Pucked Over (Pucked #3) (5 page)

“Oh, God.” She reaches out, then stops. “You’re so hard. I didn’t even—”

“Don’t worry.” I wink. “That’ll get taken care of later.”

“I have to take Brett home.”

I shrug. “I can wait.”

Her mouth drops—that seems to be a reaction I elicit from her often. “Oh my God! You’re such a cocky asshole!”

“Didn’t you just come three times?”

“Two point five, and I didn’t force you to eat my pussy!”

“You’re the one who kissed me, and you sure didn’t seem to mind me eating you.”

She jams the fallen items into her purse and hugs it to her chest. Elbowing me in the ribs, she pushes me out of the way. I don’t get how she can go from orgasm bliss to being angry, but then I don’t honestly know her that well. Maybe she’s got a split personality or something.

“What’s the deal?”

She flips the lock and turns to me, panicked. “I gotta go. I need to get away—”

She wrenches open the door and stumbles out into the hall. “Enjoy the rest of your evening!” She motions to my crotch. “I hope your, uh, situation resolves itself!”

“I was still hoping for some help with that.” I step out after her, buttoning my pants. Sunny looks from me to Lily and back again. Miller’s standing behind her wearing a grim expression.

“Fuck you very much for the orgasms.” Lily slaps a hand over her mouth, like she can’t believe she just said that.

“That was next on my to-do list.” I’m such an antagonistic ass.

“Guess you missed that opportunity. Again.” She cringes and mutters something else.

I was being considerate by not fucking her at Waters’ cottage. Seems like maybe she didn’t appreciate it all that much. “I could fix that if you want to come back to my hotel room.” I’m grinning. I can’t help it.

“I would so…” Her eyes close for a moment. “I need to find my cousin!” She spins on her heel and rushes away.

“Um… I’m gonna go deal with her.” Sunny points in Lily’s direction and chases after her, blond hair swishing.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Balls?” Miller looks put out.

I zip up my pants and inhale sharply, almost catching my boxers in the teeth. Now I want to find her again before she leaves. I haven’t resolved anything. The whole point of following her was to talk, not eat her out. “I should go after her.”

I take a step in the direction Lily went, but Miller puts an arm up to stop me. “Uh, dude. Not before you manage yourself.” He waves to everything above the neck.

I shake my head, frustrated, but go back into the bathroom and check my reflection. I laugh. “Oh, shit.” My hair’s a mess; like, it’s everywhere. My face, well—that’s another story. I definitely need to wash it, since Lily came all over it. I can smell her. I also have scratch marks running from the side of my jaw to the collar of my shirt. I search the floor for the hair tie Lily ripped out. I find it beside the toilet. I don’t have any other option right now, so I pick it up off the floor and gather my hair back up. I’m gonna need a shower once I get back to the hotel.

“I don’t get it, man. You’ve been off the scene for the last month, and all of a sudden you’re back at it. Here of all places? It’s a damn fundraiser, Randy, not one of Lance’s parties.”

“I know that.” Lance “Romance” Romero is another one of our teammates. He’s notorious for parties full of excess and bunnies. I turn on the tap and wash Lily off my face and out of my beard.

“Really? ’Cause it seems like maybe you forgot. Of all the girls you decide you wanna bone in a bathroom, why’s it gotta be Lily?”

“That’s not what happened.”

He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Seriously. I didn’t fuck her in here. I mean, we were messing around, but fucking didn’t take place.” Then I add, “I just had a little dessert is all.”

Miller scrubs his face with his palm. “You better watch yourself, Balls. Lily’s super tight with the Waters family. Alex is like a brother, and if he finds out you’re screwing her around, you’ll be next on his broken-nose radar.”

“It’s not like that.” I shut off the water and turn to face him. “Honestly, Miller, all I wanted to do was talk to her. We’re gonna see each other in a couple of weeks at Waters’ engagement party. I figured it’d be good to clear the air—”

“By eating her pussy in a bathroom?”

I give him a cheeky grin. “I learned from the best.”

Miller shakes his head. “Yeah. Not funny, asshole. I got traded for that shit, remember?”

“I’m sorry. I just—we got carried away.” I make some random hand gestures as I try to figure out what I want to say.

“You can’t dick Lily around the way you do the bunnies, Randy. It’s not cool.”

“I’m not gonna dick her around. We’re just having some fun.”

“I’m gonna go ahead and say I don’t think your version of fun and Lily’s are the same thing.”

“I’ll check on her and make sure we’re good.”

Miller’s phone buzzes. He takes it out of his pocket and keys in the password. His eyebrows knit together as he reads whatever’s on the screen. Miller’s dyslexic, so reading’s laborious for him. After a few seconds, he hits the text-to-speech button and a British chick reads the message out loud:

“
I can’t get Lily to toll me what hipped. She’s taking Brett hum.
”

“I’ll go find her.”

“She’s got her little cousin with her, Michael’s friend. What’re you gonna say with him there?”

“I dunno, but I’ll figure it out.” I head for the bar. Sunny’s standing at the entrance with her phone in her hand, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Where’s Lily?”

“She’s gone.” Sunny drops her hair and sighs. “What’d you do to her?”

I don’t think honesty is going to work for me here, so instead of saying I tongue-fucked her until she came on my face, I go with, “I think there was a miscommunication.”

A kid comes up to me, wearing a familiar look of idolization. “Randy Ballistic?”

I smile. “Yeah, man, how’s it going?”

“Can I get your autograph?” He holds out one of those homemade photo books. He’s even got one of my rookie cards in a special, protective sleeve taped to it.

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

His mom is standing behind him, smiling. “Thank you so much. He loves you. He wants to be just like you when he grows up.”

Usually that’s something I like to hear, but right now it doesn’t make me feel good at all. Not based on what happened in that bathroom.

Intentional Overreaction

LILY

Okay, so the way I handled that situation could have been better. But his insinuating I was going to take care of his dick later freaked me out—even though I’m the one who brought it up. Because he’s right. I would have, had the universe not intervened, even though none of that was supposed to go down. Especially not Randy.

Then there’s that whole part where I had an orgasm with only rubbing through fabric. There wasn’t even any real touching. Not at first. That’s never happened before. I may have had an orgasm even before he started leg-humping my girl parts. It was a baby one—nothing more than a repressed sneeze version—but still. How does that even happen?

I haul Brett out of the arena and call my aunt, who picks us up. Brett’s definitely not happy about leaving, but he’s thirteen, and it’s after ten-thirty, which is later than he usually stays out. I’m totally distracted the entire ride home, which is fine because Brett can’t stop talking about how awesome Miller and Randy are and how he totally wants to be a professional hockey player.

My aunt nods and smiles and makes the appropriate positive comments, but when she catches my eye in the mirror, I know this has set him up for disappointment. Brett is one of six kids. My aunt stayed home to raise them, and my uncle has a good job, but it’s a lot of mouths to feed. Four of them are boys between the ages of three and fifteen. The grocery bills in that home have to be outrageous.

My aunt and uncle can barely manage the costs associated with Brett’s rec hockey. The time it takes to attend all the away games, not to mention the money, will make it impossible for him to go any further. Hockey’s an expensive sport. Just like figure skating.

My heart breaks a little. I know his impending disappointment personally. Four years ago I was on the edge of qualifying for the Olympics. It would have meant sponsorship and the opportunity to move forward in that career. Figure skating was the only thing I knew and my greatest love. But my dad, the deadbeat asshole that he is, stopped paying child support. He owes my mom something like eighty grand. He also owes me my goddamn dream back. But I’m not bitter about it. I went to the University of Guelph instead.

By the time my aunt drops me off, I’m not quite so buzzed on mojitos and shooters, and my body no longer feels like it’s going to explode. I search my purse for my key and enter the lobby of the apartment building. My mom and I used to live in a little house. It was small, but it was ours. When my dad stopped with the child support, we had to move. The apartment isn’t bad. It’s in a nice neighborhood, because Guelph is generally a nice town, but it’s small, and I miss having a backyard.

I call out when I enter the apartment, but I’m met with silence. My mom isn’t home, which may or may not be a good thing. She has the night off, so she could be over at one of her friends’ or she could be on a date.

I head to the kitchen. I need water. Lots of it. I don’t drink much. I don’t like being out of control, and it doesn’t take much to get me that way. Maybe that explains the spontaneous orgasms.

I root through the cupboards for something to eat. I need to get groceries tomorrow. It’s slim pickings. I find a bag of extra buttery microwave popcorn and watch it spin around for ninety seconds. Once it’s done, I melt some margarine and pour it on top. I have a hard time keeping weight on, so the more fat I consume, the more likely I am to stay where I’m supposed to be.

I tuck the bowl under my arm, refill my glass, nab my purse from the counter, and go to my room. It’s small; the double bed takes up almost half the space. I drop down on the mattress and flip open my laptop, which is one of Sunny’s old ones. It’s really nice. My phone buzzes from inside my purse. I fish it out, and my stomach does some flip-flops as I scroll.

I have several texts from Sunny, which isn’t unusual. We’re together a lot—except when she’s at school, teaching yoga, or volunteering at the animal shelter and I’m not working at one of my two jobs. It’s the messages from Randy that make my stomach feel like it’s trying to jump out of my throat.

I ignore all of them to test my self-restraint and log in to my computer. As soon as the browser opens, I type in “spontaneous orgasms.” I don’t get much in the way of helpful information. Mostly it’s a bunch of nonsense and hypothetical crap. One article is about a woman who has more than a hundred orgasms a day. It sounds awful, and embarrassing. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I had unprovoked orgasms every time I saw Randy. Or maybe I can.

My whole body gets hot and my toes curl at the memory of his mouth on me. Did I really let him eat me out in a bathroom? In the arena where I work? I’ll never be able to use that bathroom again without having some kind of hot flash.

I chug my water and perform another search, this time with “Randy Ballistic” and “girlfriend.” I’ve been cyber-stalking the guy since I ruined his underwear and he ruined my vagina with his fingers and his mouth.

Here are some interesting facts about Randy: he’s a serial short-term dater. From the research/stalking I’ve done, I discovered an online group for girls who have “dated” Randy and been dumped. Four of them have his name tattooed somewhere on their body. The hip seems to be popular. One girl went so far as to have his face tattooed on her boob, except it’s a bad tattoo and he looks more like a caricature of that guy from
Sons of Anarchy
than Randy. I’d feel bad for her, but she’s a bunny, so it’s her own damn fault.

The message is disconcertingly consistent: Randy’s awesome in bed. Ballistic is definitely a fitting last name. He has a great sense of humor. He has amazing fingers. He has incredible stamina. His dick is enormous—there could be some exaggeration here. I’m not for sure on that since I have yet to see it. Based on my stroking, it’s substantial. They seem to have missed the fact that his tongue is a weapon of sexual mass destruction.

Most interesting is this tidbit: he only has sex with the lights off.

When we were fooling around at Alex’s cottage, the light in the bathroom was on, so it wasn’t totally dark, but he pulled the covers over us. I thought it was cute because he wanted to keep me warm. In August. Now I have things to ponder, such as
is that a fetish?
Is he thinking about someone in particular while getting busy? If so, who? And fuck her.

There are way too many questions I don’t have answers to. Not that I need them. I’m not getting trapped in a bathroom with him again. At least my
intention
is to avoid that scenario in the future. My lack of self-control is humiliating.

I have two weeks to prepare for Alex and Violet’s engagement party. By then I should have gained some will power. Nothing good can come of being a bunny, so here’s hoping.

My phone buzzes again. It’s Randy.

You still pissed at me
?

Silence, huh? You hold a long grudge. U gotta know the car wash was a misunderstanding. I meant 2 tell u in the bathroom, but u jumped me, so I didn’t have a chance
;)