Pucked: Pucked Over Part 19

All that comes out is a whimper.

That smirky grin appears for a second. "I wanna watch me f.u.c.k you."

I manage words this time. "Sounds like fun."

Now I get a real smile. "I like fun." He slaps a condom on the counter. "Open that for me?"

"Sure thing, Captain Ballistic."

"I hate it when you last-name me." He bites my shoulder.

"Sorry, Randy," I say it all sweet and breathless, like I imagine the bunnies do for him.

Tearing the wrapper, I push the latex ring up. "I can put it on if you want."

"I got this." He shoves his pants down but doesn't bother taking them off. He's still got one arm clamped across my chest. He doesn't let go as he plucks the condom from the wrapper and rolls it on one-handed. I don't understand why he won't let me do it, but his skill is impressive nonetheless.

Once the condom is where it should be, he unbars my chest and runs his hands down my arms. His lips are on the nape of my neck as he presses my palms against the vanity.

I glance over my shoulder, hoping to get a look at... something. He nudges my cheek with his nose. "Keep your eyes on mine, baby."

I glance up and get caught in his hot stare. Holy mother of all things moist, he's got one h.e.l.l of a smolder going on. Randy keeps one hand on top of mine and grips his c.o.c.k with the other. Spreading my knees, he bends, and then I feel it: the head of his c.o.c.k gliding over my c.l.i.t. I glance down as it disappears from view. And then he's pus.h.i.+ng inside me-slow, controlled. It's so, so good. Scratch that. Good doesn't cut it. It's more magical than Oz.

I arch, pus.h.i.+ng back, seeking more. And I sure as h.e.l.l get it. He buries himself completely on a deep exhale.

His eyes flutter, and he groans. "So f.u.c.kin' good."

"Totally agree."

He runs a palm up my spine, fingers curling around the back of my neck. I'd consider it a highly dominating action if he didn't knead my tight muscles. He follows this up by using my hair to pull my head back. Not hard, just firmly. Then he presses the softest, warmest kiss below my ear. There's no way to know what's coming next.

"Ready, baby?"

"Uh-huh." I'd nod, but he's still holding my hair.

His smile sends a s.h.i.+ver down my spine and a shot of holy s.h.i.+t to my c.l.i.t. He angles my head to the side so he has access to my mouth. This time it's the battle of tongues two-point-oh. I fist his hair. The harder I grip, the harder he kisses. He's still not moving, though. I'm ultra c.o.c.k-filled, but without the friction, there's no way to reach the land of bliss.

Randy breaks the kiss on a grunt, and the f.u.c.king commences. It's a no-holds-barred, f.u.c.k-me-until-the-little-bottles-of-shampoo-fall-over-and-roll-onto-the-floor experience. And the entire time his eyes are on mine-apart from the occasional split-second glance down as he eases out and pushes in super slow. Just to keep me guessing, I suppose.

I'm close to coming. A few well-placed rubs and I'll free-fall into o.r.g.a.s.m outer s.p.a.ce. The problem is, I'm afraid to lift my hand with the way Randy's pounding into me. The only reason I'm still upright is because he's holding my hips and my arms are acting as support beams. Unsteady ones, but I'm managing. For now.

"Randy?" It comes out fairly coherent in spite of the vigorous pounding.

"Yeah, baby?"

My c.l.i.t practically lights itself on fire. His voice is straight-up s.e.x shooters.

His next thrust is gentler. "You need me to slow it down?"

I shake my head. "I need to come."

"You sure f.u.c.kin' do." He releases one hip, and I nearly face plant into the sink. His wide palm covers my sternum, his thumb and forefinger spreading across my collarbones. He pulls me against him. His other hand slides down the back of my leg, hooking under my knee. I have no idea what his plan is, but he's basically responsible for carrying all of my body weight.

I hold onto the back of his neck so I have an anchor. I'm standing on the ball of one foot. I can see the latex ring at the base of his c.o.c.k in the reflection. And his b.a.l.l.s. They're pulled up tight. There's also a long, pale scar on the inside of his thigh.

That's definitely not my point of focus, though. This position is almost reminiscent of a figure-skating pose. Except we're naked and his ma.s.sive, fabulous c.o.c.k is inside me, which definitely wouldn't happen on the ice.

Randy's one coordinated man, because he's able to roll my marble and hold me up while still thrusting. It's insane. And hot.

So of course I come. It's the apocalypse of o.r.g.a.s.ms. I moan so loudly I have to cover my mouth with my hand. Otherwise I'm concerned anyone walking by in the hall might think I'm being murdered.

Randy stops with the magical genie c.l.i.t rubbing and moves my hand away from my mouth. "No f.u.c.kin' way. I wanna hear you come as much as I wanna watch. Make those fingers useful."

I'm not sure whether to be a snarky b.i.t.c.h or even more turned on. I'm mostly the latter. "People might hear me."

"Like I care who hears you."

He s.h.i.+fts until my knee rests on top of the vanity. Then he reaches over and slams the door. "Now you can make all the noise I want."

He guides my hand between my legs, encouraging me to take over the rolling of the marble. It takes me all of half a minute to have another o.r.g.a.s.m. He goes back to the aggressive, heavy thrusting, and I keep rubbing and trying not to scream his name or feed his ego more than I already have.

I don't know how it's possible for him to pick up speed, or momentum, but he does. The vanity starts to creak with each frantic thrust. I come again and give up the marble rolling, bracing a hand on the mirror instead. I'll definitely leave a juicy handprint behind. Which I'm sure Randy will love.

"f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k." His head drops against my shoulder, and he bites his way across my neck. "All night long, Lily. I'm gonna be inside you every f.u.c.king minute you're here with me."

"Sounds like a good time." I say, and then, because I can't help myself, "But it'll probably get a little awkward when we're sleeping."

"So f.u.c.king cheeky." This time he uses more teeth, and I gasp. A smile tips his mouth, but it's brief. He's too close to coming to make more jokes.

He circles his hips, and the hand splayed across my chest comes up a little higher, resting below the base of my throat. "Your mouth, Lily. I want it."

I turn my head and he kisses me, going deep. His other hand drops low, cupping me. He makes the same sound he did last time he came. So I fall down the rabbit hole again with him.

We're both breathing like we've been running from the cops. And we're sweaty. I'd be grossed out, but I'm too o.r.g.a.s.m-saturated to care.

Randy carefully lifts my leg down from the vanity. I attempt to use the counter to help brace myself, but we've definitely done some damage. It's pulling away from the wall. And it's on an angle.

I hold on to his arm. My legs are seriously unsteady after that thorough f.u.c.king.

"Look what you did." I push the vanity with one finger, and it wobbles.

"Look what I did? Look what you did." He jiggles it. It sounds like drywall chunks. .h.i.tting the floor. And possibly a tile.

"Stop! You're going to make it break! How will you explain that?"

"Why am I explaining it? It's your fault."

"My fault? How is it my fault? You're the one who busted in here on me. How did that happen anyway? I locked it! Were you some kind of juvenile delinquent as a kid? Are those your prison tats?"

He laughs.

"Stop!"

He takes my chin between his thumb and finger, tilting up. "You're so cute I can't even stand it."

"I am not cute." I push his hand away. He lets go, turns around, and pulls up his pants. He's all tucked inside and hidden away when he swings back around, though his boxer briefs sit low and his pants are still undone.

He's got what could possibly be an appendectomy scar, but it seems like the wrong place for that. He tosses the used condom in the garbage. Then reaches around me to turn on the tap, pinning me against the vanity.

"And you're also s.e.xy, so you shouldn't be too upset about being cute."

"Cute is for pink tutus and puppies, not grown women."

"Mmm. I see." He finishes was.h.i.+ng his hands and takes my face between his wet palms.

"Ah! What the h.e.l.l, Randy!"

He doesn't answer, just kisses me while he smiles. I stop fighting against him and go with it, even though he's making my face wet. He leans in, and the vanity cracks loudly. "You can't tell me that was anything but ten-out-of-ten s.e.x."

"Probably even eleven. I need a shower."

He gives me some s.p.a.ce. "I'll order us some room service."

"You don't want to join me?"

"Another time. I'm hungry, and you gotta be starving."

"But you're all sweaty."

"I'm used to being sweaty; plus I'm totally happy smelling like this."

He pats me on the a.s.s and turns on the water. While I wash my hair he peeks through the curtain and reads me the menu. It's already two by the time I'm done with my shower. I have nothing clean to put on, so I use one of the robes the hotel provides for guests who rent the nice rooms. I find Randy lying on the bed, watching Sportsnet.

He's still s.h.i.+rtless and wearing jeans. He pats the bed. "Come hang out with me."

I lie in the mound of pillows, and he slides an arm behind my back, pulling me close. It's comfortable, which is a little unnerving. I get all cozy along his side and close my eyes. I'm so tired. Having two jobs is exhausting, as is multiple o.r.g.a.s.ms and awesome s.e.x.

I must nod off, because suddenly Randy's all up in my face, using my b.o.o.bs to shake me awake. I open my eyes with a frown.

He's smiling. "Food's here!"

"Nice."

We sit cross-legged on the bed, and I devour the entire personal pizza he ordered for me. It was only six slices. "I'm so full." I lean back against the pillows and rub my belly through the robe. "And sleepy again."

"So catch a nap."

I check the clock. It's already three-thirty. "I have to leave in an hour."

He frowns. "And you're off at what time?"

"Not until ten."

"You should call in sick."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not sick."

"So? Come on, call in." He crawls up my body and lies to the right of me. "I don't have another Toronto game for a month, and I doubt you can get a whole weekend off to come to a Chicago game."

I run my fingers through his hair, debating.

"You can nap, and then we can use the rest of that box of condoms." He traces the edge of the robe and pulls the tie free. "I promise it'll be more fun than work." He parts my robe and circles a nipple with his fingertip. It pebbles under his touch.

I shouldn't call in. I should work my s.h.i.+ft, but he's right, I can't logically coordinate the time off with both jobs, and there's no guarantee he'll still be interested in another month. This could potentially be my last opportunity to have seriously uninhibited s.e.x.

I sigh. "Okay."

"You'll call in?"

"Yes."

"I'll get your phone." He rolls off the bed and jogs to the bathroom. He returns with my purse and my bag of goodies from Shopper's. He holds up the box of condoms I purchased. "You're a regular Girl Scout, aren't you?"

"It's Girl Guides in Canada."

"Good to know. You better call work quick. We have twenty-three condoms to blow through tonight. We have to get started on that right away."

I wait until Randy turns the volume down on the TV before I call. Once I'm on the phone with my boss, he runs his hands up my s.h.i.+ns. When he reaches my knees, I kick at him. He grabs my legs and spreads them apart, pulling me down the bed.

I mouth for him to stop, but he pulls me in tight, grinding against me. He's already hard. I can both see and feel him through his jeans.

"I'm so sorry. I know. It must have been something I ate. I got takeout last night, and I've been sick all day." I cough to cover my groan when he rubs against my c.l.i.t. "I thought I'd be over it by now, but I don't think it's a good idea for me to work around food if there's a possibility I'm contagious. I should have called earlier-Yes, of course. I'll call tomorrow and let you know. 'Kay, thanks. I'm sorry again."

I hang up the phone. "You couldn't have waited until I was done before you started with the humping?"

"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."

"f.u.c.k 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.