’s Day. They’re mismatched skates: one is a black hockey skate, the other a white figure skate. I pretty much wear them all the time.

  “Maybe I’ve just never had an opportunity to explore my wild side.”

  “I’m pretty sure we explore your wild side every time we have sex in a public bathroom.”

  “We haven’t done that in months!”

  “Uh…the last time we were at Sunny and Miller’s, we totally fucked in their bathroom.”

  “That was attached to the bedroom we were sleeping in; it doesn’t count.” I pinch him, and he laughs.

  “You can talk to Hayden about your idea tomorrow if there’s time,” he says. “Maybe he can sketch something for you.”

  I caress his forearm. His tight, hard forearm. The forearm attached to the hand attached to the fingers that recently ruined my shorts. “He’s done all your work so far, right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Randy watches my fingers crawling up his arm. “He has. He’s a seriously gifted artist. You should see the wings he put on his girlfriend’s back. They’re insane.”

  “Insane how?”

  “Like, they look real. He’s got pictures in his custom album so you can check them out tomorrow.” Randy traces an imaginary pattern on my arm. “So if you got a tattoo, where would you want it?”

  I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t know. There are a few spots I wouldn’t mind.”

  He peruses my naked body. “Such as?”

  “Well, I thought about maybe my shoulder.” I tap the area just beside my blade.

  He kisses where my finger just was, following with a nibble and a ticklish beard rub. “It’s a sexy spot, for sure. Any other ideas?” His very recently used cock kicks against my thigh where it’s been resting since it left the Vagina Emporium.

  Interesting. Talking about me getting a tattoo seems to be making Randy randy again.

  “I could put one on my ankle or my foot; that way I can cover it if I want to, but it’ll be visible in the summer when I’m wearing open-toed shoes and sandals.” I run my foot along the outside of Randy’s thigh.

  “I like that idea. Tattoos on the top of your foot can be painful, and sometimes the ink bleeds.”

  “Hmm. I didn’t think about that. Well, there’s always the hip. I mean, I guess it’s kind of cliché, but it’s sexy, right?”

  Randy drags a finger over my ribs and down my side, stopping at my hip where a potential, yet-to-be-designed tattoo might go. “That would definitely be a sexy place for some ink.”

  “It sounds like there’s a but in there.”

  “It could be painful, what with you being so lean and all.” Randy’s way of calling me skinny is so much nicer than the way the jealous girls used to say it when I was a kid.

  I reach down and give his semi-hard cock a pat. “It might be worth the pain if this is the kind of reaction it gets.”

  “You think so?” He rolls over on top of me, fitting himself between my legs again.

  “Wow. I didn’t realize you’d be this excited about me getting a tattoo.”

  Randy hooks my leg over his hip. “You have no fucking idea.”

  Based on the smoulder he’s got going on, and the big hard-on now mashed against my stomach, I think I do, in fact, have a fucking idea.

  Round two is even better than round one. Now I’m really excited to meet his tattoo artist, and not just because Violet said he’s hot.

  Chapter Two

  since when do you like hockey?

  HAYDEN

  I PAT MY back pocket, checking for my wallet for the seventeenth time as I round the corner. “I gotta roll out, kitten. I’ve got a consult this morning.”

  I’m greeted by a sight that immediately makes me reconsider whether I need to go in almost two hours early on a Saturday morning. Tenley, my girlfriend, is w
earing my favorite outfit in the entire world: a pair of shorts that are far too skimpy for her to ever leave the house in, and a camisole that shows off some of the design I put on her back. But that’s not the best part. It’s the apron and the hot pink legwarmers slouched around her ankles that make my dick try to punch its way through my zipper.

  That and the fact that she’s making cupcakes. I fucking love cupcakes almost as much as I love Tenley.

  She looks over her shoulder, her long, dark ponytail swishing. She’s holding up a spatula covered in fresh buttercream icing. “It’s only nine. I thought you didn’t have to be at the shop until eleven.”

  “I’m going in early to set up.”

  “For a consult?”

  “It’s an important client.” I haven’t told Tenley who’s coming in, mostly because I don’t think she’ll actually care. She’s not a sporty girl, so I don’t expect her to get all excited about a hockey player getting a tattoo.

  She cocks her head to the side. “Who’s so important that you have to go in this early?”

  “I have an NHL player coming in. I usually schedule his appointments early so it’s not a thing, you know?”

  Tenley perks up a little. “An NHL player? For Chicago?”

  “Yeah.” I take her hand and curl all but her index finger into a fist. Then I swipe it over the spatula.

  “Which player?” she asks as I bring her finger to my mouth.

  “Ballistic.” I suck the creamy sugar off, swirling my tongue to make sure I got it all.

  “Randy Ballistic?” She yanks her finger away, her eyes going wide. “You have a consult with Randy Ballistic?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I go for the spatula, but she hides it behind her back. It’s not much of a deterrent. In fact, it allows me to pin her against the counter.

  “I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve mentioned it! And you’re meeting with him today?” Tenley’s voice is all pitchy.

  I pause in my quest to get the icing from her. “Since when do you like hockey?”

  “Are you kidding? Who doesn’t like hockey?”

  “You’re always reading something when I put sports on.”

  “I can multitask.”

  I’m not sure I believe her, but her face is going red. “What’s his number?”

  She grins. “Sixty-nine.”

  “What position does he play?”

  “He’s a forward, and he played for New York before he was traded here last year. Chicago only made it through the first round of finals, and their team captain, Alex Waters, suffered a serious concussion and some broken ribs in March, which took him out for the rest of the season.”

  “Who are you, and what the fuck have you done with my girlfriend?”

  Tenley pokes me in the chest. “Just because I’m a book nerd doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate highly aggressive sports.”

  “Apparently.”

  Her other hand also disappears behind her back, which pushes her chest out. If she wasn’t wearing the cupcake-patterned apron, I’d be able to see some cleavage. When her hand reappears, she holds her index finger in front of my face. It’s covered in icing. I latch on to her wrist and wrap my lips around it. The only thing I like better than Tenley’s cupcakes with buttercream icing is Tenley decorated with buttercream icing. It makes for sticky, but fun and delicious sex.

  “Do you think I’d be able to meet him?”

  I’m still sucking on her finger, so I’m hoping the breathless quality of her voice is related to what I’m doing, rather than thoughts of Randy. I take my time tongue-cleaning her finger before I let it go. “Only if you keep it together and don’t act all starstruck.”

  “I won’t act starstruck.” She sounds a little offended.

  I give her a look.

  Tenley purses her lips. “Seriously. I will keep it together.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you come by the shop when you’re done with the cupcake business.”

  Her grin is ridiculous. She jumps up and down, her boobs bouncing. “Oh my God! Yay!”

  “On second thought, maybe it’s not a good idea.” I’m sort of teasing. Tenley never gets girly excited over anything apart from maybe when I take her to concerts, so this kind of reaction makes me a little wary. Because I get jealous like that.

  It’s something I’m working on.

  Based on my current reaction, I’m still not quite where I need to be.

  “I promise I’ll get all my excitement out before I get to the shop.”

  “Should I be worried about how jacked up you are over this?” I steal the spatula from her and lick it, heedless of her protest.

  Tenley skims my arm and curves one palm around the back of my neck. “Are you getting territorial on me?”

  “Should I?”

  She cocks a brow. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what I get out of it.”

  “You mean besides meeting a famous hockey player?”

  Tenley twirls the end of her ponytail around her finger and runs it along the column of her neck. She’s taunting me. On purpose. I lean in and brush my lips along the edge of her jaw. “I have to leave for work.”

  “Okay. We can talk about this later.”

  I bite the sensitive skin just below her ear. She tastes sweet, like the sugar she’s been feeding into the mixer. I move down an inch and suck just a little.

  “Hayden,” Tenley grabs my shoulders.

  “Hmm?” I move an inch lower and suck again, harder this time.

  Instead of getting annoyed at me for possibly giving her a hickey, Tenley grabs my hair, keeping my mouth attached to her neck. “Don’t start something you’re not going to finish.”

  I chuckle and glance at the clock on the stove. It’s only ten after nine. I can take care of her and still get to the shop with plenty of time to prep. I left everything out on my desk last night anyway. It’s just me being anal, partly because Randy’s consult will be followed by a group meeting in a couple of weeks. He and a few teammates are getting similar versions of the same tattoo. I want everything perfect for when the guys come in to review their designs.

  I pull the tie on her apron, and Tenley ducks her chin so I can get it over her head. Her nipple shields are visible through her flimsy tank. Before I take that off, I reach behind her and pull down the blinds, keeping the neighbors across the way from getting a view of the action. Tenley helps out by dropping her shorts and kicking them across the floor.

  I grab her by the hips and lift her onto the counter.

  “There’s only ten minutes before I have to test the cupcakes,” she warns.

  “I’ll be fast.”

  “Not too fast.”

  I pull her tank over her head and groan. Cupping her breasts, I thumb her nipples. “Did you change these this morning?” She has on my favorite shields: cupcakes with little jeweled barbells. They make her nipples look permanently hard.

  “I did.”

  “I fucking love these.” I lean in and take one between my lips, then move to the other side, giving the other nipple the same treatment while Tenley fumbles with my belt and the zipper on my jeans.

  Before she can stick her hands down my pants, I drop to my knees, dragging her forward until she’s at the edge of the counter. Tenley holds tight to the granite lip, her head resting on the cabinets behind her, waiting for my next move.

  Starting at her knee I kiss a slow, wet path up the inside of her thigh. I pause at the tiny cupcake tattoo I put just above the crest of her pelvis. I’m the only one who gets to see it.

  Dropping my head, I brush my lips over her clit and flick her with my tongue. She jerks and sighs, but doesn’t say anything about wanting me to go faster. Tenley knows the more demanding she is, the longer I’m likely to draw out the torture. It always ends well for her, but we’re under some time constraints. Based on the timer on the stove, I’m down to six and a half minutes to make her come.

  That shouldn’t be a problem.


  I suck softly on the barbell piercing the hood of her clit before pressing my tongue flat against it. My tongue ring clinks faintly against her barbell, and Tenley moans. I lift her feet onto my shoulders and keep up the hard licks, interspersed with light sucking and tongue swirls. She likes it all based on the moans and hair pulling.

  I check the timer. I’m down to a minute and a half. “You better come soon, kitten, or the cupcakes are gonna burn.”

  “You’re the one who loses if that happens. Maybe you should lick faster.”

  She has a point. Still, I can’t let her get away with that kind of snark unpunished. I grab her hips and hold on so she can’t get away as I press the ball of my tongue ring hard against her clit and make tight circles. Tenley gasps and tries to bow forward, but there isn’t room for that to happen. Instead she’s forced to hold on to the cabinet pulls for balance.

  “Holy fuuuuuck.” She starts bucking just as the timer goes off.

  When the hip jerking stops and she goes limp, I push up off my knees and grab her tank top from the counter, using it to wipe my mouth. “Want me to check the cupcakes, kitten?”

  She makes a noise rather than using an actual word, but I take it as a yes. I wash my hands before I shove them into the mitts and open the oven. The sweet aroma of fresh vanilla makes my mouth water instantly. These aren’t some Betty Crocker mix knockoffs. These are from scratch.

  I use the tester thing, making sure it comes out clean before I take the cakes out and set them on the counter to cool.

  Tenley’s still slouched against the cabinets with her legs splayed when I turn back to her. Since I didn’t use my fingers to warm her up, she’s decided to use her own. She has three buried in her perfect pussy, eyes locked on me as I pull my shirt over my head, drape it neatly over a chair, and then shove my pants and boxer briefs over my hips.

  I give my cock a couple of strokes, ready to replace those fingers and chase down my own orgasm. “Looking for this, kitten?”

  At my approach, Tenley removes her fingers and opens her legs wider. “Uh-huh.”

  Since foreplay’s already been taken care of, I circle her clit with the head of my cock. The ball on the barbell that goes through one side and comes out the other makes a dull clink against her clit piercing. Tenley pushes my hand out of the way, wrapping her slick fingers around me. She’s the one who drags the head lower and slides a little closer to the edge of the counter, encouraging me to ease inside.