Home > Pucked Over (Pucked #3)(7)

Pucked Over (Pucked #3)(7)
Author: Helena Hunting

“It was a groan. That’s very different from a moan.”

He leans against the door, blocking my exit. “Oh yeah? Wanna explain that to me?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you. Now get out so I can use the bathroom! In private. Alone.” My voice is still super squeaky. I need to stop acting like an idiot. I also need him to get out of the bathroom before I do something I should regret, but probably won’t. He doesn’t seem nearly as opposed to that as I’d thought he would.

I push his shoulder in an attempt to get him out of the way. He moves maybe a fraction of an inch. He smells fantastic, like he’s freshly showered and deodorized. His arm is so solid, nothing like Benji’s was. I keep pushing, and I might give his biceps a little squeeze.

“What’s with you and busting in on me in the bathroom?” I say, not quite shouting now.

I feel my face heat at the memory of him barging in on me at the cottage with my girl parts on display and his hand in his shorts. Damn it. Now I’m thinking about the near-sexing we did, again.

Randy’s still smiling like a jackass. I think he said something and I missed it, too busy being mortified. And turned on.

“What?” I ask.

His tongue sweeps across his bottom lip. He has great lips. They’re full and soft and great for kissing. He brushes the hair out of my face, fingertips skimming my cheek. All my muscles clench. I’m pretty sure I could come just thinking about the things he’s done to me. Which is crazy, because I’ve always believed reactions like that are total bullshit.

“I was just saying that the last time we were in a bathroom together, you were wearing a lot less.” His gaze roams over me and his eyes—the color of honey, or a sandy beach, or who the fuck cares—drop below my waist. He points at my crotch. “How’s your waxer doing these days? You get your situation sorted out down there?”

My mouth hangs open. I close it quickly, then open it again, waiting for some sassy quip of retaliation, but nothing arrives. I don’t have a good comeback, or anything to say to that, because the honest answer is no. I haven’t had a chance to sort it out.

I’ve been stuck waxing my own girl parts for the last month. I’m not very good at it. I keep missing spots, and I have to go over them with a razor. My vag constantly has patches of five o’clock shadow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!”

“Wanna show me?”

“You’re a pig!”

In reality, I kinda do want to show him, even if it’s not the best waxing job in the world. Actually, I’d like to get him on his knees, drop my pants, hike a leg up on the edge of the sink and shove his face right in there so he can have an up-close-and-personal view of the hell I have to go through in order to make my vagina presentable for no one, because I’m the only person who sees it.

I think I might need to have sex soon. With something other than my vibrator.

“I hate your perfect face!” I hiss. Literally, I sound like a snake. I grab the lapels of his button-down shirt. Then I shove my tongue in his mouth.

Shit. This is the opposite of what was supposed to happen.

Chapter 2

What Happens in the Bathroom Stays in the Bathroom. Or Not.


I find myself pressed up against the door, the handle jabbing into my lower back as Lily rams her tongue down my throat. She breaks the kiss—if you could even call it that—and shoves away from me, but she’s still holding my shirt. Her nostrils flare a little, and her eyes—a shade of brown so dark I almost can’t see where her iris ends and the pupil begins—are glazed.

I have no idea what I thought was going to come of following her into this bathroom. My only plan was to have some kind of discussion, since the last time we had words they included her calling me an asshole, as well as a slew of other creative insults, and she won’t answer my calls. She also wrote all over my clothes in permanent marker. I sort of deserved it. I like that she’s my kind of crazy.

She shakes her head and smoothes away the dark, chin-length hair that’s fallen in her eyes. Her chest heaves with every breath. She looks hot tonight. Her jeans accentuate the fine, lean lines of her body. Her event T-shirt is tied at the side to accommodate how large it is on her narrow frame.

She’s pretty much panting. It reminds me a lot of the way she sounded when I ate her pussy at Waters’ cottage. That was weeks ago. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I don’t know why. I mean, I can eat pussy anytime I damn well please—not that I do. Going down is intimate, and bunnies have usually made the rounds. I’m not putting my mouth where a million other dicks have been.

Hypocritical? Not at all. I don’t let the bunnies put their mouths on me either… for a variety of reasons. But Lily’s not a bunny, and she needed to be taken care of. Properly. So I went down on her. I drew the line at fucking her, though, because I didn’t want to feel guilty if she only let me bang her to get back at her asshole ex.

It was the right thing to do, but I still have regrets. Especially since I know she hasn’t gotten back with that dickwad. Not that I’ve asked or anything. Miller offers up the information. And now everything between her and me seems to be sideways. Or it did until about thirty seconds ago. Anyway, having had my fingers inside Lily, I can say, without a doubt, the sex would be stellar. She’s one tight little firecracker.

She drags my mouth back down and pauses when our lips are almost touching. I feel around behind me for the lock and flip it. I don’t want any interruptions right now. I pull her against me, trapping her hands between us. Then I brush the end of my nose against hers, all soft-soft.

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