Pucked Over (Pucked #3) (22 page)

“What fun would that have been?” He takes my phone and tosses it on the bed, then lies on top of me.

“I thought I was supposed to nap.”

“Fuck first. Nap later.”

“You’re insatiable.”

I pull his mouth down to mine, and the only sounds I manage after those are moans of affirmation.

True to his word, Randy keeps me up most of the night. I’m naked the entire time, and the only reason I get out of bed is to hose down or use the bathroom.

He orders wine and cheese and fruit for us to snack on between sexings. I don’t think I’ve ever been this indulged in my life—not with sex or attentiveness.

Randy has some interesting sex habits I can now cross-reference with his bunny groups: he always starts with the covers on, and then we lose them later. He likes the lights down in the beginning, and then he likes to be able to see me when I come.

He’s also a little weird about me touching his cock. I have no idea why, but any hand-job action is short-lived and always while the lights are down. And when I offer to go down on him, he tells me some other time since he’ll taste like latex.

I’m not about to ruin all the awesome orgasms and sex we’re having by asking personal questions, so I leave it alone.

It’s after five in the morning by the time we finally finish a box of condoms, save one. I need at least three solid hours of sleep or I’m going to be a mess at the arena. Randy slips an arm under my pillow and pulls me to him. I’m naked, still, and so is he, but I have no more energy left for sex. My vagina will fall off my body. He seems to be done—for now—so this time when I fall asleep, I’m not awakened by his mouth next to my ear, asking me if I wanna have more fun yet.

Just a Ride

LILY

Eight comes horribly fast. I cut my alarm and look over at Randy, still out cold. His full lips are parted, his tattooed arm thrown out to the side. There’s a hockey scene captured on his forearm, and a Toronto emblem, as well as the one for New York. It’s still too dark for me to make out the rest.

I leave him where he is and tiptoe to the bathroom. My hair’s a mess. I look like I’ve been boned from here all the way to the North Pole. And not freshly either—in a used well and ridden like a cheap hooker kind of way. I also smell like a big, huge pile of sex. I take a quick shower and call a cab. I don’t want to wake Randy up to have him drive me in.

I put on my crappy jogging pants and hoodie, thankful that I have a spare skating outfit in my locker. There’s nothing I can do about the lack of underwear, since I forgot about washing them, but I’ve dealt with worse issues.

I pack my bag in a rush, knowing I’m cutting it close. I debate whether or not to leave without saying goodbye. I decide I don’t want to. I wouldn’t like it if Randy did that to me. Although I’m a girl, and we’re different.

I creep around to his side of the bed. My plan is to whisper a goodbye and thanks, but I note the tented sheets at his waist. He’s asleep with a hard-on. I lift the soft cotton carefully, but I’m disappointed to find he’s got his boxers back on. It’s like the damn Loch Ness monster. Everyone says it’s real, but they’ve never seen it to prove it.

I reach under the covers, ready to sneak a peek, but Randy snatches my hand. “If you want it, all you have to do is ask.” He pulls me down and rolls on top of me.

“I was saying bye. I have to leave for work.”

He nuzzles his face into my neck and gives me a couple of humps through the sheets and my clothes. “No. Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“I wanna fuck some more.”

I laugh. He’s all groggy and uncoordinated—aside from the hip grinding. That’s very coordinated. “I called a cab. I have to leave, like, two minutes ago.”

“I’ll drive you in.”

“You’re not even conscious.”

“My dick is. He’ll drive.”

I push on his chest, but he’s not budging. “If I’m late I could lose my job.”

He stops grinding and rolls off me. “Now I have to deal with this alone.” He pats his hard-on.

“Just go back to sleep; it’ll go away.”

“What time are you done?”

“One, but I work a shift at my other job at four.”

“I’ll come get you.”

“Don’t you need to go back to Chicago?”

“I’ll fly or something.” He shoves his hand down the front of his boxers. “See you at one, luscious Lily.”

“Whatever you say, raucous Randy.” I turn to leave.

“Wait.”

“Hmm?”

He taps his cheek lazily. “I wanna kiss before you leave.”

I lean over and plant one there, then drop another on his lips. “Thanks for all the fun.”

“Anytime.”

***

Since he was half-asleep when I left this morning, I don’t really expect him to show up at my work. So when he arrives at eleven-thirty with coffee and a bag and sits in the stands, all the butterflies in the world take up residence in my stomach.

We had an insane amount of sex. I’ve never in my life used an entire box of condoms in one night. Three, maybe, but never more than that. All my muscles ache, but the pain isn’t something I mind.

At the end of the lesson, I skate over to Randy. He looks fresh, cleaned up, and a whole lot less disheveled than I did this morning. “I brought you something.” He passes me the bag.

I take a peek inside. “You bought me clothes?”

“I figure we only have a couple of hours before you have to go to work, and you’d want something fresh to change into. I guessed at the size. I know your dress was a four at the party.” He jams his hands into his pockets.

A guy remembering a dress size seems epic. “That’s sweet, but you didn’t need to do that. I have my work clothes. I was going to change into them.”

“Well, I thought I could take you out for lunch, since that didn’t happen yesterday.”

“You don’t want to go back to your hotel?” I’m sort of being cheeky, sort of not.

“I had to check out.” He rolls back on his heels. “The backseat of the Jeep is spacious, though.”

I can’t tell if he’s being serious. One of the parents comes over to ask me a couple of questions, and of course, another mother recognizes Randy and starts freaking out. She’s got to be almost forty, and she’s definitely undressing him mentally. I know the look. Lucky for me I don’t have to work to imagine him without clothes. Well, except for one part.

I head to the locker room, shower, and put on the new clothes. He’s good at guessing. He’s also got expensive taste. A pair of gray leggings, a pretty shirt dress in royal blue, and a new pair of very lacy, very delicate panties cost over a hundred and fifty dollars, according to the price tags. The receipt isn’t in the bag, so there’s no way to return them.

Randy takes me to a nice restaurant. Everything is expensive. Benji and I didn’t go out on dates very often. If we did it was to see some local hipster band. He’d eat sweet potato fries and complain about his parents not putting enough money in his bank account. It was annoying, but he always paid for me, so I never said anything. He liked to hold things like that over my head so I’d feel like I owed him something. He also liked to manipulate by digging at my insecurities. It set us up for inequity, and that doesn’t work for me. I don’t think it works for anyone.

Randy just seems to want to go out for a nice lunch. He gets a beer, and I get a glass of wine even though I have to work in a few hours. I’m starving, making lunch that much more amazing. Probably because of all the sex.

We get dessert, and not to share because I want my own and so does Randy.

“You work a lot, huh?” he says as he shovels a mouthful of peach pie into his mouth. His dessert choice is ironic.

I got the fried banana and ice cream. Also ironic.

“Yeah. I finished school in April. I’d like to work on a masters in physiotherapy, but the program’s expensive, so I need to save for a while. I’ve worked at the coffee shop since high school. There aren’t any full-time skating-coach positions unless I move to the city, so I do both for now.”

“A masters, huh? So you’re smart.”

I shake my head. “Not really. I mean, I guess for science and stuff I’m decent. I had to work hard to keep my scholarship. School wasn’t a breeze or anything.”

“So do you have a place close by? We have more than an hour before you have to go to work.” He’s got that look on his face.

Right now, more than ever, I wish I had my own apartment. Or one I shared with Sunny so I could take him back there for one last sex-and-orgasm marathon before I have to go to work and he has to leave for Chicago.

“I, uh
…
um
…
I don’t live on my own.”

“You have a roommate?” We’re sitting beside each other, not across the table. His arm is draped across the back of the seat, and he keeps running his knuckles down either side of my spine, from my hairline to the collar of my shirt. I can feel it right in my magic marble. Which I would love for Randy to roll again.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do you think she’ll be home?” Now he’s running a single finger back and forth along the collar of my shirt. That he bought for me. So I didn’t have to deal with wearing dirty clothes. I’m also not wearing a bra since all I had was my ugly, ancient sports one.

My nipples are hard and obvious through my shirt. He’s noticed. He touches the scar on his lip with the tip of his tongue. I can almost hear his thoughts. And he’s got an obvious rod in his pants. It’s angled toward my vagina like a directional arrow. That helps with the mind reading.

“I don’t know. Sometimes she works odd hours.” It’s not a total lie. My mom’s job isn’t always predictable, and some days she works from home. Plus it’s a Sunday, so who knows what she could be up to.

“Well, she won’t mind if we come back and use your room, right?” He leans in and puts his mouth to my ear. “You can always bite a pillow if you’re worried about being loud.”

I picture the scene that might require me to do that. Any one of the many positions from last night would definitely qualify.

“Why don’t I pay the bill and we can get outta here?” Randy nuzzles my neck, and my clit lights up like it’s the Jumbotron flashing a winning score. I’d like to jump him right now. At this table. Regardless of the audience.

I have to tell him the truth. I can’t risk bringing him back to my apartment on the off chance my mom is there.

“Unless you’re not interested.” It’s meant to come off as sarcastic, or cocky, but there’s a waver in his smile, and what might be a little insecurity.

I’m experiencing a high level of embarrassment. It’s almost as bad as the first time I met him—naked, with my fur burger on display—or worse, the limbo period of time after I defaced his underwear and before he ate me out in the bathroom. “It’s not that I’m not interested; it’s just that—” I try not to make a scrunchy face, but I can tell I’m unsuccessful.

“Last night too much for you?” Again with the humor/sarcasm.

There’s no way to say this that isn’t going to be horrifying, so I blurt, “My mom is my roommate.”

Randy cocks his head to the side. I say a little prayer. It goes something like this:
Dear God, It’s me, Lily. I’ve probably done this three times total in my life, and you never seem to be online when I am, but it’d be super awesome if you clubbed Randy over the head so he doesn’t remember this whole episode. Thanks.

It doesn’t work. Instead Randy gets the look I’m used to by this point: half cocky asshole, half hot bastard. “You live with your mom?”

“I’m saving for an apartment.” It doesn’t matter how good the reason is, I still feel losery.

I’m highly aware that this generation, us twenty-somethings, sometimes stay at home longer than what was normal in the past, thanks to the cost of education and the fact that jobs aren’t as easy to get. There’s also that sense of entitlement thing some people have going on—like Benji, who’s more than happy to ride the free train as long as possible. That’s not why I stay. Mostly I’m there to keep an eye on my mom when her relationships inevitably fail. And anyway, Sunny and I had a plan, which isn’t going to happen now that she’s seriously considering Chicago. Unless I go with her. That’s looking more and more appealing all the time.

“So it’s you and your mom, then? No other roommates?”

It’s a roundabout way of asking a personal question. We haven’t had many conversations about family, apart from what he’s said about his dad. But then, we’ve been too busy getting our sex on for much talking.

“Nope. No other roommates.”

He nods, pensive, but doesn’t push for more information. If we start talking about serious stuff, a last round of ride-the-dick won’t happen.

“There’s a bathroom here.”

I’ve already considered it. I won’t tell him that, though. “So classy.”

“We could always find one of those by-the-hour hotel rooms.”

“That’s the worst idea ever in the history of ideas, Randy. I’d rather do it in the back of the Jeep than a hotel room that looks like a Rorschach test under a black light.”

Randy laughs. “Backseat it is then.”

I’m not sure if he’s kidding, but he gets the check, and we walk out to the Jeep. I still have an hour and a half before my shift, and he doesn’t seem to be a in a rush to leave, so I suggest we go for a drive. We park in the middle of nowhere on a trail that leads to who knows what. Apparently Randy is totally serious about the backseat, because I end up with my pants off and my shirt pushed up with him inside me again.

By the time we’ve finished round eight million of our sex marathon, I’ve got twenty-seven minutes to get to the coffee shop. I change into my uniform in the backseat with Randy’s help—which mostly consists of fondling and some gropes—and he drives me to work.

I’m nervous about goodbye. I don’t know what to expect. This isn’t like any of our previous sexual encounters. He parks the Jeep in the lot and turns to me. My hands are clammy. I’m not going to see him again for at least a month. It’s probably a good thing, preventing me from getting attached, or too comfortable.

“I had a lot of fun with you, Lily. Definitely ten-out-of-ten fun.”