Pucked Over (Pucked #3)

by Helena Hunting

  RBBRs: Forehead kisses are the worst.

  She’s referencing a group called the Randy Ballistic Bunny Rejects. Apparently it’s where girls I’ve been with more than once go to swap stories. I stay away from that crap, but I know it exists.

  Below the post are a slew of comments from other girls. I recognize quite a few of their names and faces from their profile pics. It’s messed up how my rejection is like a rite of passage.

  I nab a beer from the fridge, twist off the top, and take a long swig. It’s too nice to sit inside, so I step out on my back deck, put on some tunes, and relax. That lasts three minutes. I’m not good at sitting around for long. I also feel shitty about what happened with Marcie.

  It’s not my fault she romanticized one night, but it never feels good to make a girl cry. I made Lily cry, but that was different, and I think that’s been resolved at this point. I pull up her contact. I messaged her a few days ago and got a response that she was at work. I haven’t heard anything since. Next weekend will be here soon, so I figure it’s a good idea to start a slightly more consistent back and forth. That way I can get a good gauge on whether she’s feeling me or not.

  What ru up to?

  Her message comes less than two minutes later.

  Getting ready 4 wrk. U?

  That’s all she ever seems to do.

  Drinking beer on my back deck.

  The next one comes faster. There’s a frowning emoticon attached to it.

  Rub it in y don’t u.

  I grin as I type the next message.

  I can think of lots of things I’d like to rub on u.

  There’s a longer break, and I worry I’ve pushed too far, too fast. I’m about to send a message telling her I’m joking when the dots appear in my feed.

  ru trying 2 sext me?

  Perfect. This is the exact response I’m looking for.

  Maybe. Do u wanna b sexted?

  I don’t have to wait long for her reply.

  I’m about to teach a class. Not a good time.

  My next message is loaded:

  When do u get off?

  She either misses the innuendo or ignores it.

  10.

  I can wait.

  I’ll sext u then.

  Unfortunately, I drink too many beers and get too much sun, so I end up passed out on my couch much earlier than I intended. I wake up at midnight and message Lily, but I don’t hear back after ten minutes, so I assume she’s already in bed or ignoring me.

  It’s cool, though. I have all week to sext the hell out of her in preparation for the weekend.

  Chapter 6

  Sexting 101

  LILY

  I would like to say I don’t wait for Randy’s sext messages when I get home from work. But that might be a lie. While I’m hanging out in my room… not waiting… I do what I’ve been doing since Randy and I first hooked up: I creep him on social media. It’s not hard to do. His face is all over the place. His pretty, pretty face and his superhot body.

  New ones have surfaced today, including a few of him lounging by a pool in a pair of swim shorts. Even relaxed he has a six pack. There’s also one of him with some slutty bunny sitting in what appears to be a car. Her boobs take up ninety percent of the picture. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but they fill more of the frame than mine would.

  My stomach does this weird drop thing. It’s the same feeling I used to get when Benji flirted with other girls in front of me. He did it on purpose to piss me off. He also used to point out all the girls with better boobs than me at the beach. I tried not to let it get to me, but I was rarely successful.

  Usually we’d end up having a big fight. I’d break up with him, he’d threaten to hook up with some girl, I’d tell him to go ahead, he’d walk away. Sometimes I’d chase him and cry, other times I’d let him go. He’d always apologize eventually, and we’d get back together. I hated the crying part the most. I don’t like to feel weak. Not being with him is so much less stressful.

  This isn’t the same situation at all. I don’t have a claim on Randy; we’re doing whatever we’re doing. He’s been messaging quite a bit, so he seems to have picked up on my decision to give him a try. Casual messing around, I guess. Possibly casual sex, depending on what happens next weekend.

  He finally messages me at midnight. I stare at my phone for a good long while, debating whether I want to respond. Violet made a good point about Randy being a fun rebound. Based on all my internet research/stalking I know what’s going on between us isn’t going to be serious. I think I can handle that. I want to be able to handle it. I’ve been with Benji for seven years so I have no idea if I can handle it. I’m going to try.

  Randy and I have incredible chemistry, and he gives amazing orgasms, but I’m also not interested in being the phone fuck after the bunny fuck. Sloppy seconds are still sloppy, even if they’re virtual.

  When I get back to him the next day, I make a point of linking to one of the pictures of him with the boob girl, so he knows I’m not an idiot. My phone rings right away. My stomach flips and tries to turn itself inside out as I answer the call. “Hi.”

  “Are you stalking me?” The hint of teasing in his voice makes the flippy feeling even worse.

  Shit. Maybe the social media creeping is getting out of hand. I go with nonchalant. “It’s only stalking if I’ve erected a shrine.”

  He chuckles. I wonder what that sound would feel like against my vag. “That chick was one of Lance’s friends.”

  “Who?”

  “One of my teammates. Listen, I need you to take a picture of your room for me.”

  His unexpected explanation and request throws me. “Why?”

  “So I can see your shrine.” I can practically hear his cockiness.

  It’s my turn to laugh. “I can’t. I’m at work.”

  “Take a picture anyway.”

  “What’s the point if you can’t see my shrine?” I bite my knuckle to stop the giggle.

  His voice is low. “So I can see you.”

  Oh my God. Now my girl parts are freaking right out. I made a point of messaging him when I knew I wouldn’t have much time to banter. “I’ll take one before I get on the ice.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. Talk to you soon, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He ends the call and I stand in front of the mirror in my skating outfit. It’s a simple, black, skirted leotard with neutral tights. Nothing spectacular. I hold the camera up high like Sunny does, smile, snap a pic, and hit send without looking at it. I try not to think about the butterfly storm in my stomach. Or the buzz between my thighs.

  I toss my phone in my locker, snap it shut, and hit the ice. I have about fifteen minutes to warm up before my girls arrive. After this morning session, I’ll spend the afternoon working at the coffee shop, then come back to do an evening class at the arena with the older kids.

  Getting next weekend off for the engagement party has been a pain in my ass. I’m working extra shifts at both jobs this week to make up for missing three days. It’s hectic, but it’ll be nice to have a break. I do a few laps around the ice to warm up. The sound guy puts on my music, and I practice the routine I’m working on with the girls today. It’s simple because they’re young, but some of them are so talented. Watching them develop into dancers is as painful as it is inspiring.

  I don’t have time to check my phone again until I get home that night. I’m exhausted, but Randy’s messaged me, so I flop down on my bed and scroll through them.

  The first one is a screen shot of the slutty chick’s selfie with Randy, but he’s pointed out her comment, which I failed to read before because her boobs were my focal point. He rejected her. That makes me feel better than it should.

  The next image is a picture of what’s obviously Randy’s hand down the front of his underpants. It’s the pink pair again, with my lovely warning: TINY DICK INSIDE.

  Did u je
rk it 2 my skating outfit?

  The response is immediate:

  Yes

  I’m sure he’s joking:

  Pervert

  I laugh at his response:

  Yes. I still want a pic of ur room. 2b sure ur not a stalker.

  I take off my sweatshirt so I’m wearing a tank and leggings. I search my closet for anything I have that’s round. I find golf balls, but those aren’t big enough. Eventually I find a set of mismatched tennis balls. I stuff those down my shirt, strike a pose in front of the mirror, and snap a pic from the neck down. I giggle as I press send.

  My phone rings. “Hello?”

  “You’re killing me; you know that, right?”

  His deep voice goes straight to my crotch. I flop down on my mattress. “You like my boob job?”

  “Don’t mess with your boobs. They’re perfect the way they are. Especially when they’re in my mouth.”

  His candor throws me, and all I can do is make a whimpery moaning noise.

  “You remembering what that was like?”

  “No.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “I gotta go. It’s late. I have to work in the morning.”

  “How much do you work?”

  “A lot. I have double shifts this week because of the engagement party.”

  “Well, that sucks.” There’s some rustling in the background and the sound of a door closing. “Where are you staying while you’re in Chicago?”

  “At Alex’s.”

  “You think you can get a night away from the Waters family while you’re here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”

  “’Cause I was thinking maybe we could do dinner or something.”

  “Uh… um…” That sounds a lot like a date. Or maybe it’s Randy’s way of enticing me into getting naked: dinner first, then sexing.

  “Unless you’re all booked up. I know it’s gonna be a busy weekend. It was just a thought.”

  “Can I get back to you on that?”

  “Sure. No worries if you can’t.”

  He’s so easy about it. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad until he speaks again.

  “One way or another I’ll get you alone this weekend, even if I have to lock you in a bathroom.”

  The naked part is implied.

  Chapter 7

  Xbox Lectures

  RANDY

  Miller’s distracted state is allowing me to kick his ass at Xbox. Also, I’m better at the game than he is. Not that he’ll admit that. Either way, the lack of competition is unsatisfying. His phone rings in the middle of a level, and he pauses the game to take the call.

  “Hey, sweets! How was the flight? That’s good. I can’t wait to see you. You think you’ll be at your brother’s in an hour? Cool. I’ll meet you there. Yeah. Yeah. I’m with him now. Oh, yeah?” He gives me a sidelong glance. “Is that right? Okay. I love you, too, Sunny Sunshine.”

  I shut the game off without saving it and make blow job gestures at him.

  “I was beating that level!” He points to the blank screen.

  “I smoked you six times in a row,” I remind him. “It’s not even fun anymore. Besides, I hear you’re leaving soon.” I don’t ask about Lily, though I know she flew in with Sunny. She hasn’t gotten back to me about getting together. I haven’t pushed either. I don’t need to chase girls. If she’s not interested, I’ll leave her alone. I’ll know better tomorrow—unless I get an invite to Waters’ place tonight. I’m not banking on that, though.

  “I think we need to talk about tomorrow night.” Miller settles back against the couch and stretches out an arm.

  I pick up my beer. “The Lily situation is under control. I’ve talked to her since the exhibition game. We’re good.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. What does good mean?”

  “It means we’ve talked. We’ll be fine with each other.” I haven’t been totally up front with Miller about Lily, but then, there isn’t anything I need to share. We’re just talking, and hopefully this weekend we’ll be fucking.

  “Sunny says you’ve been sending her messages all week.”

  “Well, yeah. I’m gonna see her, so I figured it’d be a good idea to make sure we’re cool. And we are. So problem solved. She isn’t going to try to beat me with a hockey stick or ruin any more of my clothes. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” I forgot that girls talk. Of course Lily’s going to say things to Sunny, and she’s going to tell Miller.

  “Randy, man, we talked about this; you can’t screw her around.”

  “I’m not screwing her around. We’re just having fun. She lives in Canada, for Christ’s sake. How often can I see her?”

  He gives me a look. Sunny lives in Canada, too.

  “Yeah, but you guys have a plan. Sunny’s gonna move here, and you’re all serious and shit. That’s not gonna happen with Lily. I’m a rebound. If I think it’s going in a direction it shouldn’t, I’ll back off, okay?”

  Miller scratches the back of his neck. “Just don’t get too comfortable with her if you’re gonna pull the usual routine.”

  “I never get too comfortable.”

  “Yeah.” He looks like he has more to say, but he slaps his thighs instead and stands. “I should get going. I gotta pick up a few things from my place before I head to Waters’. Thanks for the hospitality, Balls.”

  “Anytime you want an ass kicking, you come see me and my Xbox.”

  As soon as he’s gone, I check my phone for messages. Nothing from Lily.

  I message Lance to see what he’s up to. Turns out he’s at a bar, which isn’t unusual. I don’t have anything better to do, so I call a cab and join him.

  ***

  I end up staying over at Lance’s place, thanks to the drinks we consume. He doesn’t bring home bunnies. It’s the first time that’s ever happened that I can recall, although I’ve only known him a few months.

  Lance and I hit the gym in the afternoon in an effort to sweat out the residual booze. I don’t hear from Lily all day, other than one quick text telling me she’s in Chicago and she’ll see me later. Miller keeps sending me pictures of Waters’ mom. She has the most fucked-up hair I’ve ever seen. It’s insane. In the grainy background of a couple shots I can see Lily and Sunny. They’re out of focus, but obviously having fun. If I’d gotten an early invite, Lily and I could’ve found a private place to say hi—naked, with orgasms.

  “You need a haircut, bro,” Lance says on the way home from the gym, breaking me out of my pornish thoughts.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

  “That man-bun bullshit has got to go. It looks like you’ve got a stubby Doberman tail hanging off the back of your head.”

  I laugh. “The ladies like it.”

  “Yeah, well, you look like a douche.”

  On that helpful note, Lance drops me off at my place so I can get ready. He’ll swing back around and pick me up tonight since I’m on the way to Waters’. It’s not a formal event, but we’re supposed to look decent, what with the whole thing being a catered dinner. I put on my favorite Lily-decorated underwear and cover them with black pants and a dress shirt. I’m not dealing with a tie tonight if it’s not mandatory, but I pocket one just in case.

  By six-thirty Lance still hasn’t arrived. He’s much like Miller in this regard, so I’m used to him being late, but tonight I’d like to be on time. Or at least close to on time. I sit on my front porch and drum on the arm of the chair. I’ve already sent him a couple of messages. He assures me he’s on his way, and that Tash is the hold up. I don’t see how that’s possible, as Tash is about as low maintenance as a chick can get. I’ve never seen her in anything other than athletic gear and a ponytail.

  It’s another fifteen minutes before they finally get here. Lance is driving his Hummer. It’s lime green. He likes to make a statement. Tash gets out of the passenger side, and for a second I don’t recognize her. She’s in this slinky black dress—not slutty, just fitted. It
hugs all the incredible curves of her very toned, very fit body. Her hair is wavy and loose. And she’s wearing makeup.

  “Holy shit.”

  She flips me the bird. “Keep your opinions to yourself.” She adjusts her dress and touches her hair. “You can take the front seat. There’s more leg room.”

  I shake my head. “No way. You stay put. There’s lots of room in the back of this asshole ride.”

  I hold out my hand, offering to help her back up. She’s wearing heels. I’m not sure it’s something she does all that often based on the way she grips my arm.

  “You’re smokin’, Tash.” I pat her hand.

  She gives me the evil eye; then a hint of a smile appears. “Thanks, Randy.”

  “You better watch yourself tonight, girl. You’re gonna need all those ninja fighting skills to keep the guys off you.”

  “Get in the damn car, Balls. We’re already late,” Lance calls.

  “Calm your tits, bro. That’s not my fault.”

  “It’s not mine either,” Tash says.

  There’s something in her tone and the way she looks at Lance. A while back Miller asked if I thought something was going on between them. Now I’m starting to wonder if he was on to something. Lance is giving her the eye—and not the angry eye, but the fuck eye.

  I get into the backseat and slide to the middle so I can stick my head between them and be a dick. “So whose fault is it that we’re so late?”

  Tash looks at Lance, a coy smile pulling at her lips.

  He keeps his eyes on the road. “Tash had wardrobe issues.”