Forever PUCKED (Pucked #4)

by Helena Hunting

  His hands go to his hips, Superman style. “I don’t see anything wrong with my suit. It’s aerodynamic.”

  It’s aerodynamic all right. Alex is wearing a red Speedo. Through the tight fabric I can see the entire outline of Super MC, including the ridge at the head. We’re not alone. No one can ever be adequately prepared for the Super MC in all his ridge-outlined glory.

  “There’s too much penis going on, Alex. You’ll scare people with that.” There’s so much business. I have no idea how he’s managing to keep himself in there. There will be some kind of wardrobe malfunction before the end of the day.

  Buck appears at the top of the stairs, along with a weebling Logan. His mop of white blond hair and dimpled smile draw my attention away from Alex’s ridiculous spandex atrocity.

  Logan puts his arms out. “Up! Up! Dada!”

  Buck hoists him up and ambles down the stairs. Logan is a tank. He’s definitely going to be a hockey boy, just like his dad.

  “Oh my God. What the hell is that?” I point at Buck’s junk and then look away.

  “Like it, Vi?”

  I thought Alex’s Speedo action was bad, but it’s got nothing on the thing Buck has containing his man unit. Containing is not really the right word. It’s like he tied a pouch around his parts and is calling it a bathing suit.

  “Can the two of you please, for the love of penis, go put on regular bathing suits? We have people coming over who aren’t exposed to your crazy on a regular basis.”

  Sunny comes out of the bathroom with a sigh. She’s pregnant again, and it’s the vomiting stage. She has several more months before the baby wreaks havoc on her vagina, but in the meantime he or she is testing her ability to hold down food.

  “Mama!” Logan pushes away from Buck and waddle-runs over to her on his chubby, unsteady legs. He has two speeds, run and bolt. He attaches himself to Sunny’s leg.

  “Is this some kind of competition?” she asks when she takes in the horror of our husbands.

  “I think they want to know who can embarrass themselves the most in one weekend.”

  “Didn’t you invite those people from across the lake to come over? They won’t want to be our friends if you’re dressed like that.” Sunny motions to their crotches.

  Lily appears at the top of the stairs next, with Randy behind her. She’s all smirky and satisfied looking. Damn her. But then she takes a few steps down, and I’m greeted with the sight of yet another well-endowed man wearing a horribly inappropriate bathing suit.

  Sunny rolls her eyes. “What is this? A penis parade?”

  I start laughing, and then groaning as I hold my tummy. Alex rushes over and puts his hand on my stomach. “Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

  “Other than the fact that I’m probably going to pee myself, I’m fine.”

  He sinks to his knees in front of me and rests his cheek against my tummy. He slides his hands under my bathing suit cover up and lifts it over my belly. “Alex!”

  “I just wanna say hi.” He drops the fabric so he’s hidden under the material. It would look perverse, except for the fact that he’s cooing at my tummy. Or rather, he’s cooing at what’s brewing in my tummy.

  “Hey there, little buddy. I’ll see you in a few months, okay? You be good in there.”

  He pops back out, oblivious to any weird discomfort he’s caused for anyone.

  Phones start chiming with messages from Darren and Charlene. Unfortunately, Lance can’t make it this time.

  Commotion follows as food and towels are gathered. Buck has to run after Logan and wrestle him into his little tiny lifejacket before he gets too close to the beach. Sunny follows behind them, and Randy throws Lily over his shoulder, his hand on her ass as he runs across the beach and down the dock, jumping into the water.

  Alex drops a kiss on my shoulder. “You feeling okay today, baby?”

  “I feel great.” I turn and let him lift me onto the counter. He steps between my legs, his flat stomach bumping my rounded one.

  The first trimester I felt like an exhausted bag of shit. I was never so grateful to be working from home almost all the time now. But sixteen weeks in, I’m starting to show, and I feel fantastic. And my hair looks amazing.

  I’m so happy.

  I’m so in love with this man. And lucky me, he’s equally as in love with me. I feel it in every touch, every glance, every whispered—and groaned—declaration.

  It’s amazing how a poorly thought-out one-night stand can turn into a forever kind of love.

  Because that’s exactly what Alex is: my forever.

  Beaver

  +

  Super MC

  About The Author

  Helena Hunting

  NYT and USA Today bestselling author of The PUCKED Series, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.

  Other Titles By

  Helena Hunting

  PUCKED SERIES

  Pucked (Pucked #1)

  Pucked Up (Pucked #2)

  Pucked Over (Pucked #3)

  THE CLIPPED WINGS SERIES

  Cupcakes and Ink

  Clipped Wings

  Between the Cracks

  Inked Armor

  Cracks in the Armor

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  The Librarian Principle

  Connecting With

  Helena Hunting

  AMAZON

  FACEBOOK

  WEBSITE

  TWITTER

  INSTAGRAM

  FELONY EVER AFTER: 13 Authors = ONE Story EXCERPT

  “You broke into my apartment? How the hell did you get in here?” Verity’s limbs felt weak and wobbly. Her heart thundered in her ears. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and tingles set up shop between her legs. Goddamnit. Why did he have to be so hot?

  He raised an eyebrow. “I climbed the fire escape. You left your window wide open. Anyone could get in here.”

  “Get out!” Verity pointed to the door. “How did you know this was my place?”

  “Bike messengers have ways.” Hudson tossed a large envelope on the coffee table. “I just wanted to drop off the pictures from Friday.”

  “You could have slipped them under the door instead of coming into my apartment.”

  “I couldn’t get in the building,” he said calmly. “I also thought I’d get some clarification on a couple of things.”

  “Leave!” Verity pointed to the door, but she wasn’t very convincing in her assertiveness—even to herself. Her knees finally gave out, and she melted to the floor.

  Hudson pushed to his feet and crossed to where she’d crumpled dramatically. For a few seconds she was at eye level with his crotch. Then he crouched down and settled his elbows on his knees. The silver ball in his mouth popped out between his lips and slid back and forth once before it disappeared back inside. His blue eyes locked onto hers.

  “Are you drunk?”

  She sat up straighter and pushed her chest out until the buttons on her blouse strained. “I’m buzzed.”

  “Why were you out for drinks with your boss? You hate him.”

  “Because I want to know what’s in those damn packages, and because when I picked up one from your main office today, I saw you all cozied up to that cute little blonde.” Martinis were the worst kind of truth serum for Verity.

  “You mean my other girlfriend?” The right side of Hudson’s mouth quirked up.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “You should probably know, that cute little blonde is one of my half-sisters, and she’s thirteen. I was taking her out for lunch.”

  Verity’s mouth opened to fire a snarky response, but the only thing that came was a quiet, cracked, “Oh.” The girl’s age would explain her questionable fashion choices.

  “So back to clarifying…” Hudson cleared his throat. “If she’s my other girlfriend, what are you?”


  Oh shit. It was a trap. She’d baited it herself. Verity folded her legs under her and pushed up, forgetting about the ankle she’d rolled. She yelped and fell forward, face-planting into Hudson’s chest and knocking them both off balance. He landed on his ass, and she landed on top of him. It would have been the perfect position under different circumstances.

  She blew her hair out of her face and struggled to get up. “I’m just the girl you’re stalking.”

  Hudson wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her where she was. “I think you like me stalking you.”

  Verity snorted a very unfeminine snort. “Well, you’re clearly a criminal, so of course you’d think that.”

  “We’re back to that, are we? Don’t you think the stereotype is getting a little old?” The arm around her waist tightened. His eyes dropped from hers and focused on her chest pressed against his. “I don’t know if you know this, but this shirt is pretty much transparent. I can see your bra through it. And that’s a lot of cleavage you’ve got going on there.” He stuck a finger in it to demonstrate. “If I was your boyfriend, I don’t think I’d be all that happy that you wore it to work today. Especially paired with this skirt and knowing what a weirdo your boss is.” Hudson’s hand eased lower to her ass. He gave it a little squeeze.

  “I guess it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then, isn’t it?”

  “Definitely a good thing.” Hudson squeezed harder and shifted under her. “Way better that I’m just stalking your fine ass.”

  They stared at each other for a half-second before Verity yanked off his beanie, shoved her hands into his hat-head hair and plastered her mouth to his.

  LEARN MORE about Felony Ever After

  GOING DOWN by Katherine Stevens

  Cici vs. The Elevator

  The floor was quiet and dark when I packed my bag to go home. I stuck my head in Maggie’s door to say good night, only to find her office empty. It was really unlike her to leave without saying goodbye, maybe she had a hot date. I'd definitely have to get details about that tomorrow. At least one of us should be getting some action. I was starting to bulk up on the right side from all of my self-help sessions. Perhaps when work settled down I’d be able to focus on things like having a relationship, learning how not to murder house plants, and eating less of those frozen dinners that taste like sadness and gym shorts.

  I tapped my foot as I waited not so patiently for the elevator. I should have taken the stairs, but that seemed like too much effort. My stomach was rumbling, as all I’d had to eat was a granola bar and a soda from the vending machine. My workload was daunting when I realized how much Cameron had left undone. The only break I took was to check YouTube. As I feared, “Mime Smackdown” was one of the top videos. I should have had my own channel at this point, with all the internet cameos I’d made. All I wanted was to get some food and curl up on the couch with my cat and my remote. It was quite the glamorous life I'd carved out for myself.

  When the elevator dinged its arrival, I lunged toward the doors, only to stop short at the sight of its current occupant. Oh my. If I had pearls, I’d be clutching them. To describe this being as a man was an egregious slight. He was tall, with light brown hair and eyes such a vivid blue I audibly whimpered. He was wearing a suit that looked like it had been crafted by tiny elves specifically for this body. It looked black at first, but if you looked closer and harder—and I was—it was more of a very dark blue. He probably modeled this suit at some point and the designer told him to just keep the damn thing because there was no hope of ever selling it to the common man now. In fact, the only way this suit could look any better was if it were on my bedroom floor.

  The buzzing sound that started somewhere in the back of my mind moved to the forefront and I realized Mr. Suit God was holding the elevator door open with his Suit God arms, and it was protesting loudly. Something told me if he were touching me with those arms I’d be screaming too.

  “Would you care to join me?” Mr. Suit God said with a slight chuckle. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold this open.”

  Holy crap, Carrington. Get your shit together. Stop violating him with your eyes and talk to him like a human being. Deep breath, aaaaaand…

  “Are you going down on me—with me? Down. Are you going down? To the first floor, I mean. I didn’t mean anything else.”

  Way to get your shit together, Carrington.

  The latest victim of my social ineptness coughed, choked, and sputtered out, “Uh, yes. I’m—I’m headed to the lobby. You?”

  The elevator sounded like it was about to launch itself into the stratosphere and Mr. Suit God was now using his full suit-wearing body to hold open the door. I jumped on (the elevator, not the man, unfortunately) and managed to utter a thank you without tripping over my tongue. I subtly checked out his reflection in the doors and looked away quickly all nine times he caught me staring. He was really quite fetching. Fetching? I think I suffered head trauma earlier and repressed it. Whatever you do, do not open your mouth and speak to this man-god.

  "So," I began, against my better judgment, "do you come here often?"

  I tentatively lifted my hand to my forehead to see if I could actually feel the lobotomy scar. No one with a full brain said things like that.

  "Do I come to this elevator often?" My wet dream incarnate asked, amused. "No, I'm a first timer."

  "A virgin? Luckily you have me to show you the ropes."

  I did not just say that. Please let this elevator plummet through the basement and let the earth swallow me whole.

  As if on cue, the aforementioned elevator jerked, groaned and screeched to a halt. The sudden stop sent me flailing about the cabin, where I landed the most ungraceful right hook across Mr. Suit God’s left jaw.

  That did not just happen.

  He rubbed his jaw, flexing it from side to side. "Speaking as the token virgin here, is that normal?"

  I just punched him in the face. Scratch that. I accidentally asked him to go down on me and then punched him in the face. I will be lucky to leave this elevator not hog tied and tasered by the authorities.

  Hoping to physically hold back the asinine word vomit, I covered my mouth and spoke through my hand. "No! I don't make a habit of hitting handsome men!"

  "Handsome, huh? Well, thank you. I think. Actually I was wondering if this contraption typically stopped between floors. You’ve got one heck of a right arm, by the way." His smile could foster world peace.

  "I know. I’ve been using that arm more than usual lately. I—uh... what was the question again?" I seemed to be having more trouble than usual getting my bearings in an awkward situation. You would think my body would have acclimated to it by now.

  "The elevator. Does it always break down? Hey, are you all right? You look a little pale. You're not claustrophobic or anything, are you?"

  This was not happening. This had to be some kind of barbaric psychological experiment. Is Candid Camera back in syndication? There was no way I could be trapped in this metal box with a deity and no verbal filter. I needed an exit, stat. I would roll Dorothy for her ruby slippers right about now. Crap. He’s looking at me. I wonder how long I've been standing here with my mouth open. Why can't I use my brain for good?

  "Um, no. It's just really warm in here and I haven't eaten much today and I was in an invisible cage match with a mime earlier and this day has been a little overwhelming. But to answer your question, no, the elevator is ancient but typically the only reliable thing in this building."

  He chuckled as I refilled my lungs after that word vomit. “Well, let’s try the emergency phone.” He leaned in to open the tiny door. “Maybe they can at least drop a pizza down to us.”

  His face was much closer to me than it was a moment ago. Being the classy lady that I was, I resisted the urge to lick across his jaw line. He was easy on the eyes. I wondered what Emily Post would say about licking a stranger.

  My reverie was interrupted by my cell mate’s cursing. “I’ve n
ever actually used one of these red phones before, but I think dead air is a bad sign.” He pulled out his cell phone and cursed again. “Shit! I don’t have any bars. What about you?”

  I started digging through my oversized bag in search of my phone. Why didn’t I just put the damn thing in the side pocket like a normal person? Now I’m shoulder deep, fumbling around like an imbecile.

  After an inordinate amount of time, I finally located my phone in the very bottom of my purse. Of course. “Nope,” I sighed. “No signal. I bet this elevator could double as a fallout shelter. They don’t build them like they used to.”

  “No,” he grumbled. “Now they build them to actually work. I’m going to be so late.”

  I slyly checked his left hand for a ring or tell-tale tan line. Nothing. “Oh, are you missing a date with your girlfriend or other partner of a romantic nature?”

  Subtle, Cici. Real subtle.

  “No. No girlfriend…or other partner. I was supposed to meet some friends for a celebratory dinner. I just landed a new job.”

  He lost me at “no girlfriend.” My inner five-year-old was dancing around like the Peanuts’ characters. He probably could have confessed he was late for a ritualistic killing and I would not have heard.

  SUMMARY:

  The plan for Cici Carrington was to steadily climb UP the corporate ladder, and hopefully do so without her skirt tucked into the back of her underpants. Unfortunately, there was no contingency plan for the aftermath of spending a night trapped in an elevator with a suit-wearing Elevator Sex God named Cole Danvers. A one…or two-time dalliance wouldn’t normally throw off the course of someone’s life…unless you find out you have to work together the next day.

  To further complicate matters, Cici’s best friend is also her Human Resources Director. She has to hide her secret from every person she knows. Her only confidant is her one-eyed cat, and his loyalty is tenuous at best. Toss in an accidental mugging, a bungled disguise, secret meetings, and unintentional arson, and Cici’s beautiful, careful plan has fallen by the wayside.