“We can take naps in between.”
I roll over and notice there is no warm, solid body preventing me from hogging the bed. I crack a lid and run my hand over the empty space beside me. The sheets are cool to the touch. My stomach sinks and my heart jumps into my throat at the thought that Lance has disappeared in the middle of the night.
Except then I hear the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing downstairs. I shove my face into his pillow and grin. It smells like his cologne. My entire bed smells like Lance. And sex. So much sex. I stretch out and groan at the aches already starting to make themselves known. Not that I mind.
Lance is an incredible, doting lover. Even if Kristi was lying, she was right about one thing: he’s certainly a giver.
I feel around on the floor for something to throw on so I can go see what he’s up to. I find his dress shirt and push my arms through the sleeves, fastening a few buttons in the dark. The shirt is huge on me, the sleeves ending six inches past the tips of my fingers until I roll them up, and the bottom reaches almost to my knees.
I pad down the stairs in the semi-dark. The light over the oven is on, illuminating a bare-chested Lance, who is rooting through my cabinets, mumbling to himself.
I watch him for a little while, appreciating the defined muscles in his arms, the broad expanse of his back, the ripple of his abs and the deep V leading my eye down… Holy crap. He’s naked. He turns a little, giving me an amazing view of his perfectly toned ass. God, his ass is unreal. Like every other part of him.
“Giving the neighbors a free show?” I ask.
Lance fumbles with whatever he’s holding, and several items fall out of the cupboard, hitting his chest before they drop to the counter and then to the floor.
“Hey. Shit. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He turns in my direction, and the bag of chips he’s holding hits the floor. “Are you wearing my shirt?”
I glance down, suddenly a little self-conscious. It’s buttoned cockeyed, one side hanging lower than the other. Half of my right breast is popping out.
I adjust it to cover myself. “It was the only thing I could find without turning on a light.”
“You should throw out all your clothes and start wearing my shirts.” He makes a C with both hands and holds them up in front of his face.
“What’re you doing?”
“Making a mental picture for when I’m whacking off later.”
I duck my head and laugh. God, he makes me feel sexy. “You’re going to give my neighbor a heart attack with this.” I gesture to his lack of clothing.
Lance looks down and runs a palm over his chest and down his abs. He’s half-hard right now and growing fast. “That old guy who flirts with you?”
“He doesn’t flirt with me.”
“Yeah, right. Anyway, he’s probably sound asleep, dreaming of your face and wishing he could still get a hard-on.” He pats his own, all proud and cocky about it. “Why you all the way over there?”
I round the breakfast bar. As soon as I’m close enough, Lance grabs the front of my shirt—his shirt—and pulls me up against him. Dipping his head he kisses my neck, then runs his nose along the exposed skin of my shoulder.
“Your hair’s all fucked up,” he murmurs. “It’s sexy.”
“So is yours. It’s sexy, too.”
He gives me a sleepy grin.
“What are you rooting through my cupboards for?”
“I was looking for a snack.”
“What kind of snack?”
“Something sweet. Like gummy bears or something.”
“Hmm… I’m more of a savory snack girl. Let me see what I can find.”
I give Lance a little nudge so I can get to the cupboards. He doesn’t give me much room. I feel his erection bump my hip as I reach up and do some rearranging. It’s dark, though, so it’s hard to see.
I rummage around until I find a few bags that feel like they could be gummies and grab them. There’s a small bag of jelly beans, some Swedish Berries, and a bag of Jujubes. I hold out the Jujubes. “Here you go!”
Lance frowns. “Those aren’t gummy bears.”
I look at the package. “They’re almost the same thing.”
He pokes the bag and gives it a dirty look. “Not even remotely.”
“They’re both chewy and full of sugar—what more do you need.”
“The texture isn’t even close to the same.”
I hold out the bag of Swedish Berries. “Well, what about these.”
“They’re okay, but still not the same.”
“Are you always this picky with candy? When you get Skittles do you sort them by color?”
“They’re all equal opportunity Skittles.”
“I don’t know if I believe you.” I give him another nudge with my elbow so I can access the cupboard again. “Let me check one more time.” I stretch up on my toes and feel around.
“Want some help?” Lance’s hands settle on my hips.
At first I assume his version of help is going to include pressing his hard-on against my butt, but that’s not what happens. He lifts me up until I can get my knees on the counter. I grab the shelf to steady myself—also, Lance’s hands skim the outside of my thighs.
Now I can see inside the cupboard. There’s a lot of junk food in there I didn’t realize I had. I don’t really eat sugary treats, but I keep them handy because my sister and April both like sweets.
“See anything good in there?” Lance asks as he tears open the bag of Swedish Berries.
“Maybe.” I grab what could be a bag of gummy worms, or something similar.
All of a sudden I feel a draft. I look over my shoulder to see what’s going on as Lance says, “I see something I wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of.”
I shriek at the sharp sting, followed by the wet stroke of Lance’s tongue. “Oh my God! You bit my butt!”
“It’s pretty damn biteable.”
“Does it taste like gummy bears?”
Lance puts his hands on my hips before I can climb down from the counter. He turns me around so I’m sitting on the cold Formica.
He parts my knees so he can make room for himself.
I hold up the bag of gummy worms. “Tada!”
He grabs it from me, tears it open with his teeth, and dumps half the contents into his mouth. He hums as he chews. “These are kinda stale.”
“The Jujubes are probably fresher.”
He shakes his head and continues to chew. It takes him a long time before he finally swallows. The entire time he’s running his hand up and down the outside of my thigh. His erection rests against my stomach, covered only by his shirt.
“I like this,” he says.
“You like what? Eating stale gummy worms?”
“Me in your kitchen, you looking all sweet and sexy in my shirt. Us.” Under the smirk lurks that vulnerability I saw earlier, the first time we had sex.
“I think you’re missing the part where you’re naked in my kitchen.”
“If you’re worried about that you can always give me my shirt back.”
“But then I’ll be naked.”
“I don’t see the problem with that.” Lance skims along the buttons. “This is all wrong. Were you half-asleep when you put it on?”
He’s got that grin going again. God, he’s too sexy for his own good.
“Ha ha.”
“I can fix it for you.” He unfastens the first button and the second, approaching my navel. He parts the sides so my nipples appear and the fabric frames my breasts. “This is so much better.”
I laugh and then moan when he cups them, thumbs teasing the tight peaks. I check the windows behind him, darkness the only thing on the other side.
Lance looks over his shoulder. “Everyone in your neighborhood but us is doing what they’re supposed to at three in the morning: sleeping. It’s just you and me and my stale gummy worms and your subpar candy selection.” He covers my nipples with the shirt, though, and drags a single finge
r along the center of my chest, up my throat and under my chin. Then he touches his lips to mine. He pulls away before I can react. “I like that you’re a little shy, though. I’m not used to that.”
With the number of girls who throw themselves at him, I could see where my not tearing my clothes off the second he looked at me is unusual. Which is kind of sad. My stomach twists at the thought of all of the women he’s been with. I wonder if any of them meant anything, or if they were all just sex. I hope again that I’m not some kind of conquest for him, something to play with and discard. My heart might not be able to take that, because it already feels too involved with this man.
He must read something in my expression, because he skims my cheek with light fingers. “I mean it when I say this is different.”
“Different how?”
He picks up my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “You’re all the good things I didn’t know I was missing.” He presses my palm against his cheek. “And like I told you, I don’t let anyone put their hands on me. Not ever.”
I don’t really understand how that works—how you can have sex with someone and not let them touch you. “Why not?”
“I don’t usually like how it feels.”
It’s a vague answer. And though I wait for a moment, he doesn’t seem inclined to elaborate.
“But I like how this feels a lot.” He moves my hand down his chest, but stops there, rather than guiding me to touch him where I’m sure it would feel the best.
“That’s good, because I really like the way you feel.” I trail my fingertips lower, and his abs contract when I pass his navel. I skim the shaft, then wrap my hand around him, squeezing lightly before I give him a slow stroke.
“Fuck.” His eyes close as his mouth drops. When he opens them again, they’re heavy. He cups my face and sucks my bottom lip between his teeth as I continue to stroke him.
“I want in you again.” His tongue sweeps my mouth. He tastes like artificial strawberries and lime.
When I moan my agreement, he pulls back.
“Here is okay?”
My gaze flickers to the darkness on the other side of the window. “Yes.”
“Want or let?” he asks.
It’s my new favorite question. “Both.” I’ve never been much for adventurous sex, usually sticking to beds and sometimes a couch, but I’ve never been wanted like this before.
Lance drops his hands to the still-fastened buttons on my/his shirt, popping them open. He pushes the sides apart again, revealing my nipples. Light fingers circle them before he bends to kiss and suck. Straightening, he follows the contour of my waist and grips my hips, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter.
He covers my hand stroking his erection with his own. The deep, almost pained groan that leaves him when he tightens his grip makes heat flare low in my belly. His eyes drop from my face to where we’re holding him. He shifts his hips forward.
I suck in a gasp that comes out a moan when he rubs the head of his erection over my clit.
“Does that feel good?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper-sigh.
He hums. “It feels fucking amazing for me.”
He keeps rubbing the head over my clit in slow, easy circles, occasionally sliding down so the head probes low and then moving back up. I squirm and edge forward a little more, wanting what he keeps saying he can’t wait for.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “All the condoms are upstairs.”
For a split second I consider going without, but it’s a bad idea. I don’t even know what this is between us yet. “I guess we should move this upstairs then.”
Lance grunts his agreement. Peeling our hands off his erection, he drapes my arms over his shoulders. “Hold on.”
He lifts me off the counter. I shriek and wrap my arms and legs around him. I can feel him, hard against me. He slides one arm under my butt and nabs the gummies, then carries me out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, to my bed.
CHAPTER 19
ADDICT
LANCE
Addictions run in my family. My mom is addicted to alcohol and violence, at least when she stops taking her medication. My dad is addicted to work and avoidance.
I have a variety of vices I try to keep from becoming addictions. It’s not easy because I don’t moderate well. I go from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye, and bringing me back down or reeling me in is nearly impossible. It’s the worst when I’m drinking.
My new obsession—possibly addiction—is the feel of Poppy. So I’m lying here with her sprawled over my chest—because I’ve rearranged her every time she’s moved away from me and put her back where she belongs—staring at the clock, wondering how long it’s going to be before she wakes up. And whether or not I can reasonably ask for more sex.
It’s nine thirty. I have no idea when her alarm is supposed to go off, or what time her first appointment is. She just said afternoon. Anxiety twists my stomach when I consider the possibility that this isn’t going to happen again with her, that this night is an isolated event, like most of my sexual exploits. Unlike most of my sexual exploits, this time I want it to keep happening. I want desperately to keep her in this bed. I want her hands on me. I want to be inside her. This is a familiar kind of want—but usually I associate it with things that are bad for me.
Poppy doesn’t feel bad for me. She feels good. Which is why I’m almost positive I’m not going to get to hang on to any of this.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer. I don’t know why I can handle her touching me when I’ve never been able to handle anyone before. It’s like she connects to some part of me I didn’t know was there. Her lips are parted, her breathing slow and even. Freckles dot the bridge of her nose. Her hair is damp and curling where her face is pressed against my skin. Poppy’s hair is so screwed—a total tangled mess.
I’m so addicted to her, and I’ve only been inside her a handful of times. I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but my head is full of worry.
An hour later, her alarm goes off. She pushes her face into the side of my neck. Normally I’d cringe away from that kind of closeness, but I can’t get enough of it with Poppy. She mumbles something, but I don’t catch it.
“What was that?”
“No morning.” She crawls over my chest, slapping at the buttons on her alarm.
“I could’ve helped you with that.”
She says something else into the pillow. She’s draped across my body, her perfect, round yoga ass right there, asking to be squeezed.
She wiggles like she’s trying to move and groans.
“Everything okay?” I push her hair back from her face and she turns her head, one eye blinking at me.
“So sore.” She struggles to climb back over my body, so I help put her back where she was. “Muscles hurt that I never knew existed.
“I guess that means no morning sex?” I’m kind of joking, but mostly not.
Her eyes go wide. “Wasn’t that what happened at three in the morning?”
“That was middle of the night sex.”
Poppy eyes the tent in the sheets. She lifts the covers to have a peek. “Wow. You’re serious.”
“I told you I could go all night.”
“I thought that was a bit of an exaggeration meant to feed my ego. Clearly not.”
I kiss her forehead and gather her hand in mine so she drops the covers. “Don’t worry. That’ll disappear eventually.”
She bites her lip and looks up at me. “I have a really great place for it to disappear into.”
It takes me a second to get that she’s being funny. “I thought you were sore.”
“Orgasms are a great analgesic.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I roll over and fit myself between her legs, but she puts her hand over my mouth.
“I refuse to kiss you before you brush your teeth.”
“What about a mint?”
“As long as you
have one for each of us.”
I roll off and root around in my pants pocket for the pack of mints. I pop one in her mouth and one into mine. While I suck on it, I kiss her neck, rolling my hips and nestling my cock in the warm and wet between her legs.
I’m out of my condoms, so we have to use the regular ones. It feels like I’m cutting off the circulation to my dick, but I’ll take it if it means I get to hear and see Poppy come for me again.
Afterward we shower, washing away sex and sweat. Poppy dresses in yoga pants and a T-shirt, then makes coffee while she sets out cereal and milk. She eats one bowl, and I eat the rest of the box.
When she takes our empty bowls to the sink to rinse them, I get panicky over my time with her coming to an end. We don’t have another date set up yet, and this week is going to be busy. I’ll be away starting Wednesday for a couple days. I don’t want to wait until I get back to see her again.
“Can I drive you to work? How many clients do you have? Maybe I can pick you up after if you’re not busy tonight?”
Poppy closes the dishwasher and looks at me. “Um, I’m supposed to have dinner with April tonight.”
“Right. Okay.” I tap on the counter.
“We’ll probably be done by seven, though.”
“Yeah?” The anxious feeling that’s tensing my shoulders eases a bit.
“I could text when we’re done, and if you still want to see me—”
“I’ll still want to see you.”
She gives me a shy smile. “Okay.”
I end up driving her into work because she can catch a ride with April on the way home. I kiss her in the parking lot until she tells me she’s going to be late.
I’m running late for skate practice now too, but nothing seems to matter at the moment. I have a good thing going, and her name is Poppy. I get to see her again. Tonight. I speed back to my house to get my gear, and then book it to the rink.
I finally check my phone as I’m walking into the arena, having turned it off when Tash messaged during dinner last night. My good mood deflates when I see twenty new messages and two voicemails from her. I also have messages from Randy and Miller.
I don’t check any of them before I hit the locker room to change because I don’t want what’s left of my post-Poppy high to disappear.
Pucked Off (The Pucked Series) Page 22
