AREA 51

by Helena Hunting

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 Helena Hunting

  All rights reserved

  Published by Helena Hunting

  Cover art design by Shannon Lumetta

  Cover design by Tracie Douglas-Rabas

  Cover font from Imagex Fonts

  Cover image from Depositphoto.com

  Formatting by CP Smith

  Editing by Jessica Royer Ocken

  Proofing by the Hustlers

  The Pucked Series: Area 51 is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's twisted imagination and are used fictitiously. All references to the NHL are fictitious and that there is no endorsement by the NHL. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  BECASUE THERE WAS JUST TOO MUCH LOVING

  Why didn’t this gem make the cut?

  There were a few significant changes near the end of the story, and with that came the cutting of this scene. Not because I didn’t love it, because I do, but there were already plenty of sexy times, and this one just didn’t fit into the story anymore. This is another one of those silly scenes I loved, so I’m glad I get to share it in an outtake. This scene takes place in Violet’s apartment and the Area 51 debate is in full effect here.

  The Lost Sex Scene:

  Beaver Files

  Alex wants to shower with me, but I need private time; the beave requires some ’scaping. No one should see her in such an unruly state but me. He stands outside the door, knocking every few minutes to see if I’ve changed my mind about needing some help. He’s still in the hall when I come out with my robe on. He looks me up and down wearing his pouty face, then brushes by me to take a shower of his own. I don’t offer to help him out. We have all night to do that.

  While he cleans up, I check the cupboards. I have plenty of snack food, but I only have one box of Kraft mac ‘n’ cheese, which Alex can polish off on his own, so ordering in seems like the better plan. Since my apartment is close to my work, I know of a few restaurants, but I don’t have their phone numbers. Thankfully, Alex’s laptop is on the kitchen table—he brought it along so he could check his email later—I’m not sure when he thinks he’ll have time since I plan to keep him busy with sexing.

  I flip it open and Alex’s email pops up. He has a ridiculous number of unanswered messages. I minimize the screens to get to his desktop, which is rife with folders. I spot one called “BEAVER.”

  I suspect it has nothing to do with the furry animal, and everything to do with porn. I check over my shoulder. For what purpose, I’m not entirely certain. I can hear the water running in the bathroom, and no one else is in my apartment. Maybe I’m awaiting the arrival of the folder-hacking fairy? She hasn’t shown up to reprimand me for what I’m about to do yet, so I click on the folder like the nosy pseudo-hacker I am.

  Inside the main folder are an assload of dated subfolders. The first one I click contains recent pictures of Alex and me making out in public. I smile, then remember his mother has probably seen them on social media by now. Still, I feel better knowing that he, too, has a porn folder of us.

  The next subfolder is called “Beaver Sleuth.” I go ahead and click on that. These aren’t media pictures. They were taken a few years ago when Skye and Sidney decided we needed to go on a family vacation. It was the off-season, so Buck tagged along. He found a group of dickheads to hang out with on the first day, and all they did was hit on me—the dickheads, not Buck. That would’ve been weird. Regardless, it was quite the experience. But that’s neither here nor there. What I want to know is how Alex happened upon copies of these pictures.

  As I browse the folder, I come across one where my butt cheek is hanging out the bottom of my bikini. I was so pissed at Buck for catching me like that, and now Alex has seen it. Not that he hasn’t seen my ass up close and personal many, many times, I just don’t understand why he feels the need to have old pictures of it peeking out for the world to see. He can have the real thing any time he wants.

  I’m so engrossed in checking out my own partially exposed rear end, I don’t hear Alex come out of the bathroom. It’s not until his hard-on is pressed up against my back that I realize two things: I’m creeping on his computer, and I didn’t put real clothes on after my shower—so I’m still naked under my bathrobe.

  “Watcha lookin’ at?”

  He mutters an expletive as he rests his chin on my shoulder. Interestingly, his immediate reaction is to grab my boobs, as though they’re my eyes and he’s trying to prevent me from seeing what’s on the screen.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” he says quickly.

  “So this isn’t a picture of me with my butt hanging out? Did you get this from Buck? What’s he still doing with them anyway, and why in the world would he share them with you?” I try to turn around, but Alex keeps me pinned against the table with the weight of his hips and the monster cock.

  “He didn’t share them with me.”

  I glare at his hands, which are anxiously kneading my breasts. “You have three seconds to start explaining before I kick your ass. And don’t bother telling me I can’t kick your ass. I know that. But I’ll lay a smackdown on the monster cock. I have a feeling he’s the mastermind behind all of this…this…butt porn.” I push my ass out against his monster cock. My boyfriend is such a pervert. Mostly I love it.

  “Back up,” I order.

  Alex complies, and I spin around, crossing my arms over the girls. This is so I look angry, which I am, but also to cover my awesome rack. I don’t want any distractions while he explains why he has ass porn photos of me from well before we met each other.

  “Remember when we first had sex?” he asks.

  I jab a finger into his solid chest. “Don’t try to distract me with sex!”

  “I’m not! I’m not! But you do remember, right? The first time and the second?” His left dimple makes a brief appearance before he smartly schools his expression.

  “Of course I remember.” That night, while not my best in terms of decision making, was amazing. It’s why we’re standing here. And we love each other.

  “So you also remember how you took off without waking me up first and didn’t call me back after I left you messages?”

  Dear God, we aren’t going here again, are we? For a famous guy, Alex has a soft ego.

  “I told you why I didn’t call you back.”

  He takes my jabbing finger in his hand. “Now don’t get mad at me.” The precursor to his coming explanation can’t be good. “I was getting desperate to talk to you. I mean, you’d left your glasses behind. I thought that meant you wanted to see me again, but then you didn’t call back. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. I wanted to see you. I was—you were on my mind constantly.”

  We’ve never talked about what happened after the first beaver-wood intro. “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re this incredibly funny, sexy woman who liked that I was smart and didn’t give a rat’s ass about hockey. How could I not be taken with you? So when you didn’t call me back, I resorted to—” He bites his lip and looks down. “—creeping Buck’s Facebook profile.”

  “You hacked into it?”

  “No. I just creeped it. There’s where I found the pictures.”

  “Wait. What? Those pictures are still on his profile? I told him to take them down two years ago.”

  “I guess he didn’t listen. He really should have. Those pictures are something else. I didn’t know when you’d be at another game, or if
you even wanted to see me again. You told me you loved my cock, so how could I not want to see you again after that?” Alex gets a wistful, faraway look before he continues. “When I saw the picture with your little cheek hanging out, I thought to myself, Self, you’ve already seen that fine ass up close and personal. You’ve held onto it while she rides your cock. You know how soft that skin feels. Is it that wrong for you to keep one picture of Violet’s ass cheek playing peekaboo?” He stops rambling to see how I’m taking his truth vomit.

  “For what purpose would you need a picture like that?”

  “So I have something to look at while I whack off.” He says this like it should be obvious, which I suppose maybe it should.

  “You whack off to the pictures in this folder?” I thumb over my shoulder at the computer. I should be angry, maybe even concerned about how sketchy Alex was at the beginning of our relationship. My beaver, however, is already very interested in the visual of Alex stroking his monster cock.

  Alex, like the massive, horny pervert he is, must sense my sudden arousal, because he moves in a little closer. “Do you want to see my favorites?”

  “I guess?” It’s a question. I’m not one-hundred percent on this.

  Alex adjusts himself through his towel. “I’m sorry I saved them, but only the ones from Buck. The rest I’m not sorry about at all.” He kisses me, all soft-like. “They got me through the weeks when I couldn’t see you, or touch you, or be inside of you.”

  He’s good at the sweet talk. I would formulate a response, but I’m too busy with the mouth-fucking.

  His lips move to my neck, and he turns me to face the computer again. I can feel Alex’s MC nestled against my ass through layers of terry and my robe. He clicks the cursor, opening the subfolder labeled “JACK.” Ironically, I have a folder called “JILL” on my own laptop.

  Inside, Alex has a ridiculous number of pictures of my cleavage. Many of them appear to have come from his cell phone, based on the photo quality. He must sneak a lot of pictures when I’m not paying attention. He’s captured me in the Waters shirt and panties—the ones with WATERS’ ASS stamped on the butt. I remember that occasion well. Alex wouldn’t let me put pants on to watch the movie, and it ended up being a non-issue since I lost the underwear ten minutes into the flick. Just before they disappeared, he snapped a pic—while I was bent over in front of him, apparently.

  “I have a nice ass,” I say snarkily.

  “It’s better than nice,” Alex agrees.

  “It’s still a no-go zone,” I warn.

  “Oh, I know that, baby. Your ass is far too nice to violate with this.” He presses his hips forward so I can feel how hard the MC is.

  He makes it sound so damn dirty. For a moment I entertain the idea that maybe we could—no way. It’ll never happen. Ever. That thing does damage to my cooter if I’m not prepped enough, which has only happened once. I can’t fathom the trauma if he tried to get it into my Area 51.

  My beaver-drooling kicks up a notch at the soft sound of Alex’s towel hitting the floor. We’re so going to do it in my kitchen, likely on my table.

  “This needs to come off, please.” He pulls the tie on my robe and tugs on the sleeves. It pools at my feet on the floor. Alex skims my sides and exhales a soft groan. “This is going to be fucking fantastic.”

  His monster cock slides along my “access denied” crack when he leans against me.

  “Alex!” I protest, but I’m also moaning, so it lacks true conviction.

  “I’m just making some room.” He reaches over me and pushes the laptop to the middle of the table. Once it’s out of the way, he runs a hand up my spine. His palm settles between my shoulder blades. “Lean over please, baby.”

  I do what he asks, even though I’m not sure about what he’s got planned. He backs away so the monster cock is no longer making contact. His hands travel along the outsides of my thighs.

  “What’re you doing?” I crane around to look at him. It’s awkward.

  “Deciding how exactly I want to have you.”

  Alex’s fingers curl around the back of my knee as he lifts my leg up and to the side. My first reaction is to resist. “Relax, Violet. I’m going to take care of you like I always do.”

  This is true. He always takes great care of me. So I stop resisting and rest my cheek against the table.

  “That’s better.” He sets my knee on the wood surface, as though I’m climbing over the edge. The angle should be conducive for excellent penetration, as well as a fantastic view for him. It would seem he’s all about visual stimulation tonight.

  “I’ve wanted to do this since the first night you stayed over. Except I thought we’d be doing it on my kitchen island.” He strokes along the back of my thigh. “This is good, though. Maybe when you finally move in with me, I’ll do you like this again.”

  I shiver at his dark tone. “That sounds like a great idea.”

  “You can move in whenever you want.”

  A moment later, he bites my right ass cheek. I gasp and then moan as he licks from my beaver button to penetration station. After some well-orchestrated teasing, during which I moan like a professional porn star, his thumb brushes my clit, followed by his tongue.

  “You want me to make you come?” he asks.

  Obviously I do, but I still tell him what he wants to hear. “That’d be so awesome.”

  He chuckles against my skin and keeps up with the licking. It’s another endless minute until his fingers find their way inside me. It takes less time than that for me to fall apart, muttering profanities about my love for all his moving appendages.

  I push up on unsteady arms, groping blindly for his erection.

  Alex thwacks me on the ass with his dick. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  My protest over the cock-spank is short-lived. Alex moves into position, and slides on in.

  “I like this table,” I groan as he hits the perfect spot with each thrust.

  “Me, too. I especially like eating you on it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have you for breakfast.”

  My answer is a moan, because I’m totally down with that idea. Sometimes he’s a smooth motherpucker.

  His hands are on my hips as he pulls out slowly and fills me even more slowly. “How’s this? Does it feel good?”

  I love how courteous Alex is as a lover, although I think he also likes to hear me say dirty things during sex. Regardless, I’m happy to give him affirmation for the orgasms he provides in abundance.

  “More.” I want more speed, more friction, more of him.

  “You’re already taking all of me, baby. More what?” He increases the pace a little.

  I arch my back. “More cock.”

  Alex groans, deep and guttural. “That’s just—” Then he fucks me faster and harder, making the table groan with each thrust.

  Damn right, that’s just. The change of angle means he hits that spot inside that makes me see unicorns jumping over rainbows. The porno moans get louder. He’s like a jackrabbit. When I come, it’s hard. I hold onto the edge of the table for dear life. From what I can tell, Alex has lots of stamina left before he throws in the towel. He slows down, though, giving me time to recover from the orgasm roller coaster. When he picks up the pace again, I feel another orgasm tingling my beaver button. My groan must give me away.

  “I’m almost there; wait for me, baby.”

  What? He wants me to wait for him? How the hell do I do that? I squeeze the beaver, hoping it will postpone my orgasm. I don’t have much hope of holding out, though, because I don’t know how to do that in the first place.

  I begin to protest, but my words catch in my throat at the feel of his fingers on either side of his giant cock. More distracting is the finger perilously close to my backdoor. When it comes in contact with my no-go zone, I moan instead of yell at him and involuntarily push back against him. What the hell? That’s not supposed to happen. Alex must take this as a green light. I feel an odd, foreign pressure and then—sweet lord—
I come so hard everything goes white.

  “That is so fucking sexy,” Alex says as he thrusts into me, over and over and over again.

  He hasn’t even come yet, and worse, if he keeps it up, I’m going to come again. And I do, just as he stills.

  Once his body parts are no longer invading mine, I wobble around to face him, working to remain indignant. “You!” I shake an unsteady finger in his face. “No access. Not allowed, and you—”

  “You didn’t like it?” Alex catches me in his arms and sets me on the table.

  “That’s not the point!” So what if I liked it? “I specifically told you that wasn’t a place to be putting your parts.”

  “So you did like it.” He smirks.

  “I hate you.” I smack his chest weakly.

  “You love me.” He wraps me up in him.

  “Whatever.” I will not admit I liked what he just did.

  “I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to. I just thought I’d try…” He kisses my temple, all soft and sweet. “I don’t expect to ever get anything in there other than a finger or maybe two.”

  Damn him.

  “Fine.”

  The Holiday Outtake:

  Christmas Style

  I wrote this piece as a special holiday surprise. It was supposed be about a thousand words, but Alex had a lot to say, and well, Violet engaged in some serious sewing, so I owed it to them to let the scene play out a little longer. Get ready for some Super MC costume changes.

  Coming Down the Chimney!

  ALEX

  I toss my gym bag directly into the laundry room before I head down the hall. I don’t do it because I’m anal; it’s so Violet doesn’t trip over it when she’s leaving for work in the morning. I’m not sure how it happens exactly, because it’s a huge black duffle bag on a tan tile floor, but she’s managed to bruise the crap out of her knees a couple of times and sprain her wrist once.