Pucked Over (Pucked #3)

by Helena Hunting

  “Lily?”

  “The sex didn’t stop being fun—”

  “I’m glad my fucked-up dick is useful.” He sounds so bitter.

  I look up at him. “I love your fucked-up dick.”

  “Not enough to want to ride it any more, though.”

  I’m angry that he’s come all this way and we’re still just talking about the sex. “Your dick isn’t fucked up, and this is about more than sex, Randy!” I shout. I don’t mean to, but this conversation isn’t going in a helpful direction, and now all I can think about is riding his dick.

  A car honks its horn behind us. Randy rolls down the window and gives the person the bird. It’s Benny.

  “We’re sitting at a stop sign.” I point to the red octagon.

  Randy puts on his blinker and turns the corner. He drives around the block before he pulls over in front of my apartment building and puts on his hazards. He strokes his beard, his expression pensive. “I thought I was just gonna be your rebound. I didn’t expect it to turn into something else.”

  I go back to looking at my moose pants. “Look, maybe I should have said something long before I did, but casual sex doesn’t work for me, and you’ve made it clear that’s what you do.”

  Randy frowns. “So you’re not good at casual, and that’s all you thought this was.”

  “Yes.” Finally, I think we’re getting somewhere. I sigh and shove my hands between my knees. “Everything was fine at first when I kind of hate-liked you, and you were eating at the Vagina Emporium in public bathrooms. Then you started taking me out for lunch, and you bought me clothes and joked about me moving to Chicago. Spending time with you over the holidays changed things—it seemed like it changed things for you, too. It started to feel like something else, but you’d told me it wasn’t.”

  Randy stares straight ahead, gripping and releasing the steering wheel. “Was it all the talk about you moving to Chicago?”

  “You joking around about me moving isn’t the issue, Randy.”

  His jaw tics. “I see.” His chin drops to his chest, and he closes his eyes. “What if what we were doing wasn’t just casual?”

  “I think the word casual needs to be banned from the rest of this discussion. Can you please explain what you mean?”

  “So, like, what if we’re doing what we were doing, but with feelings.”

  “Most people call that a relationship, Randy.”

  He bites a nail. He looks like a cornered animal.

  “If you can’t even say the word, it’s not something you’re ready for.”

  “I can say it.”

  “Then do.”

  “Relationship.” He’s still chewing on his thumb, so it comes out all garbled.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. My stupid eyes decide for me and start to water. I hate crying. “I can’t—” I reach for the handle.

  “Wait!” Randy grabs my wrist. It’s the first time he’s touched me since I got in the vehicle. His skin is warm and rough. It’s still electric. My heart aches so badly, and my magic marble is going crazy.

  He licks his lips and swallows hard, eyes darting to me and away. “Look, my whole life everyone’s compared me to my dad. How I look, how I talk, how I act, how good I am at hockey—I’m just like him. And he ruined my mom with all his dicking around. She’s never gotten over it and my sister moved halfway around the world to get away from him. I don’t ever want to do to someone else what he did to them, and to me. I don’t want to put anyone through that.”

  The pain this has caused him is clear in his eyes, in the rigid set of his shoulders, in the tremor in his voice. This man, so confident on the ice and in bed, is floundering in the face of feelings.

  I sweep my thumb across his knuckles. “You don’t have to repeat the same mistakes, Randy. You’re your own person. You control your actions.”

  He says quietly, “I haven’t been with anyone but you since we fooled around in the summer. No one.”

  “No one?” I’m kind of stunned. Okay, I’m a lot stunned.

  “There was that one girl at the bar who kept touching my arm, but all I could think about was you, and then you showed up. I was so relieved and terrified at the same time because I knew I was your rebound. I think I wanted it to be something else even back then; I just didn’t realize it yet. Or I didn’t want to see it.” He exhales a long, slow breath. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when you brought up how things were getting intense, but you said you’d say something if it got to be too much, and you didn’t, and neither did I, and I panicked.”

  “I see that now.”

  “I don’t know if you still have those feelings, or if what I said made them disappear, but I still want you. I mean, I want to be with you—and not just for sex. If this is moving too fast and you need this to not have a label, we can do that.” He pauses, his eyes wide, and then he shakes his head. “That’s not true. I want a label. I want to be in a relationship with you.”

  “A relationship?” I sound like an idiot. I’m still reeling over the fact that we often went more than a month without seeing each other, and he wasn’t screwing bunnies. I mean, of course I’d hoped he wasn’t with bunnies, but I didn’t expect exclusivity, what with it being casual—or not, apparently, on either side.

  “Yeah.” He nods once.

  “You haven’t been with any bunnies since the summer?”

  “Not one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I only wanted you. Sorry, I mean want, present tense.”

  “Wow. You went weeks at a time without pussy.”

  “I jerked off a lot.”

  “I bet.” I glance down at his crotch. He’s definitely got some happy going on down there. He’s still holding my wrist, and his thumb brushes back and forth over the skin, soothing, warming. “So you want to date me?”

  “No, I want you to be my girlfriend.”

  “You’re going for the big-gun label, eh?”

  “Go big or go home, right?” He tugs me toward him. “So? You want to give it a shot?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yes. Definitely.”

  His smile makes my heart all melty. I don’t realize he’s coming in for a kiss until his mouth is almost on mine. I slide a hand between our faces so he gets my knuckles instead of my lips. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

  “I don’t really care.”

  “My mouth tastes like cheese dick.”

  “How do you know what cheese dick tastes like?”

  “You’ve seen Benji. His beard matches his balls.” I’m pretty sure I ruined what’s supposed to be our first official couple kiss by talking about my ex’s ungroomed ball sac.

  Randy pulls a face. “That’s fuckin’ nasty.”

  “Sorry, pretend I didn’t say that.”

  “Too late.”

  He pulls a pack of mints from his pocket, pops one out, and pushes it between my fingers and into my mouth. I chew it a couple of times, rub all the little minty bits over my tongue and swallow. Water would be good, but since I don’t have any, I’ll have to manage. I drop my hand. “’Kay. Ready.”

  Randy gives me that sexy grin that makes my panties want to crawl off my body and into his pocket. Except I’m not wearing any. All my girl parts get tingly as soon as he cups my face in his palms. He smoothes his thumb along the contour of my bottom lip, wiping away a mint crumb. Then he leans in.

  I can’t help myself. I still don’t understand what it is about him, but all I want is to hump all over him the second he starts touching me. I immediately shove my tongue in his mouth and moan. His laugh is muffled by my tongue thrusts.

  Whatever. It’s been a couple of weeks, and I’ve been all mopey and heartbroken. Now I’m sexed up and excited. I have a boyfriend—a hot one, with a badass happy-face dick. I hold on to the back of his neck and stroke him through his jeans.

  He’s hard, and I want to feel that between my legs since now it’s mine. Exclusive
ly. I kick off my floppy slippers and get ready to either straddle him or pull him down. Both will work fine.

  The knock on the window reminds me we’re in a car, and it’s eight in the morning, so there’s no cover of darkness. We’re also parked in front of my apartment building. I separate my face from Randy’s, ready to flip off whoever’s interrupting our make-up make-out session. Except it’s my mom.

  So instead of swearing at her with hand gestures, I roll down the window. “Hey, Mom.”

  She presses her hand against her chest and heaves what appears to be a relieved sigh. “For a second I thought that was Benji.”

  “Uh, no.” I gesture to Randy. “As you can see, definitely not Benji.”

  My mom looks him over as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “No. Definitely not.”

  Randy waves. “Hi.” His face is beet red.

  “Mom, you remember Randy. Randy, you remember my mom, Iris.” Wow. Talk about awkward.

  “Of course I remember Randy. What a nice surprise. You two should go inside. I know the apartment’s a bit of a mess, but it’s cold out.”

  The way she phrases it doesn’t give us much of an option, so Randy cuts the engine, surreptitiously rearranges his hard-on, zips his jacket, and gets out. My mom gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Nice to see you again, Randy. I hope this means we’ll be able to catch up another time.”

  “Where’re you going?” I ask.

  “Work, honey. It’s Monday.”

  “Oh.”

  “You two behave yourselves.” She pats Randy on the arm and leaves us on our own.

  Randy picks up the box I dropped when I chased after his car and tucks it under one arm. I thread my fingers through his.

  He follows me to the elevator. We’re the only two people in it, so I take advantage of the situation by tongue-fucking his mouth again. Randy pulls me against him via my ass, doing what he does best: the clothed humping. We pry ourselves away from each other when the elevator dings. The door slides open, and I take his hand again, dragging him down the hall. I’m all thumbs with the key, struggling to get it in the lock.

  “Let me do that,” he murmurs.

  I let go, and he takes over, sliding the key in the lock and easing the door open. As soon as we’re inside I’m on him again, pulling at his jacket, trying to unzip his pants.

  Randy puts his hands on my shoulders. “Lily.”

  “Winter sucks for layers.”

  He pushes me back. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” I yank his belt free from the clasp.

  He puts his hand over mine, as if that’s going to stop me. “That.”

  I don’t hear anything, so I go with snark. “It’s the sound of my pussy crying for your cock.”

  Randy laughs, then groans as I pop the button and slide my hand inside his boxers, finding him rock hard. “There’s water running.”

  I pause, still holding his dick, and listen intently. “Shit.”

  “Who’s here?”

  “Tim-Tom.

  “Who.”

  “My other boyfriend.”

  Randy’s expression goes dark.

  “Sorry. Sorry, that was a terrible joke. I’ll never, ever say anything like that again. It’s my mom’s boyfriend. I thought he went home last night.” Still holding Randy’s dick, I tiptoe down the hall and peek around the corner. He has no choice but to follow.

  The water’s still running, so we can definitely make it to my room without Tim-Tom knowing we’re in here. I let go of Randy’s man rod and motion to the door across the hall from the bathroom. I tiptoe stealthily, and Randy clomps across the parquet floor with his boots on. It’s smart not to leave evidence of his presence behind, apart from wet boot prints, that is.

  I pull him into my room by his jacket, lock the door, and frantically undress him. “What’re you doing?” he asks.

  “Getting you naked. What does it look like?” Like, duh.

  “Your mom’s boyfriend’s here.”

  “So? They bone while I’m here all the time. We’ll be quiet. If I get loud you can put a hand over my mouth; I kinda like that.”

  He stands there blinking at me like maybe I’ve gone a little crazy, so I pull my sweatshirt and tank top over my head and push my flannel moose pants down over my hips. And voila, I’m naked. It does the trick. Randy shrugs out of his jacket and takes off his hoodie and T-shirt. I shove his pants and underwear down his thighs and drop to my knees.

  “Look at him! He’s so happy to see me, grinning like a fool.”

  Randy laughs and inhales as I trace the scar with a gentle finger.

  I don’t bother with a warm-up. It’s unnecessary and a waste of time. All I want is to lube up his cock and get it inside me. The best way to accomplish that is by slobbering all over it. Or putting as much of it in my mouth as I can and sucking, whichever sounds classier.

  I lick along the shaft and engulf the head. I look up as I take more of him in. Randy’s mouth drops open, and his hands go into my hair. I hold on to his ass, and he cradles my head. I suck as if blow jobs are an Olympic event, and I’m going for the gold medal.

  “Holy fuck, Lily.” Randy puts a hand on the wall to steady himself.

  His knees buckle at my loud slurping noise. Guys are so funny about having their cock in a mouth, and based on Randy’s previous experiences, I’m turning into his blow-job goddess.

  All my hot spots are lighting up like a Vegas slot machine when Randy fists my hair and pulls me off. A string of saliva connects the head to my bottom lip. From my perspective it’s gross, but Randy’s a guy, and for whatever reason, they seem to like all the suction sounds and bodily fluids.

  He bends over me, panting, muscles straining. His cock is inches from my face. He’s still holding the wall with one hand and my hair with the other. I won’t lie. It’s superhot. I may be on my knees, but I’m definitely the one with all the power. I run my hands up his thighs and bite my bottom lip, being coy. I trace the white line across his hip, then sweep a single finger all the way down the shaft, over the smiley scar, to the tip. Randy’s eyes roll up, and he shudders.

  “Are you going to fuck me now?” I’m saccharine sweet about it.

  He pulls me up by my hair and crushes his mouth to mine. Oh, man. This is going to be some serious get-back-together-now-I’m-his-girlfriend sex. He must forget that his pants are still around his ankles, because he stumbles and has to shuffle to the bed. We fall in a heap on the mattress. My comforter is a rumpled mess, and I didn’t even bother to put my suitcase on the floor before I went to bed last night, so I had to sleep on an angle.

  We slither-flop up the bed so half our bodies aren’t hanging off the end. Randy’s heavy on top of me. His cock is nestled in tight between my legs. And of course, he’s already started with the wet-humping.

  At this point I’ve stopped being surprised by how quickly he makes me come. I think it’s just the way we are together. With the next roll of his hips, the head rubs my clit. I dig my nails into his ass and arch. He slips low. The head breaches the Vagina Emporium’s front door.

  Randy breaks the kiss, and we do the stare off. We don’t need actual words to convey the question we’re both silently asking. Is it okay? Can we do this without a condom? He hasn’t had sex with anyone else in a long time.

  “I’m clean.” Randy cringes, embarrassed. It says more than his reassurance. “I’ll get a condom.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You’re sure.” He sinks in a little more.

  “I’ve been on the pill forever.”

  Randy’s hands are on my face. He goes deeper, maybe testing out whether or not I’m serious. I don’t stop him, so he keeps going. His groan is loud and low. “Don’t judge me if I come fast.”

  “As long as I come before you do, we’re good.”

  “No promises.”

  His back expands and contracts with every breath. He’s definitely not in control. His entire body is trembling. I lock my legs ar
ound his hips and skim his cheek with my fingertips. “Hey.”

  His eyes flip up to mine.

  “Be with me.”

  He releases a sharp exhale and starts to move. It’s not some gentle, let’s-make-love bullshit. It’s hip-slamming, bed-creaking, full-out make-up fucking. There’s no way we’re being quiet. I’ll be surprised if we don’t break my bed. Thankfully, I don’t need it in Chicago.

  We can’t kiss because the pounding is too vigorous. All I can do is hold on while he goes ballistic. It’s awesome. I come twice and bite the shit out of his shoulder. We’re rocking the bed so much my suitcase falls to the floor with a loud crash.

  Randy slows down with the knock on my door. “Everything okay in there?” It’s Tim-Tom. I guess he’s out of the shower.

  “It’s fine. I dropped my suitcase!” I call.

  Randy’s face is buried in my neck, and his shoulders are shaking.

  “Need any help?”

  “Nope. I’m good! Thanks, Tim!”

  “Okay. I’m going to work. See ya later.”

  Randy circles his hips, slow and tight, while we wait for Tim to leave, but even after the door closes he doesn’t go back to the vigorous, intense pounding. Instead he stays close and kisses me deep. When he comes, it’s like he’s trying to climb inside my body and stay there forever.

  I run my hand down his back, smiling at the shiver I create. Randy lifts his head from the crook of my neck, eyes soft and warm. “That was a lot of fun.”

  I laugh and touch his lips, brushing over the scar. “It sure was. We should do it again.”

  Epilogue

  Couch Confessions

  LILY

  Three months later

  I drop down on Randy’s couch and throw my legs over his lap, cradling my snack bowl.

  He leans over and peers inside. “What the hell are these? Why’re they red?”

  “They’re ketchup chips.”