She guzzles her glass of wine and tops it off, staring at the contents while conversation goes on around her. Sunny and Randy get along well, which is a bonus. If I could find some common ground with Lily, we’d be golden. I can tell she wants to escape, but she stays, maybe because she doesn’t want to be rude.
“What is this thing, anyway?” She picks up the orange sculpture from the center of the table. The cape around its neck looks like it’s supposed to be for Superman, except it has the letters MC on it. There are googly eyes and a mustache.
“Let me see that.” Randy holds out his hand, and she passes it over. He flips the cape up and starts laughing so hard he almost falls off his chair. “It’s a superhero dick.”
“I bet a million dollars that’s Violet’s work,” I say.
“What’s the MC stand for?” Randy asks.
“I think that’s what Vi calls Waters’ dick. Monster Cock or something,” I offer. Everyone stops eating. “She does a lot of oversharing.”
Randy snorts. “Waters’ isn’t that hung.”
“That’s what I thought, but he’s got a stash of Magnum XL in his bedroom,” I reply. “Sunny can vouch.”
“No shit. He must be a serious grower.” Randy stabs a green bean and bites it in half.
“I can’t deal with this conversation.” Lily drops her fork on the table and grabs the dick sculpture. She and Sunny decide to take pictures of it all over the cottage.
The two of them are ridiculous, giggling their asses off as they hide the Superhero dick behind pillows, on the fireplace mantel, and in the fridge. It’s the first Lily’s smiled since Randy and I arrived.
When they’re done, Lily and Randy take care of the dishes while Sunny and I go outside to build a campfire. She swats at the back of her neck and scratches under the collar of her shirt.
“You okay? Still itchy?”
“It’s fine. I think it was a mosquito. I’ll put on some bug spray once we get the fire started.”
I wait until we’re away from the cottage before I say anything about our friends still inside. “You should probably warn Lily about Randy.”
“I already did.”
“Yeah, but—”
Sunny puts a hand on my shoulder, rising up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my lips. “They’re adults.”
“Yeah, but she’s probably not going to be making the best decisions, and Randy can be smooth.”
“Like you?”
There’s a difference between me and Randy. He’s a different kind of smooth. He’ll get involved with a bunny until it gets too serious, and then he cuts ties. Completely. I’ve watched him shut girls out like a door in the face. I know why he does it; he doesn’t want to end up doing to someone else what his dad did to his mom. Unfortunately, it means he leaves a trail of discarded, emotionally crippled bunnies in his wake.
We were eleven when Randy’s parents split for good. His dad was mostly farm team with only a couple NHL seasons under his belt. He wasn’t very good about keeping his dick in his pants on the road. Randy’s mom put up with it until she couldn’t anymore. I think Randy’s afraid he’ll follow the same path, so whenever it starts to get too real, he bails.
I’ve always been upfront with bunnies about how things will go down. It’s been about having fun, not getting serious. Until now. Sunny makes me see the value in being vulnerable with someone. Sometimes consistency is better than variety.
Still, her comment hits me right in the chest.
She must read it in my face. Her fingers curl around my chin. “I don’t mean it the way you’re taking it, Miller. Well, in some ways I do. You know what to say and when to say it, and you definitely know what to do and how to do it well, but I never feel like you’re feeding me lines.”
“That’s because I’m not.”
“I know. Lily’s been with Benji for a long time. She hasn’t been happy for a while. I think this week made her realize things aren’t going to get better.” She picks up a stick and twirls it between her fingers. “It’s another reason I didn’t want to flake out on Lily for this trip. Benji’s got some . . . issues. Sometimes he can be mean. Anyways, it might be good for her to have a fling.”
“As long as she gets that that’s all it is.”
“She knows all about you hockey boys.” She grabs my hand and moves toward the forest. “Come on, let’s get some kindling.”
We end up making out in the forest against a tree. Making out turns into moving Sunny’s shorts to the side and taking her from behind. I hang the spent condom from a tree branch when she isn’t looking. Outdoor sex is the fucking bomb. Afterward, Sunny demonstrates her master campfire-building skills. She manages to get a roaring fire going without dousing it in gasoline or lighter fluid.
Once it’s blazing, I go back to the cottage to look for marshmallows and roasting sticks. Campfires aren’t campfires without them. I also want to head off any potential fuckery between Randy and Lily.
I’m too late, though. I find them in the kitchen. Randy has Lily pinned against the counter. Maybe pinned isn’t the right word. Lily is fisting his shirt, and he’s got a hand braced on either side of her. He has one knee between her legs, dry fucking her while they suck face.
I close the screen door harder than I need to. Lily shoves him away and spins around, dunking her hands in the sink. Her back expands and contracts with every heavy breath. Randy wipes his mouth with his sleeve as he glances over his shoulder. “’Sup, Miller? You get a campfire going yet or what?”
“It’s marshmallow time.” I wrangle up a bag from the pantry along with graham crackers. I can’t find a chocolate bar, so I make do with Nutella. “You guys coming, or are you planning to get it on in the kitchen some more first?”
He slips an arm around Lily’s waist and nuzzles her neck. “I’m partial to option two, but I’ll leave the decision to Lily here.”
“We’ll be right out,” she croaks.
Randy chuckles. I shake my head and shut the screen door behind me. For someone with a big hate-on for players—perceived or real—Lily seems intent to hook up with one. I wonder how long it’ll take for her to regret it.
***
I soon discover that Sunny doesn’t eat marshmallows. Gelatin is made from bone marrow, and bone marrow comes from animals, so they’re a no-go. Being a vegan seems like food-deprivation torture.
We stay outside for a few hours, but Sunny’s itchy, even with all the bug spray. Everyone’s drunk by the time we decide to call it a night. Sunny sets Randy up in the room right next to Lily’s. I’d say it’s a bad idea, but based on all the groping going on at the fire, those two’ll get their fuck on regardless of how far apart their rooms are. I hope Sunny’s right and Lily takes it for what it is: a rebound lay.
Sunny’s bedroom is decorated for her. The walls are painted a soft, pale yellow. The comforter is covered in sunflowers. It’s a girly room. It gives me a better understanding of how close Sunny and her brother are.
“I need a shower; my hair smells like campfire,” Sunny says once she closes the door.
I wrap my arms around her from behind and shove my nose in her blond waves. “You smell like toasted marshmallows. I like it.”
“I smell like smoke and bug spray. And I’m itchy.”
“I’ll give you a hand, then, eh?”
She turns around, her grin sloppy and her eyes glassy from all the mojitos. “I love it; my Canadianness is rubbing off on you.”
“I like it when you rub your Canadianness all over me.”
I kiss her. Even her lips taste smoky. Easing my hands down her sides, I squeeze her ass. On the way back up, I pull her shirt over her head. She’s not wearing a bra. I’m about to take full advantage of that fact, until I notice the rash. Streaks of red cover her chest. I move her hair out of the way and note the same rash around the back of her neck, as if it’s followed the line of her bikini.
“Do you have any allergies?”
She looks down and screams, then
brings her hands up to touch her boobs. I grab her wrists before she can make contact.
“Sweets, are you sure that was Virginia Creeper in the forest today?”
Her eyes shoot up to mine, tears already brimming. “Oh my God! I have poison ivy on my boobs?” It’s a question, like she doesn’t want to believe it’s possible.
I can’t lie to her. The evidence is splashed across her chest in a red, blistering rash. It’s even on her poor little nipples.
“Are you itchy anywhere else?” I just hope it hasn’t spread.
“No. I showered as soon as we got back from our walk in the forest.” She goes for the button on my shorts.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking your lightning rod.”
“I think I’d notice if I had poison ivy on my dick, Sunny. Remember I told you I’m immune?”
“What if you’re wrong? Why aren’t I immune?”
I move her hands away, unbutton my pants, and drop my shorts, along with my underwear—to humor her. My balls are almost back to their regular size, and I’ve got a semi. “See? No rash.”
The door bursts open. “Is everything okay? I heard Sunny sc—” Lily stops short. “Holy geez! You weren’t lying.” Her eyes are fixed on my half-mast lightning rod.
Randy’s right behind her. He’s in a pair of boxers, and Lily is wearing his shirt, I realize now. That didn’t take long. I pull the underwear back up, but leave the shorts where they are, wrapped around my ankles, and put my hands up to shield Sunny’s boobs. Randy’s already turned away.
“Nice tightie-whities, Butterson.”
“Nice patch of chest hairs, Ballistic. What are you up to now, three or four? And my underwear is red. Not white.”
“Would you two stop it! What am I going to do, Miller? I have poison ivy on my boobs, and it’s itchy!”
Lily closes the door on Randy and elbows me out of the way. She pulls Sunny into the bathroom and flips on the light. I’d be all over the girl-on-girl action if my girlfriend—I’m calling her that now—wasn’t crying and didn’t have a rash on her boobs. Also, I don’t want to share her. With anyone. Not even her bestie.
Lily sticks her head out. “Get me baking soda, please.”
“You got it.” Baking soda is one of the few things that can take the itch out of poison ivy. I learned that in Boy Scouts.
I hunt down the baking soda in the kitchen while Lily calms Sunny. It takes forever to find it. By the time I get back, the shower is running and Lily is standing in the hall with Randy. They’re close-talking and so absorbed they don’t even notice me ease past them into the bedroom. I rifle through my bag until I find the box of condoms. I toss it to Randy. “I’ve got Sunny from here. You two play safe.” Then I shut the door and lock it.
I make a paste out of the baking soda, and when Sunny gets out of the shower I slather it all over her chest while she lays on the bed and sniffles.
Then I eat her cookie to make her forget about the itch.
It works. Twice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
PORNO CAR WASH PROBLEMS
The distractions worked well enough last night, but they’re not so effective this morning. Overnight the rash has gotten worse.
“What am I going to do? This looks awful!” Sunny gestures to her bare chest.
“It’s not that bad, baby.” I’m sort of lying. It doesn’t look great.
She can tell. “Are you serious? I have to teach yoga in three days. I can’t do that like this!”
“You’ll be wearing a shirt, though. Won’t that cover it?”
“I wear tank tops. It won’t cover this!” She motions to her neck and collarbones.
It wasn’t until Randy knocked on the door and reminded me we had to get a move on that I remembered the charity car wash this afternoon. It’s already eleven forty-five. I need to shower and get dressed, but first I need to calm Sunny down again.
She wouldn’t have sex this morning without a shirt on no matter how much I assured her that I don’t care, and the rash isn’t contagious. She’s self-conscious. Overnight it’s crept up her throat, blossoming into blisters that nearly reach her face.
I feel terrible. If we hadn’t had sex in the forest, she wouldn’t have this problem. The only upside is that I don’t have to make excuses as to why she can’t come to this fundraiser with me. Any other time I’d want her there for bunny cover—and because she’s awesome—but since I want to pick the dude’s brain who’s running it, and it pertains to a venture I’m hoping might eventually include Sunny, the poison ivy is an unfortunate blessing.
“Maybe it’ll clear up by then.”
“In three days? I’m blistering. Do you know what happens to blisters? They turn into scabs. I’m going to be scabby. I’ll be disgusting!”
She has a point. She’s being extreme, though. “You could put makeup on it or something.”
“I don’t wear makeup. Besides, you can’t put makeup on open sores.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to come up with a solution, even if there isn’t one. “Should we take a trip to a medical clinic?”
Her frustration softens. “They can’t do anything about it.” She sighs. “I wanted to come with you to the fundraiser, but I can’t go looking like this.”
“I still think you’re beautiful.” At least where she isn’t covered in poison ivy she’s beautiful. And on the inside.
“I look like I have a disease. Can you imagine if people took pictures and posted them on the Internet? The rumors would be awful. Neither of us needs that.”
While Sunny and I haven’t been out much in public, the few pictures of us from my weekend at her place are now hashtagged with #bunny or #thebarbieandkenofhockey. The recognition that we’re a couple is something, but the nicknames are not my favorite—and not Sunny’s either. Sunny with blisters all over her would probably be tagged with something even worse.
I pull her into a hug. “I shouldn’t have used a log as a bed.”
“You weren’t alone. I’m just as much to blame. It was fun at the time. Nature makes me horny.”
“Me too. Next time we’ll bring blankets.”
“Next time?”
“If you want there to be a next time. Otherwise we can stick to indoor sex.” Talking about sex is making me hard again. “I’m sorry your boobs are itchy.”
“Me, too.”
“I’ll bring back Calamine lotion. I’m glad it wasn’t your cookie.” I kiss the edge of her jaw.
“Oh God. Don’t even say that! We would’ve had matching damaged parts!” She pats my nuts and my semi through my shorts. “I’m so relieved everything’s almost back to normal.”
The left nut is still somewhat swollen, but it’s healing up nice. Sunny keeps patting; we stop talking and start kissing. Clothes come off—except for Sunny’s shirt. We have slow, easy sex on her sunflower comforter. If it weren’t for wanting to keep her in my life in a more permanent way, I’d blow off the fundraiser and my research mission to stay in bed with her all day.
***
Randy knocks on the bedroom door about ten minutes after I give Sunny her second orgasm. “We’re only gonna be gone a couple hours, Miller. Give your girl a break.”
Sunny lifts her head from my chest and smiles. “You should go so you can come back.”
“Good call.”
I throw on a golf shirt and a pair of shorts and fix my messed-up hair. Sunny’s curled up in bed, reading a book for one of the classes she’s taking this fall, by the time I’m ready to go. She wants to get a head start. Sunny’s a different smart—like me. The book part is tedious for her too; the part where we get to put it into action is where we shine. We’re the same in a lot of ways. I kiss her on the forehead and then the lips. She looks sad when I pull away.
“Are you okay?” I tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear.
“Just tired from all the exercise.” She stretches and puts the book down on her stomach, her grin cheeky.
As I stare down at her, a weird, unsettled feeling makes my chest clench. “I don’t have to go if you don’t want me to.”
“It’s for a good cause, so you should definitely go.” It sounds more like what she thinks I want to hear than what she wants to say. “I’m probably going to catch a nap, maybe paint my nails with Lily or something else girly so I can find out what happened last night.”
I’ll be fishing for the same information on the ride to the fundraiser. “You’re a hundred-percent sure?”
“Yup. You go do good things.”
“Okay.” I drop another kiss on her lips, slipping her a little tongue before I head for the door.
“Miller.”
I turn to find her twirling her hair around her finger. “’Sup, sweets?”
She hesitates and then asks, “There won’t be any hooker bunnies, will there?”
I come back to the bed and lie down beside her, stealing the lock of hair from between her fingers. “It’s not gonna be like one of those parties at Lance’s. It’s a fundraiser for breast cancer. I don’t know who all is gonna be there, but people will take pictures. It’s inevitable. This is where that whole trust thing comes in, Sunny. It’s a social event. I’m there to make a donation, and then I’m coming back to you, because you matter. The bunnies don’t. Can you try to keep that in mind when the pictures start rolling in?”
She nods.
“I should put on some hooker-bunny repellent to be safe, shouldn’t I?”
Grabbing her by the ankles, I drag her to the edge of the bed until her legs hang off the end.
“What are you doing?”
I hook my thumbs into the waist of her shorts and pull them down, along with her panties. “Putting on bunny repellent.” I drop to my knees on the floor. Her book is still lying open on her stomach. “I’ll be thinking about you the entire time I’m there. As soon as I get back I’ll rub some of that pink lotion on your poison ivy.”
“’Cause that’s so sexy and all.”
“You don’t think so?” I kiss the spot below her navel. I don’t have time to warm her up.
PUCKED Up Page 25
