Home > Pucked Over (Pucked #3)(55)

Pucked Over (Pucked #3)(55)
Author: Helena Hunting

“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 shift, 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 sex.

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 shins. 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 clit. “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.”

“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.

Chapter 15

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.”

   
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