Pucked Over (Pucked #3) (27 page)

“I called back. And messaged.”

“Canada screws with my phone.”

“We’re like that. Passive on the outside, messing with everyone on the down low.” I’m nervous, more than I’ve been before with Randy. I can’t read his mood, and I showed up unexpectedly.

He looks so good right now. He’s wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white button-down, the top two buttons undone. His red tie hangs loose, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The ink drives me nuts.

Looking at him is like being punched in the face by Medusa. He’s the kind of beautiful that makes women turn into mindless, sex-crazed puck bunnies. I get it now. I’ve had this man inside me. He can fuck like a champion.

It’s the reason I Ubered here. I have to leave in five hours, and I’m positive Randy’s not kidding about getting no sleep tonight. I don’t care. I can deal with being tired. That’s what coffee and energy drinks were created for.

My gaze flips up to his, and I get trapped there. I feel like I’m locked in a room with a panther, not a man. He leans in a little closer and his tongue glides along his lip, the skin glistening in the dim light. I notice, once again, that all but the bathroom light is off. He’s always setting the mood. I act on instinct and pounce. Literally, like a cat, I jump him.

I thread my fingers through his hair, and they go easily this time since it’s held back by nothing. It’s thick and gorgeous and dark. Holding on to the back of his neck, I propel myself up, our lips colliding, teeth clashing.

Randy grips my ass and presses his hips into mine, pinning me against the wall. I always end up pinned against something. Beds are the nicest since they’re soft. He groans and starts rocking his hips, like he’s planning to fuck me right through our clothes—not that I’m wearing many. My legs are cold thanks to the stupid skirt. I forgot to pack leggings, but I wasn’t stopping home to get a pair.

He palms my ass with one hand and cups the back of my head with the other. At first I think it’s to protect me from any kind of banging. But he curls his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back. It’s not gentle, but it’s not rough either.

I lift my chin, and his mouth descends on my throat. His lips are so soft; his teeth make me shiver. “I need you naked. Now.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

He carries me over to the bed, which is a relief. I’ve been on the ice all day and a prone position is much preferred. So is a mattress over a wall. Randy finds the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. His eyes dart to my chest. I bought a new bra two days ago when I started toying with the idea of cabbing it here.

“This looks new.”

“I haven’t worn it much.”

“Does it still have the tags attached?” He slides a finger under the strap at my back and kisses along the lacy edge.

“Haha. Why don’t you take it off and find out.”

He looks up at me, still wearing that fiery expression. With one easy flick he opens the clasp. I make a noise that turns into a moan when he noses the cup out of the way and immediately sucks a nipple into his mouth.
Oh God
. I’d forgotten how good it feels to have his hands and mouth on me.

Okay, no I hadn’t. But I’ve been trying to forget for the past four weeks, because I’m not so sure I’m managing this casual thing all that well.

I’ve been dying to see him this entire time, aching for the feel of him on me, around me, in me. If it was just the sex, I’d be okay, but it’s not. I think I might actually like him—as a human being. A person. A man. If he didn’t live in another country, I might want to date him. And that’s a bad thing to want, because Randy doesn’t date. I know this.

When my mom wouldn’t give me the car for the night I was pissed—and maybe a little relieved. But then I started thinking about it. And Randy. And how this might be the last time I get an opportunity to be naked with him. He seems into these encounters we have, but he could strike me from his list at any time. The sex is amazing. I didn’t want to end up regretting not having it again. Just in case. Which is pathetic, but I’m not going to focus on that right now. Instead I’m going to focus on the feel of Randy’s mouth on my nipple.

I’m also going to work on getting him naked. I shove my hands under his shirt until I reach his pecs. I give his nipples a little tweak—but not too hard, because I’m not sure how he’ll react. Reversing the motion, I run my nails down his tight stomach. His whole body does this vibrating thing, like he’s on some weird radio frequency, and he breaks the suction. “Your nipples. Fuuuuck.”

It’s not much of an explanation. He sits back on his knees and works on getting his shirt off. He doesn’t bother with buttons, just yanks his tie over his head. I go for his belt buckle, but he gets there first. He’s just as aggressive with that as he was with the shirt. He pulls it free, and it snaps against the comforter.

I eye the belt. He’s still holding it. “I don’t do spankings.”

“What if I do?” He slides it ominously along his palm.

“Then you can pass that over, and I’ll do my best not to feel bad about smacking you around with it.”

Some of the heavy mood dissipates, and Randy cracks a smile. “Don’t worry, luscious Lily. That’s not my thing. Hair pulling is a totally different story, though.”

“I like the hair pulling.”

“I know.” He pops the button on his pants and slides them over his hips, kicking them off.

He’s not wearing his favorite underwear, maybe because he wasn’t expecting me. Before I can shove my hand into his boxers and get a look at Nessie, he flips my skirt up. I’m rewarded with one of his amazing groans. My vagina claps her pretty lips, and my magic marble lights up like we’ve won the million-dollar prize. Sexing with Randy is almost that good.

“You bought these for me.” He’s not asking, he’s telling.

I’d lie, but it’s pointless. Also, acknowledging will likely get me what I want faster. Which is his cock inside me. “I did.”

“I promise I won’t shred them with my teeth, but I really want to.” Randy shakes his head and looks down at my crotch like it’s a dessert he’s dying to eat, but can’t. Which is ridiculous, because he can have it whatever way he wants it. Well, almost any way. I’m not down with him trying to stick his whole damn hand in there, or any weird things like produce.

He runs his hands slowly up the outside of my thighs, taking a few deep breaths. He’s muttering to himself a little. Maybe it’s a pep talk.

“Everything okay up there?” Again, I’m going for snark, but I’m still a little discombobulated by how intense he’s being, so it’s more breathy than sarcastic.

“Everything’s fuckin’ fantastic.” He bites his bottom lip and exhales a couple more heavy, deep breaths. His fingertips slip under the elastic.

I whimper when they don’t stay there, but glide back down to my knees. I part my legs, giving him lots of room to get all up in there with whatever he wants—fingers, tongue, dick. Any of them are welcome at Lily’s Vagina Emporium.

On the next upward slide, I do the bridge to encourage him, lifting my hips off the bed so my pussy is closer to his face. I’m beyond caring about how worked up he was in the elevator, or how his jaw was doing that tic thing every once in a while. Now he seems better. Maybe my near nakedness calms him, like a sedative.

I toss my bra over the side of the bed and push my panties over my hips, but Randy covers my hands with his, stopping me.

“Not yet.”

“But I—”

“I’m savoring, Lily. It’s been thirty fucking four days. Thirty-four days since I’ve licked that pretty pussy of yours. Been inside you. Made you come. Don’t rush me.”

All it takes from him are words to get me close to the edge. I wonder if this is normal. I don’t think so. He’s like a snake charmer, except it’s orgasms he’s charming out of me rather than reptiles.

On the next pass, he breaches the elastic. He flips his hand and drags a single knuckle along my slit. I’m shaking like a crackhead looking for a fix. It’s insane. I bite my lip to stop all the words from coming out. A few random whimpers escape, but I keep the stilted phrases like “fuck me” and “oh God, I want to come so bad” and “I’ll be your sex slave forever if you’ll continue to make me orgasm like this for the rest of my life” inside my head. Instead of saying any of those things, I moan his name and continue with the random noises.

He shifts my panties to the side. I’m not sure why he doesn’t take them off—it’d probably be easier—but as long as he keeps rubbing my clit, I’m fine with how awkward this must be for him.

His erection is poking at the safety hatch of his boxer briefs. If my arms were longer, and I wasn’t already on the cusp of coming, I’d try to get a hand on it. Randy takes care of the problem by sticking his free hand down the front at the same time as he pushes two fingers inside me.

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
.