I release one of those high-pitched, helium gasps. All I want to do is throw my head back and let go, but I can’t take my eyes off his hand moving in quick, aggressive strokes behind his underwear. Why won’t he shove them down so I can see better? I can’t even manage the words to make that happen.
I notice that scar again. The one on his hip—cutting a straight line along his perfect skin and deep V. His hand shifts, and I get a glimpse of cock head. His fist, his big fist with his long fingers and the gorgeous tattoo that covers the back of his hand, is tight around the base. The head—oh, God—is thick and shiny and slick. And glistening, even though there isn’t much in the way of light to reflect off the wetness seeping from the tip. He’s getting off on getting me off, which is so, so sexy.
I know enough to realize Randy is a rare, special breed of man, which may be part of the reason I keep coming back for more. He abandons the cock stroking. Keeping my panties pulled to the side, he curls his finger and lowers his head. His mouth is on me, and I’m lost, lost, lost… spiraling down and floating up. It’s the most amazing delirium.
As soon as my senses and vision return, he removes my panties and settles one thigh between mine. I’m naked. He’s not. Those stupid boxers are still in the way. He rolls his hips, his erection pressed hard against my stomach. I want all of him between my legs. I want that hot, hard cock pushing inside me.
He’s propped up, basically doing a one-armed plank on a soft mattress. He splays a hand out over my stomach, easing upward and stopping between my breasts. His palm rests below my sternum, and his thumb and index finger spread across my collarbones.
He’s back to looking intense. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He drops to his elbow and bites along my shoulder, his warm, wet tongue on my skin.
I skim his arm, following the contours of muscle over his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier.”
He makes a noise, neither positive nor negative, and finally shifts so he’s between my legs. All his weight settles over me. “All that matters is you came in time.”
“In time for what?” Uneasiness flutters in my stomach. I can’t hold onto it, though. I’m too consumed by the feel of him.
His tongue runs up the side of my neck, and he bites the edge of my jaw. He palms my breast, making a plaintive noise. “In time for me to get inside you.”
His fingers glide through the hair at the nape of my neck, and he cradles my head, kneading the back of my skull. Propping himself up on one arm again, he lifts his head, his breath leaving him in hard, sharp pants.
Dim light filters through the crack in the bathroom door, creating a pale line on the other side of the room. That and a tiny gap in the blinds provides enough illumination for me to see his heavily shadowed face. His jaw clenches, and he swallows thickly.
I place a palm against his cheek and feel the muscles jump under my touch. “Are you okay?”
He turns his face toward my hand. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. I just thought… you weren’t coming, and now you’re here. I really needed you here.”
A terrible, dark feeling takes root, fear pushing its way into my vocal cords, making the words tremble. “Well, I’m here now, so that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I almost—I can’t—” He drops his gaze and bites the fleshy part of my palm. All the blood in my body rushes low as he shifts against me.
The knot in my tummy moves up to my throat. “Randy?”
He brings his other hand back to my sternum and presses the heel down, his thumb sweeping back and forth against the base of my throat. “I need to be inside you right now, Lily.”
The desire seething behind his eyes and the tightness of every muscle in his body makes me want to ask more questions. But I don’t, because something tells me I shouldn’t. We’re keeping things light. “Then that’s where you should be.”
I bring his mouth to mine. The kiss isn’t a soft, slow reunion. It’s desperate and intense. Randy’s tongue sweeps my mouth, and his hips move hard between my legs. His back ripples with a shiver as I push his boxers down. He lifts his hips to help make it happen, and when he settles against me, his cock glides over my clit.
Randy breaks the kiss. His nose brushes mine, his breath washing over my lips. He keeps grinding against me, bare and wet and slick from his mouth and my orgasm. “I just wanna be with you.” His entire body is shaking. “I just wanna be in you.” He keeps rolling his hips. It’s rhythmic and relentless and oh, God I want.
As delirious as I am with need, there’s something in his words, in his expression, in the way he’s aggressive but tender, that makes my skin prickle. I don’t understand what’s happening, but everything is shifting, turning on its axis.
“Then be with me. Be in me.”
I stretch my hand across his lower back and push down to add more friction. On the next roll he goes low, and the head nudges my entrance. He hesitates. It’s understandable. Sex without a condom is a dangerous and slippery slope. It indicates both stupidity and a belief that this is more than two people banging on occasion. I’m concerned it’s becoming more than that for me. Worse is that I want it to.
I’d like to blame my lack of protest on something other than hormones and desire. I’d like to say I tell him we need to stop because it’s obvious something is very wrong and this is a terribly not-smart, bad idea. But I don’t. Because I’m an idiot, lulled into false security by taking the pill.
No protection with someone like Randy is stupid. Idiotic. He’s slept with a legion of women. But in the moment, it feels oh so good. And the look on his face as he eases in a little farther makes it impossible to say no to what’s happening between us.
His mouth drops open, and his brow furrows as pain merges with euphoria. His hands tremble against my cheeks and his eyes roll up. He exhales in a rush, dropping his face to my neck.
“Condom,” he says.
He’s off me in a flash, sweeping the floor for his pants. The sudden loss of his warmth makes me shiver and close my legs. But I don’t argue with his thinking. The rustle of fabric accompanies a few choice words of frustration. He must find what he’s looking for, because there’s a soft thud and the distinct crinkle and tear of a condom wrapper.
A few seconds later he turns back to me, tapping my knees in a request to open for him. I comply, my gaze fixed on his wrapped cock.
“Look at me, Lily.”
“I am.”
“Up here.” He snaps his fingers, then eases between my legs once more.
There’s no slow transition. He pushes inside, his jaw going slack, eyes glazing. He drops his head, soft hair tickling my cheek. I rest my palm on the back of his neck, adjusting to the wonderful fullness. Randy’s lips part on my shoulder, his tongue sweeping along the skin. Warmth is replaced by the hard press of teeth. And then he starts to move.
He angles my hips up off the bed as he grinds into me. He bites harder until I whimper, and then he kisses his way over my neck, all teeth and suction until his mouth is on mine, taking until my breath is almost gone.
It’s hard and fast. He kisses me with frantic need, groaning into my mouth. Sliding his arms under my shoulders he sits back so my ass rests on his thighs. He moves me over him, watching his cock sliding in and out, over and over. I glance down, wanting the same view.
Again I note the thick, pale line traveling all the way to his groin. I have to wonder what kind of surgery he had to acquire that. But then he commandeers my mouth again and begs me to come. I fall into the pool of desire, basking there while he swallows my moans. Randy whispers that he’s going to make me come again and again until it’s the only thing I can do anymore.
Chapter 20
Almost Truths
RANDY
I’m fucking Lily like it’s the last time I’m ever going to have sex. That’s kind of how it feels. I almost thought about going bareback. Okay, not almost. I totally thought about going bareback with her, but then I’d have to explain about blood tests a
nd how I never go bareback with anyone, ever—not even in high school when guys made notoriously bad decisions by saying things like they couldn’t feel anything with a condom.
That’s a load of shit. Guys can feel fine through latex. Does it mute the sensation a bit? Yeah, sure. But that’s not a bad thing considering how fast I’d blow if I wasn’t wearing one. At least when Lily’s involved.
I don’t know what it is about her. I don’t know why I’m so hung up, but I do know there’s still a whole storm of conflict going on inside me over that stupid girl at the bar. I almost told Lily before I got inside her, which probably would have screwed things up—screwed the screwing. I stop worrying about things that didn’t happen and focus on the feel of Lily around me.
She’s moaning my name and clawing at my back and shoulders. She’s about to come. The wave of goosebumps and her increase in volume tell me that. I reach between us and pinch her clit. Lily throws her head back and cries out. If I had a free hand I’d skim the long, smooth line of her throat. But I’m keeping her from falling backward on the bed right now. I want her close.
Threading my fingers into her hair, I grip the satiny strands, forcing her chin down. Her eyes are fluttering up, her low sound of desire pushing me closer to the edge. Her pussy contracts around my cock, so I rub her clit until she covers my hand in a silent request to stop.
I keep one hand fisted in her hair, the other I press against her sternum. I move her over me, harder, faster until the entire universe comes to a screeching halt with the force of my orgasm. It’s like a goddamn hurricane, blasting through my body, blowing me apart.
When I’m done coming, I press my face into her neck. She’s sweaty, but she smells sweet. She pushes her fingers through my hair, over and over.
“Randy? You okay?” she whispers.
I shudder and shake my head instead of nod like I’m supposed to.
“What’s wrong?” She strokes down my back.
I don’t know how to feel about her gentleness. I want it. I like it. I’m not used to it. I hold her tighter. “There was a bunny at the bar.”
Her whole body goes rigid. It’s understandable. I’m still inside her. I don’t know why I feel compelled to disclose this.
“She wanted to come back to my room with me.”
Her reply is quiet, reserved. “You don’t have to tell me.”
It almost sounds like she’s pleading with me not to. But I can’t stop.
“Nothing happened. I turned her down. Then I finally got your messages.” My face is still buried against her neck. “And then you were here, and that’s all I wanted.”
Her voice wavers. “I’m glad I could come, then.”
I lift my head and take her face in my hands. “Me, too.”
I don’t tell her the things I want to: that I haven’t been with anyone else since we messed around at Alex’s cottage. That was months ago, and we didn’t even have sex. I don’t tell her how I think about her all the time and have to stop myself from texting her on a daily basis. Or that for a minute I considered sleeping with that girl in the bar because I was angry she couldn’t make tonight work. And I don’t tell her that my almost-actions have freaked me out because they’re another way I’m like my dad. I don’t say anything about how I want this to be more than just fun, but it can’t be because I’m too much like my father.
One night Lily won’t be there to save me from making the wrong choice, and I’ll do to her what my dad did to my mom. I don’t want to be responsible for wrecking anyone’s life but my own.
So instead I kiss her, grab another condom, and do the thing I’m supposed to. What we’ve agreed on. I keep her up all night, providing endless orgasms.
At five forty-five in the morning, she calls for a ride. She looks exhausted. She has dark circles under her eyes. I’ve left a bunch of hickies on her chest—at least it’s not her neck. I pull on a pair of sweats and a shirt while I watch her dress. Then I decide I want one more quickie. I bend her over the dresser, flip her skirt up, pull her panties down far enough that I can get inside her, and make her come again. Once I’m finished straightening her up, I follow her out into the hall.
“You don’t have to come down with me; I’m okay on my own.”
“I know. I’m not.”
“Oh.” She looks confused, which is understandable since I haven’t explained anything.
In the elevator, I pull her against me and rest my cheek on top of her head. I’m gonna be grumpy later from lack of sleep. I don’t care right now, though.
Once we get to the lobby I walk her to the front doors.
“I thought you said you weren’t coming out,” she says.
I shrug, holding the door open, and follow after her. There’s a small sedan with a guy leaning against the hood. I open the passenger door, toss her bag inside, and usher her in. She looks a little disappointed, until I slide in beside her.
“What’re you doing?”
“Coming along so I can have more time with you.”
“You’re crazy. Aren’t you leaving for Chicago this morning?”
“Not until later. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”
“Don’t you need sleep?”
“I’ll do that on the ride back, and on the plane. C’mere.” I hold an arm out, and she snuggles into me. I pull her onto my lap and stretch out on the backseat.
I know this is a problem. I want to do more than just have sex with her. I want to make the problem worse. “You should move to Chicago.”
She laughs. It’s tired-sounding and only half awake. “Alex bought Sunny a house last week. She’s moving in over the holidays.”
“You should move then, too. Think of all the free orgasms that would come along with that.”
I get another laugh. She snuggles in closer. “I’m orgasmed out right now.”
“I’d be able to dole them out regularly instead of all at once if you lived closer.”
“Sounds nice. I’d still need to find a job, though.”
“I’m happy to make a call. Like I said before, there’s a lot of opportunity in Chicago for skating instructors. You’re amazing on the ice—like, Olympic ability.”
She makes this noise, like a huff.
“It’s true.”
“I almost went to the trials,” she says quietly.
“Almost? What happened?” I hope she’ll tell me more than Miller did.
“It’s an expensive sport, like hockey. My dad stopped paying child support, and the money wasn’t there for training, even with sponsors.”
“Shit, Lily. That’s just—” Losing her chance because of finances seems criminal.
“Shitty?”
“That’s not really a strong enough word. What would it take to get you back in?” I wonder what kind of strings I could pull to make it happen for her.
She laughs and lifts her head. “I’m too old, and I don’t do pairs anymore. It would take years to get back to where I was. Plus there’s still the money.”
“Can’t you get it out of your dad? Where is he? Want me to hunt him down?”
She laughs. It’s breathy and embarrassed now. “You can probably look him up in the hockey rosters. He played for the NHL. My mom was a one-night stand who ended up pregnant. She kept me, and he bailed.”
“What’s his last name?”
“Head. He played for North Carolina for about five years. He was good, but not great—third string. Last time I heard, he was living on an island somewhere, and he’d blown most of his money—hence the lack of payments.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.” I’m angry that her potential was squandered.
“Not everyone gets to live their dream, Randy.” Her eyes are soft when she looks at me. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I have more than a lot of people. We’re almost at the rink. You should kiss me until we get there.”
***
I sleep all the way back to the hotel. I have just enough time to get packed up and meet everyone at the bus.
“Yeah.” I’m not capable of full conversations with words and stuff.
“I can’t wait until Sunny’s in Chicago permanently,” he mumbles.
“Not long now.” I stuff my hands in my pockets, thinking about the conversation with Lily in the car.
“Just a few more weeks. How was your night?”
“It got a lot better when Lily showed up.”
“Definitely a better option than the bunny I took off your hands,” Lance says.
Miller looks at me, his expression stony. “You were gonna bunny fuck?”
I shoot Lance a look. “No. She was persistent and couldn’t take a hint.”
Miller pinches the bridge of his nose. “You need to watch yourself, Balls.”
“I’m not gonna make your life more difficult, Miller. Lily came to get balled. That’s it.”
He takes a couple of deep breaths and runs his hand through his hair, making the short strands stand on end. “It’s not my life I’m worried about. I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” He leaves me standing there and gets on the bus.
I don’t bother to sit next to him since we’ve got lots of room. I take a seat near the front. I try to sleep all the way to the airport, but I can’t. All I can think about is what might’ve happened if Lily hadn’t shown up.
Last night I was just jacked up, but today I know why.
I jam in my earbuds and cue up the thirty second video I made last night when Lily fell asleep on me. Then I set it on repeat.
It’s not only about fun anymore. Not for me anyway.
Chapter 21
The Boot
LILY
The door to my room is locked, and my mom is yelling at me through it. And pounding. If she breaks her hand, I’m not going to feel bad.
Okay, I’ll feel a little bad, but this is ridiculous. I’m an adult. I get to make my own decisions, whether they’re good or bad.
I didn’t tell her I went to see Randy after dress rehearsal last night. The hickies and bite marks decorating my chest gave it away. I didn’t notice them, being extra exhausted from my night of stellar sex, until my mom loudly pointed them out.
Pucked Over (Pucked #3) Page 22
