Pucks & Penalties: Pucked Series Deleted Scenes and Outtakes Version 2.0 (The Pucked Series)

by Helena Hunting

  When she turns her head to the side I sit back and find the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Brushing her hair out of the way, I press a kiss to the nape of her neck. Her hair smells like the girly shampoo she uses, and her skin is salty and warm. I make a slow path down her spine with my lips, appreciating the soft hum I get in response on the way back up. Lily lifts her hips, pushing her ass against my erection.

  “Randy?”

  I make a noise rather than respond with words.

  “Let me up.”

  “What?” For a second I think she’s not interested in getting her fuck on with me.

  “I want to turn over.”

  I exhale a relieved breath. Turning over I can handle. I prefer being able to see her face anyway. I push up on my arms, and she slithers out from under me in a rush. Maybe I was right about her lack of interest after all.

  Except she unbuttons her pants, shimmying them down over her hips, along with her panties.

  Or maybe I’m moving too slow.

  Lily is naked.

  Lily is perfect.

  Lily is everything I want.

  And she’s right in front of me, yet all I can do is stare because I have no idea what the rest of this week is going to look like. I’m really fucking terrified that tonight is going to be the last night I get to be with her before she finds out I’m defective.

  She slides her palms under my shirt, so I raise my arms to make it easier for her to take it off. Once I’m shirtless she runs her hands over my chest and circles my nipples. I groan, because the ache in my balls is back. Then she follows with her mouth. Jesus. I’m so fucking horny and stressed right now. There’s too much going on in my head for me to be able to enjoy this the way I should.

  All of a sudden I feel the soft brush of her fingers over the head of my cock. “Can I take these off?” She tugs on the waistband of my jeans. I let her, because the end result—getting naked—is what I’ve been waiting for, but when I try to pull her down to the mattress, she straddles me and pushes on my chest.

  Lily isn’t usually the aggressor.

  “Randy?” Her voice is soft and breathless as her lips touch mine.

  “Hmm?” I skim the gentle curve of her hip.

  “I want your cock in my mouth.”

  There are things that happen that change a person’s world. I’m pretty sure, looking back, this might be the moment I actually start to recognize that I have feelings for Lily extending far beyond what happens in my pants. And not because of the way she chooses to tell me she wants to blow me, but because of what follows that simple, yet powerful declaration.

  Before we take this any further, I think it’s important to go back in time for a few moments, to truly understand why it’s so damn difficult to accept that Lily wants to wrap those gorgeous, luscious lips of hers around my cock.

  My first—and last—failed attempt at getting a blow job happened when I was eighteen. That may seem old, but considering what I’d been through as a kid, and the fucked-up state of my dick, it hadn’t seemed reasonable for me to test out the joys of the BJ before then. Up until I was drafted to the farm team, Miller and I had mostly hung out and watched highlights after games. He’d been getting tons of action from his tutors for a couple of years. My situation was a little different.

  Sure, I whacked off all the time like normal guys my age, but I was highly aware that it took me a shitton longer to reach the end than it seemed to take others, even with all the practice I got. Everything worked, I just wasn’t sure how well, and the few times I’d gotten handies from girls at parties in high school, it had been in the dark, fumbling around, and I’d always helped them out so I could finish. Sex was different. Even with a condom, all that hot and tight and wet made coming a lot easier. Also, naked girl and those soft noises—or loud ones—they made when they were getting close also helped.

  I’d watched enough crappy porn to more than understand the allure of the blow job. Violet’s graphic description of the act accurately depicts the exact reason why guys want to put their dick in a mouth. By that point I’d eaten out a couple of girls before we got down to the real business, too, so I got the allure of that. Having some girl writhing around underneath me, grabbing my hair and grinding herself on my face while I tongue-fucked her, was definitely hot. Plus I have a lot of dick, so I don’t want to just get in there without any prep.

  Anyway, on the night in question. I’d just finished doing that. The girl I was with—we’ll call her Jezebel, even though that wasn’t her name—had just come on a super-loud moan, thanks to my superior tongue skills. I’d already gotten a condom out and was ready to turn off the lights, drop my boxers, and roll that baby on. We’d been out a bunch of times, but it wasn’t serious or anything, just a continual hook up.

  However, apparently this time she wanted to return the favor. I hit the lights before she straddled my legs and yanked my boxers down.

  My eyes were already adjusting to the dark, so I could just make out the vague contours of her face. She was pretty with a nice body and she liked to fuck, so those were all pluses for me, at the time.

  Then she engulfed the head. When she tried to take more, it was like an out of body experience. It was fucking awesome. Until the moment she stopped, shifted over and hit the light on the nightstand. Before I could think to react she was already heading back down.

  And then she screamed. There is nothing that deflates a dick quicker than a girl’s terrified scream, followed by the phrase, “What the fuck is wrong with your penis?”

  There wasn’t much of an opportunity to explain as she rushed around the room, grabbing her clothes and yelling about horror movies. It was dramatic. And obviously scarring, for both of us.

  The rumors that followed sucked worse than the actual event, because they were blown way out of proportion. She tried to contact me a couple of years later to apologize, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it.

  After that I became incredibly proficient at mood lighting—and at getting the dick wrapped and where it was supposed to be before any girl had a chance to attempt to blow me. And on the occasions when an offer would come my way, all I had to do was think about the look on that girl’s face and the way she couldn’t get away from me fast enough to reconsider giving it another shot.

  And now here’s Lily, all sweet and gorgeous and unassuming, saying things to me that make me want to take her home and keep her forever. Which isn’t possible. But we all have dreams.

  “You don’t need to do that,” I tell Lily.

  She bites her lip, looking uncertain. “I know, but I want to.”

  I’m prepared with one of my stock excuses. “It’s really not nec—“

  “Please.”

  It’s not just the way she says it, but the way she’s looking at me—like if I say no it’ll crush her—that makes me question exactly what I’ve been doing with her this entire time.

  I glance over at the thin beam of light shining through the crack at the bathroom door. It’s not dark enough in here to mask my problem. She must take my lack of response as an affirmative, because she starts kissing a slow trail down my stomach. When she reaches the waistband of my boxers, she stops and lifts her gaze. Eyes locked on mine, she presses a warm, wet kiss to the scar on my hip.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I say.

  She pushes my boxers down farther. “You think me sucking you off is a bad idea?”

  Motherfuck.

  When she says it like that, looking the way she does, with her face so close to where she’s willing to put her mouth, it’s hard to remember why this is such a terrible idea.

  She doesn’t yank off my boxers and start screaming, instead she runs the end of her nose along my erection through the cotton barrier. When she reaches the head, she peeks up at me and covers the fabric with her sweet mouth, sucking me through the barrier.

  I ball my hands into fists and try to find the will to stop her, but I don’t want to. Not yet. She repeat
s the same series of movements: the soft sucking through cotton, the brush of her nose and cheek along the shaft.

  Next I feel the warm, gentle sweep of her fingers when she slips them into the pocket at the front of my underwear. At the same time, she pushes the waistband down and kisses the scar on my abdomen.

  “Lily.” I reach out, second-guessing how far I’m willing to let her take this.

  She grabs my hand and bites my knuckle before she kisses it. Then she licks my index finger and sucks it into her mouth. Her cheeks hollow out, and she makes that popping sound. She lays her cheek against my erection and looks up at me with soft, pleading eyes. “Please, Randy.”

  No one has ever begged to give me a blow job. No woman has ever looked at me the way she is right now, asking to give me something instead of looking to take.

  I want this. I want her mouth. Not just because of the blow job—which I’m clearly interested in—but because I want her to want me regardless of whether I’m defective.

  I slip a thumb into her mouth, and she swirls her tongue around it, showing me exactly what she plans to do to me. She pushes my boxers down until the head peeks out. Lily keeps her eyes on mine as she kisses the tip.

  Her lips are so soft. I’m pretty sure my longevity will take a shot if she blows me, and I’m mostly okay with that. Then Lily engulfs the entire head and does an around-the-world with her tongue, adding some suction. It feels incredible. Like, out of this world.

  I must make some kind of noise or say something, because she pops off and asks, “Is that okay?”

  I nod, mostly because I’m worried if I use real words they’re going to come out high-pitched and pre-pubescent sounding.

  “I can do it again?” she asks, her lips sweeping the head as she speaks.

  “Yeah. That’d be great.”

  She repeats the same lick, swirl, suck pattern a bunch of times before she tugs on my boxers. “I can take these off now?”

  Only the head is exposed. If she takes my boxers off, she’s going to see the mess under there. She nuzzles me and kisses the head again. She doesn’t wait for a response, maybe because she knows I can’t give her one.

  “Eyes on me,” she whispers.

  She holds my gaze as she pulls my boxers down and keeps her lips on my skin. Eventually she has to look away, and when she does, I can see the moment she notices how prominent the scar is that runs from my right hip to my groin.

  She looks up again and starts kissing her way across the scar. When her chin hits my cock, her gaze shifts down. I wait for her to push away, to have some kind of disgusted reaction to what she’s seeing, because there’s nothing hiding what’s going on.

  Instead she presses her lips to the heavy scar. “Does that feel okay?”

  “Yeah.” I say, hands still balled into fists.

  Lily licks up the shaft, over the scars and back down again, slow and soft.

  She keeps stroking me with her tongue, like she’s eating her favorite kind of ice cream and doesn’t want to stop. When she takes the head in her mouth and keeps going until it hits the back of her throat, I shove my hands in her hair.

  It’s exactly the image I had in my head earlier today. Except it’s real.

  “Okay?” Lily asks in a voice muffled by my cock in her mouth.

  I stroke her cheek. “So fucking good.”

  I need to find a way to get Lily to move to Chicago, because this is a woman I don’t want to be without.

  Forever Pucked Deleted Scene

  The Perfect Place for Buddy

  “MAYBE WE SHOULD just elope.” I’m not sure if it sounds like I’m kidding or not.

  Violet lifts her head, her eyes wide. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I tuck strands of wet hair behind her ear and trace the line of her jaw. “I don’t have to be.”

  “I don’t have a dress.”

  I follow the contour of her bottom lip with my thumb. Jesus, I love this woman. “We can buy you one.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “As serious as you are about keeping me out of your Area 51.”

  Violet sits up. She’s wearing a hotel robe. It gapes in the front and most of her right boob falls out. “I’m only mostly serious about that.”

  “What? You mean you’d let me in there?” I sit up, too, and stick my hand in the gap in her robe, palming a breast, ready to make all of my fantasies come true.

  “Hold on there, trigger.” Violet puts a hand on my face and pushes me back down. “I don’t mean with the Super MC. He’s huge. And there’s special lube and stuff for that, which we don’t have. I mean maybe we can use some more fingers, or, like, a toy—eventually.”

  “That’d be a great place to put Buddy…” That’s exactly where I’d like to see that fucking dildo go. I would derive so much satisfaction, in so many ways, from watching that stupid beaver face disappear inside her ass.

  “Wow. You’re totally serious about that. I honestly don’t understand the fascination with trying to get something that big into a hole that small.” She pokes my hard-on.

  “That is the fascination, Violet.”

  “You know, I’ve done some reading recently about this.”

  “Oh, really?” I lean against the headboard. “And what did you discover?”

  “You’re the one with the prostate gland, not me. So if anyone should be putting things where the sun don’t shine, it should me giving you a dose of Buddy, not the other way around.” She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a brow.

  “Uh, yeah, that’s not going to happen. Ever, Violet.”

  She shrugs. “That’s fine. But if you won’t let me try it on you, then you don’t get to try it on me.”

  “Okay.”

  “That’s it? Okay? You’re not going to argue over this?”

  “Baby, c’mere.” I pat my lap.

  Violet doesn’t straddle me, but she sits on my hard-on, so that’s okay. I tilt her chin up. “Do you remember what I said to you the first night we met?”

  “Am I looking at her beaver?”

  I smile. “Later. When we were in my suite, and we ended up in the bedroom.”

  “It isn’t that big—which is lie, because it really is that big.” She shifts so her ass rubs against my still-growing dick.

  “No. I mean just before that.”

  She bites her lip and thinks for a few seconds, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. “Oh!” Her smile is soft, shy almost. “That we didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. But you had to know at that point I was going to give it up for you.”

  “Well, I hoped, but it was never an expectation. I mean, fuck—I really wanted to get you naked and get all up in there, but I would’ve been perfectly fine with some slip ‘n’ slide or the blow job. The sex was—” I close my eyes, remembering exactly how being inside Violet for the first time felt. So tight, so hot, so… “—much more than I probably deserved at the time.”

  “I was pretty nervous.”

  “I was, too. I’m not really a one-night-stand guy.”

  Her smile is warm. “You got attached to my beaver rather quickly.”

  “Mmm.” I sweep her hair over her shoulders and push the robe down with it. “And the rest of you.”

  I slip an around her waist and pull her closer so I can kiss her. “What I’m trying to say, Violet, amidst all these distractions, is that I will only take from you what you offer me willingly, and only if it’s going to make you feel good. And that goes for everything.”

  “I love you. But all your sweet-talking still isn’t going to get the Super MC Area 51 access.”

  Chapter One

  DESIGNS

  LILY

  RANDY’S ON THE couch stroking Wiener. Not his wiener, but the wiener we’re dog-sitting for the weekend. Sunny’s been having some trouble sleeping thanks to being pregnant, so we’re taking Wiener off their hands for a few days. Also, Randy loves dogs, and so do I.

  Wiener sits to Randy’s left, makin
g little whimpery noises while he alternates between patting Wiener’s butt and scratching under his chin. Meanwhile, he’s using his free hand to flip through a magazine in his lap. Randy, I mean. Not Wiener.

  I flop down beside him, fully expecting it to be hockey-related, since Randy’s a professional hockey player and all. Except it’s not. It’s a tattoo magazine. I curl into his side, checking out the designs along with him. Some are pretty and colorful, others are dark and macabre. Randy’s mostly a landscape and nature guy, based on his sleeve, but there’s a lot of empty canvas, so maybe he’s looking to diversify.

  “Is this for entertainment or research purposes?” I ask.

  The Vagina Emporium really, really likes the idea of Randy adding to his ink. She’s already preparing to open the doors and give him an all-access pass based on the thought alone. I didn’t put on underwear before I pulled on my sleep shorts, so it isn’t going to be much of a problem.

  Randy folds the page over and flips to the next one. “Me and the guys planned to get some ink together a while ago. I have a consult with my artist, ’cause I’m thinking about incorporating it into a new sleeve, and he’s got a few design ideas he wants to go over.”

  “Oh?” I remember Randy and Miller talking about tattoos last week, but I didn’t think anything of it because, well, Randy has an arm full of them. I look over at his sleeve, and that warm feeling spreads from between my legs through my whole body. “Another sleeve?”

  He stops leafing through the magazine to look at me. “Are you okay with that?”

  At first I think he’s kidding, and then I realize he’s actually quite serious.

  “Are you asking for permission?” I glance at the flower on his right hand. His dominant hand. His fingering hand. “Or just my blessing?” I try really hard not to sound all breathy and excited.

  “Is this you giving it?” He’s wearing an odd expression. I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I’ll play along.

  “Why would you even need it? It’s your skin.” I trace the outline of a tree on his forearm. “You can put whatever you want on it.”