Pucked Over (Pucked #3)

by Helena Hunting

  His smile holds anything but humor as he lifts me up and sets me on the dryer. It’s the perfect height. I part my legs and scootch forward so I can feel his hard-on. And he’s definitely hard. Randy leaves wet kisses on my neck as he cuts a path up to my mouth.

  “You’re terrible.”

  “I know. We don’t have to stay here long—like fifteen minutes, and then we can go back to my place where we can play until you have to go back to Canadia.”

  Miller knocks on the door. Or maybe it’s Alex. I don’t care. All I know is Randy’s tongue is in my mouth, looking for something to tangle with.

  “Why’re you wearing pants? They’re so inconvenient,” he complains.

  I laugh into his mouth and wrap my legs around his waist. He’s dry-humping the hell out of me, and the seam of my jeans is hitting the right spot. Like that time in the bathroom at the exhibition game, I get that shimmery feeling—the one where I’m sure if we keep going I’ll probably come. Randy finds his way under my shirt. Tickling along my ribs, he slides his finger under my bra until he reaches my nipple.

  “I seriously need you naked. It’s not even funny.”

  I keep rubbing up on him, grinding harder. I’m whimpering and yanking on his hair. Randy breaks the kiss to look at me. “You’re gonna come aren’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He gives me that smile I used to love-hate and now I just want to suck off his face. With my vagina. “I should be inside you for that.”

  That’s all it takes—and the friction, and the way he pinches my nipple. The orgasm slams into me like a linebacker on crack. It’s a toe-curling, mind-numbing, full-on quiver attack. I try not to make a sound, because there are people on the other side of the door—and if I can hear them they can certainly hear me—but I fail. It’s a high-pitched moan that includes Randy’s name.

  I’m not even close to being over the crest of it when the door bursts open. All my muscles are locked like I’ve been dipped in liquid nitrogen. Randy doesn’t even bother to look at them, his focus is singular: me.

  I bite my lip, a whole-body tremor making my eyes roll up.

  “Oh, wow.” That’s Sunny.

  “Is she—” Charlene starts.

  “Oh, definitely,” Violet interjects. “Check out her toes.”

  The commentary kills the end of the orgasm. I glance over at the three of them gawking at us. Randy seems totally unfazed. In fact, he’s smug as fuck.

  “Um. You should stay there. Both of you.” Sunny holds her hand out to the side. Lance collides with it, and she pushes him back. “All of you.”

  Violet fans herself. “I feel like I just watched porn.”

  “Close the damn door!” I finally croak, collapsing against Randy’s chest.

  He’s laughing. I’m so mortified I could die.

  “Kinda pointless now, don’t ya think?” Violet asks. “Seven minutes in heaven is up, Balls. I hope yours aren’t too blue right now. Either that, or you need a change of pants, and I need a drink.” She turns away. “Alex, baby, can you make me those shots I like? The ones you call panty removers?”

  When I look back, Sunny has her hair twirled around her finger, and she’s brushing it across her lips. Randy helps me off the washing machine. I slide down the front of his body and feel his hard-on against my stomach. I don’t know how he can still be so smirky. He pats my ass as we step out into foyer. Thankfully, most of the crowd has already moved on. It’s only Miller and Sunny. He gives Randy a look, then puts an arm around Sunny’s shoulder and guides her down the hall.

  My face feels like I have the worst sunburn in the world. I’m usually a private person. Private about sex, about my life, about pretty much everything, so knowing all these people heard me in the throes of ecstasy—because that’s exactly what it was—is the pinnacle of embarrassing. Randy picks me up and sets me on a stool at Alex’s breakfast bar, then he hugs me from behind. I don’t know what to think about all this affection. Apparently neither does anyone else, because it’s not me getting weird looks—despite my loud orgasm—it’s Randy. Maybe I’m not alone in thinking this thing between us doesn’t seem totally casual anymore.

  Alex makes us all shooters, which we drink. Then the guys have beers, and Violet offers us cocktails or wine. Since we’ve already been drinking wine, we decide it’s safest to stick with the same thing. I feel a little bad for Lance, since he’s the only one without a girl—not that I’m Randy’s girl or anything. Even if it feels a little like I am.

  Violet mentions her plan to get rid of the guys. There’s some serious protesting, mostly on Randy’s part, but also from Miller. Violet whispers something to Alex, and his eyebrows rise. He slaps his thighs and stands up. “All right, guys, guess we’re going out to watch the game since the girls are watching Magic Mike Two.”

  “It’s XXL,” Violet corrects.

  “I don’t like your friends very much right now,” Randy mutters in my ear.

  “I’ll be here when you get back.” I pat his cheek and get off the stool.

  He gives me a look. “No sleep tonight.”

  “It’s totally overrated.”

  Once they’re gone, we order takeout, change into comfy clothes, and get back to drinking wine.

  A little while later, Violet’s sprawled out on the floor, rubbing her belly after plowing through an entire box of chicken balls. “I hope these digest before Alex gets back, otherwise I might have to backtrack on the blowy tonight.”

  Charlene snorts. “Nothing screams sexy like puking on a dick.”

  “Has that happened to you?” Sunny asks, eyes wide.

  “No. Thank God.” Violet pulls a face. “But it might if my stomach doesn’t settle down soon. You don’t think there was dairy in any of this, do you?”

  “It’s Chinese food. I don’t think they do dairy,” Charlene replies. “You ate too much.”

  “I totally did.” Violet nods.

  “Once I choked on Kale’s hair,” Sunny says. Her nose crinkles. Anything related to her ex-boyfriend, Kale, warrants that reaction.

  Violet props herself up on an elbow. “You mean a ball hair?”

  “Ew. No. I never would have put Kale’s balls in my mouth. They were way too hairy.”

  “So, like, you mean his bush? Didn’t he trim?”

  “No. I’m talking about shaft hair. It got caught in the back of my throat. It was so gross.”

  Talking about Kale makes me think about Benji and his similar lack of grooming in the dick department.

  “Hold the phone.” Violet puts out a hand. “He had shaft hair. Like hair on the shaft of his penis.”

  “Uh-huh.” Sunny nods. “Miller’s so good about maintenance, though. I don’t mind sucking on his balls at all.”

  Violet spits out her wine. “Can we not talk about Buck’s balls?”

  Sunny shrugs. “I’m just saying. It’s nice. And Miller loves blow jobs. He says I’m awesome at them, and he always eats my cookie afterward because he appreciates it so much.”

  Charlene is laughing so hard she’s curled in a ball holding her stomach. Violet looks a little green, but I can’t tell if it’s because she ate too much, she’s had too much to drink, or because Sunny’s talking about blowing Miller. Again.

  “What about you, Lily? You like sucking on Balls’ balls?” Violet’s snickering so much that her wine sloshes over the side of her glass and lands on her boobs. She frowns and rubs at it, then looks up at me expectantly.

  “Uhhh ...”

  “Come on, you don’t have to be shy. We’ve all watched you come,” she adds.

  I guess it’s meant to be encouraging. Mostly it’s embarrassing. There are lots of things I’ve shared with Sunny over the years, but a front-row seat to my orgasm wasn’t one of the things I ever intended to put on the list. I puff out a breath. “Well… uh, I’ve never given him a blow job.”

  Everyone goes silent. I lift my eyes from my glass to find them all staring at me. I gulp my wine.

  �
�How have you managed to get away with that?” Charlene asks.

  “It’s not like I haven’t offered, he just… I don’t know… Maybe it’s not his thing?” I have no idea what to say to this.

  “Not his thing? Every guy likes blow jobs.” Violet seems mystified.

  Charlene and Sunny both nod in agreement.

  I lift one shoulder and then down the remaining contents of my glass. I jump up off the couch. “I need more wine. Anyone else need more wine?”

  “We need to talk about this,” Violet says.

  “I think we all need more wine,” Charlene says. “Especially if Violet thinks we need to talk blow jobs.” Charlene puts a hand on Sunny’s. “I’m sorry for the things you’re about to hear. I know they pertain to your brother, and it’s probably going to be disturbing. I have the name of a great therapist if you happen to need one later.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Alex and I are close, and Violet does this every time we hang out. I’m used to it.”

  Charlene gives Sunny another sympathetic hand pat and sits back in her chair, her eyebrows raised in my direction. “So, like, do you mean he hasn’t come in your mouth? Is he more of a pearl necklace kind of guy?”

  Sunny raises her hand. I think it’s an unconscious reaction. “Um. What do necklaces have to do with blow jobs?”

  I’m grateful she asks the question, as I don’t have the guts to.

  Violet looks from me to Sunny and back again. Then she glances at Charlene. “You know what a pearl necklace is, right?”

  Charlene rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

  “Just checking.” Her gaze flips back to me. “Are you two telling me you’re unfamiliar with pearl necklaces?”

  Sunny and I nod. I feel like we’ve been missing out on a lot over these important, formative years when sexual knowledge and discovery peak. Sunny’s clearly rectifying that now. So it’s just me, all by myself, with my casual-sex hockey friend who apparently doesn’t like blow jobs. Which I now suspect is weird, along with some of his other sexual quirks—like lights off and covers on. Why does he want to cover up all that hotness, anyway?

  Violet grins. It’s a horrible, devious smile on her beautiful, evil face. She twists her ponytail around her hand. “You get the guy’s jizz all over your chest and throat.”

  I must make a face.

  “Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Alex gets so excited when I let him come on my boobs. Then he goes down on me; it’s awesome. And sometimes I’m too sore to deal with the monster cock. Also, jizz tastes awful, so letting him come all over my chest is a decent option.”

  Sunny’s horror is understandable. I can’t blame her. That’s a lot of information about Alex she didn’t need.

  “So I’m guessing Balls isn’t a pearl necklace kind of guy. Hmm. Maybe he thinks he’ll choke you with his dick if the rumors are true.” At my lack of confirmation or denial, she continues. “Based on his issue after your make-out session, I’m guessing it is.” She taps her lips with a sparkly finger. “It’s considerate, if you think about it—the not wanting you to choke on his dick part.”

  I shrug. “But you don’t think it’s normal for a guy not to want a blow job if it’s offered?”

  I’m met with more silence and stares. Violet pulls out her phone and starts typing.

  “What are you doing?” Charlene asks.

  “Calling Alex.”

  “What? Why?” I rush to stop her, but she rolls over the back of the couch. It’d be graceful if she didn’t land on her ass.

  She pops back up, grinning. “Hey, baby!”

  She has him on video, so we can all hear and see him. “Are you drunk?” he asks.

  “You bet your Super MC I am. When you guys get back from your fun night, my beaver’s gonna devour your wood, like whoa.”

  “I don’t think my sister needs to know that.”

  “She doesn’t care. Anyway, I have a question.”

  “Fire away.”

  “Do you like blow jobs?”

  “Uhhh…”

  “It’s not a trick question. Answer yes or no. Do you like blow jobs?”

  “Of course I like blow jobs.”

  “Great. Thanks. Give the phone to Buck.”

  “But—”

  “Do it and I’ll lollipop your dick later.”

  There’s some chatter in the background, then Buck’s face appears on the screen. “Buck. Quick question. Do you like blow jobs?”

  “Fuck, yeah. Sunny’s mouth is the best.” There’s a loud noise. “Fuck! Waters, get off me!”

  “Put Lance on the phone.”

  There’s some more clattering and loud noise before the phone is finally passed to Lance. Violet has to calm Alex down by pointing out he’s a hypocrite to get mad at Miller for liking BJs.

  Lance’s strawberry-blond hair pops into view. “You don’t even need to repeat the question. The answer is definitely yes. I’d give up pizza for the rest of my life if I could get a daily blow job.”

  “Good luck finding a mail-order bride to fulfill that dream. Put Darren on the phone.”

  Darren shows up next. Violet asks the same question. Darren’s wearing that dark, secret smile again. “Charlene can answer that.”

  “Awesome. We already know you love to pearl-necklace my bestie.”

  I glance at Charlene, who’s blushing. “What is it about the quiet ones?”

  “You have no idea,” she says with a similar devious grin.

  Violet rolls her eyes. “Pass the phone to Balls, Mr. Grey.”

  There’s a round of snickers. I don’t even want to know if that’s a joke. I step out of view so Randy can’t see me, but I can still see him.

  “Balls.” Violet punctuates his name with a single hip thrust. “Do you like blow jobs?”

  His hand comes up to run through his hair, his forearm and biceps flexing. “They’re all right, I guess.”

  “They’re all right? All right? Are you telling me that having a woman’s lips wrapped around your cock while you fuck her mouth doesn’t do it for you?”

  Randy goes sideways for a second before Alex’s face appears on the screen. “Violet, baby, you can’t say things like that to other guys. Ever. Not ever. ’Kay?”

  We hear Buck laughing in the background.

  “Is this about your Frankenweiner, Ballistic?” That sounds like Lance.

  “Shut the fuck up, man!” There’s a loud crash. “That’s under the damn cone.”

  “Hey! You’re gonna get us kicked out!” Alex yells. His face reappears. “I gotta go. Ballistic and Romero are about to rip each other’s heads off. See you in a bit, babe.” The screen goes blank, and everyone looks to me.

  Violet raises a brow. “Frankenweiner?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Well, you’ve seen his dick, right? Does it look normal? Is it massive like Alex’s? I mean, he’s monstrous.” She hold up her arm and points to her wrist. “Thicker than this, that’s for sure.”

  “Violet.” Charlene kicks her.

  “What?”

  “Sunny’s here.”

  “What does that matter? I’m sure she’s accidentally seen his junk at some point. I mean, I know what Buck’s looks like, even though I don’t want to.” Violet’s drunk. She gets louder as she gains momentum. “Besides, didn’t you go into Alex’s room and steal his condom stash, Sunny? You gotta know he’s packing a massive cannon—not to mention all the years he spent in spandex.”

  Sunny just shrugs.

  “Anyway, it’s not Alex’s dick that matters; it’s Randy’s. Back to that. So, what’s so Franken-y about it?”

  They’re staring at me intently. “I-I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? Is the head a weird shape? Oh my God! Does Randy have a dick piercing?”

  “He doesn’t have a dick piercing.” I would’ve felt that.

  “Too bad. I’ve heard those are awesome. So what’s the deal?” She gestures for
me to continue.

  I shrug. “I’ve never seen it.”

  I get three blank looks in response.

  “It’s always dark.”

  “Dark? Really? Huh. But you’ve, like, held it, right?”

  “Well, yeah, of course.”

  “So did it have nodules or a serious curve?”

  “Nodules?”

  “You know, like the nuts and bolts that stick out of Frankenstein’s head—that kind of thing.”

  “There aren’t any nodules. He’s definitely circumcised, though.”

  “Hmm.” Violet taps her lips. “Too bad about the foreskin; it’s super fun to play with. Sunny, you should text Buck.”

  “Why?”

  “Because him and Balls have known each other forever. Buck has to know what this is about.”

  “Why do you care?” Sunny asks. “Maybe it’s personal. Maybe Randy’s sensitive about it.”

  “He’s a guy. How sensitive can he be?”

  “Some of them are very.” Sunny doesn’t immediately pull out her phone.

  Violet looks around the room, seeking support. “Seriously? I can’t be the only one who’s curious about this. Here you’ve got this smoking-hot hockey player, a legend in the bunnysphere—sorry, Lily, but it’s true—and Lily’s his fuck buddy, and she hasn’t even seen his dick. She hasn’t wrapped her lips around it and gagged a little when he gets excited and goes too deep.”

  “We’re not fuck buddies.”

  “You’re boning him, yes?”

  “Well, yeah—”

  “Your beaver eats his wood?” At my silence she waves her hand around her crotch. “Less than three seconds after you walked through the door, he pulled you into my laundry room and did some magic voodoo to make you come fully clothed.”

  “We’re just having fun,” I say lamely.

  “So you’re banging, but you’re not dating.”

  “Yes. No. But we… I—”

  “That’s the twenty-first-century definition of a fuck buddy. Don’t feel bad about it. It doesn’t make you slutty. I mean, shit, you spent seven years dating that Benji douche. You deserve a fuck buddy, or seven.” She thumbs over her shoulder to Charlene. “If anyone’s slutty, it’s this one. She had three FBs going at once our last year of college.”

  Charlene shrugs. “It was a phase. I’m way past that now.”