Puck Buddies (19 page)

“I don’t think I’m better than you.”
His nostrils flare. “I like you.”

“You hate that you like me,” I
challenge him. He flinches and doesn’t answer. “How can you hate me for being a
Ford when you’re you? That’s like me disliking you for not following in your
father’s footsteps.”

“You called me blue collar.” He lifts
his eyebrows.

“I never said I wasn’t an asshole, I
just said you were one too.”

He leans forward. “I know I’m an
asshole. I am trying not to be. It’s more than I can say for you.” He wrinkles
his nose angrily. “No. Scratch that. I don’t mean that. You are trying to be
nice and I am saying things in anger.” All the hate slips away when he exhales.
“I like you, Sami. I made a mistake. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Millions. The
one mistake I will forever hate myself for was not finding you after the cab
ride.” His eyes soften again. “I just want this to be more than two rich kids
with no real future or freedom. I’m scared to let myself be with you and it’s
not fair.”

His admission is hot. Hotter than the
fight sex we had.

He’s being vulnerable.

When the car stops and Charles gets the
door, Matt grabs my hand, “Wait. Don’t do this. Please.”

Instead of struggling free, I clamp
down on his hand and pull him from the car toward my house. A camera flash goes
off but I don’t care.

When we get in the building he stops me.
“Can we take a walk?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I want you.” When
the door opens Nadia looks confused as we storm past her and the butler and
head for my room.

Checkmate

Matt

There are moments, memories, in my mind
that battle for the top ten as far as sex goes, but number one will forever be
the moment we get back into her room and she leans her back against the door
and lifts her skirt revealing her white underwear, muttering, “Why don’t you
show me how much better you are at everything in a bedroom and how much you
want me?”

The next seconds are a blur.

I drop to my knees in front of her,
trailing my thumb up her. She bites her lower
lip,
her
dark-green eyes are lit with excitement as I lean in, inhaling her.
Everything that had slowed pauses for a moment when I circle my
nose against the thin fabric.

She groans, grinding against me, and
from that moment on we speed up.

I lift her into my arms and carry her
to the massive bed across the room. I toss her down, running my hands up the
side of her thighs and hooking my fingers in her underwear, dragging them down,
pulling each boot through the leg hole. Then I spread her legs open
wide,
to the point her fragrance owns all the air around me.

She smells sweet, like honey.

When I lower my face, brushing soft
kisses on her inner thighs and soft lips, she moans, moving like she’s trying
to force me to lick the center but I don’t. I torment her longer, running my
hands up and down her legs, touching and grazing until she’s writhing.

She lifts her head, her eyes fill with
ferocity, and then I bury my mouth into the heat we’ve created.

She cries out, her chest arching and
her stomach moving with the rhythm I work her to. I can’t wait to be inside her
but the moment she orgasms she’s up, dragging me to my feet and hauling down my
pants. She drops to her knees, ripping my boxers down to mine. She backs away
from my cock as it bobs in her face. She glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“I ate my Wheaties when I was a kid,” I
offer weakly.

She wraps her hand around it, caressing
to the base before flicking the tip with her tongue. Heat tingles the head as
she leans in more, wrapping her lips around and lowering as best she can. She
gets half of me in her and strokes the other half, dragging her spit down until
her hand is sliding easily.

My head falls back as my thighs clench
and my hands find their way into her hair, tangling in the bun she’s wearing.

We just get to a good place pace-wise
when she pulls back, stands up and spins us, pushing me back on the bed.

“I thought you wanted me to show you
how much better I am in a bed.” I chuckle, a little surprised by the response,
considering
the conversation we had.

“Oh, this is your chance. The foreplay
isn’t where I want improvement.” She climbs into my lap—tutu, boots,
sweater, and everything.

Sitting up, I drag the sweater off,
cupping her bra with one hand and holding her in my lap with the other. She
reaches up, pulling her hair from the bun and shaking her head to unleash her
mane. The scent of shampoo tickles my nose as she lowers to kiss me. It’s
gentle and soft, maybe because of the bruising and cuts.

Her lips taste like gloss and her
perfume. Everything about her smells sweet.

She wraps her hands around my head,
gripping me. Mid exhale I reach down, toss on the condom and maneuver my cock
between her legs, feeling for the right spot. When I hit it she lowers slowly,
taking a deep breath consisting mostly of moans.

I reach
around,
cupping and squeezing her ass cheeks, helping her lift and lower. She starts
slowly, taking long strides up and down me. We kiss, we lick, we bite,
we
fuck.

Her breasts heave and swell with her
gasps as she arches her back, rotating her hips and riding me.

I want to come the moment I get inside
her, but thank the gods I’m wearing a condom so I won’t look like I have no
staying power.

She starts to bob, quickening and
biting her lip as she bounces on my balls.

I ignore the agony of holding my balls
back from wanting to finish the job, and just watch her. A look of pleasure
mixes with torment as she gets close to orgasm. She wants it. The sweat on her
brow glistens like sparkles and I believe she is the sort of girl who actually
perspires glitter.

Her lush lips purse when she tightens
on me, forcing my orgasm with hers. I can’t believe I’m coming so soon but
watching her orgasm is amazing. She finishes, slumping on me as she fights for
her breath. Her forehead leans against my cheek, pushing on a bruise from my
broken nose but I don’t care.

I grip to her, jerking everything I
have into the last couple of strokes.

We’re messy and the condom is slipping off,
but I don’t move or say a thing. She lifts her face, smirking. “You have a
great penis.”

“It’s a fan of yours.”

“Yeah?” She smiles wide.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna play checkers?” She cocks an
eyebrow.

“I can’t think of another thing I’d
rather do.”

“Okay, let’s get cleaned up and I’ll
get the board.” She climbs off and hurries away, leaving me to pinch myself
through the surreal moment.

The Wizard of Lies

Sami

He kings his man, giving me the shitty
grin I adore.

“Whatever, I’m rusty. We haven’t played
in a while.” I roll my eyes.

“You lose poorly, just in case you were
ever wondering.”

“I beat you at chess, that’s the harder
game.”

“If that helps you sleep at night.” He
laughs and makes his move.

“It does.” I reach forward and pinch
his arm, pulling the hair a bit.

“Ow!” He chuckles harder.

“Are you hungry?” I ask as my stomach
rumbles for the tenth time.

“I bet there’s lasagna, isn’t there?”

“I don’t know.” I get up, pulling on my
robe over the shorts and tee shirt in case anyone is still up downstairs.

“Well, let’s go see.” He lifts me into
his arms and flings me over his shoulder as I squeal.

“Put me down!”

He slaps me on the butt once hard and places
me down, spinning me like we’re dancing. “You’re prettier like this,” he says
when I stop spinning.

“Like what?”

“You barely have any makeup on and your
hair’s all messy and your clothes are frumpy.” He lowers his lips to mine. “And
you’re smiling.”

I squeeze his hand and turn back for
the bedroom.

“Round two already? You don’t want food
first?” He jokes but I drag him to the bathroom. When I flick on the light he
grimaces. “That’s bright.”

“I want you to get the full behind-the-curtain
effect.” I snicker, pulling my hair up into a messy bun. I grab a cotton pad
and pump it into the top of the makeup remover. “You boys are so gullible.” I
run the pad over my entire face, dirtying it and getting a new one. I leave it face
up on the counter so he can see the horror show. I scrub the mascara, peeling
my false lashes off.

“Jesus!” He jumps back.

“Right.” I fling the eyelash on the
counter next to the black-and-blue streaked pad, next to the foundation-covered
one. On pad three it starts coming up clear so I rinse my face, wash it, and
spritz with toner. I finish with lotion and a sigh. “That feels better.”

His expression is a mix of horror and
confusion. “Oh my God.”

“Still think I’m prettier like this?” I
laugh, glancing at the red blotchy skin I have due to the scrubbing.

“Uhhh, yeah?” It comes out as more of a
question.

“I’m seriously feeling tricked, not
just by you, but like every girl I’ve ever met.”

“The girls who look like they’re wearing
the least are wearing the most.” I wink. “Now you’ve seen behind the curtain.
There’s no wizard, it’s all fake.”

“I feel sick.” He jokes and swings an
arm over my shoulders. “Now I really need some lasagna.”

“No, Beast, you need me to do your
makeup tomorrow so you look regular.”

“What is with this ‘Beast’ nonsense?” He
nudges me.

“You’re a beast, we both know it.”

“I know no such thing.” He pulls me in
tighter. “Unless that means
you’re
Belle, then I guess
it makes sense.”

“Honestly, if anyone was going to be
Belle it would be Nat. She’s such a nerd.”

“She is kind of a Belle, isn’t she?” He
chuckles. “You’re my Belle though.”

“I’m more of a Rapunzel, but like the
one from
Tangled.”

“You hit people with frying pans?”

“No. I’m always worried about my parents
and their reactions, and then I do irrational things to spite and vex them and later
worry about winning them back. It’s confusing for me to want to rebel but want
their approval at the same time.”

“Do I ever know this story.
”
He leads me to the kitchen and spins me again, this time
so I land in a seat at the bar.

“Okay, let’s see what we have to munch
on.” He opens the fridge, nodding. “Impressive.” He pulls out the lasagna, the
weird sex cheesecake dessert he made that was delicious, and a large slab-of-wood
cheeseboard.

“Your fridge must look the same?”

“It is, but it’s more like party food
in case my parents surprise attack the house. Caviar and champagne and weird
buffalo cheese.”

“Gross. I hate buffalo cheese. It’s so
slimy.”

“Me too. My gran, the one who’s the fan
of fridges that are stocked to the point of disgusting, would like this one.
She’d approve. Her pantry is terrifying. But she never has to worry about not
having food. It doesn’t matter if the entire state shows up for a meal, she’s
got it.” He puts the pasta in the microwave and then places the cheese board
next to me with the box of crackers Cecilia left on the counter. “Why do I get
the impression you don’t know where the food is?” He lifts a hand. “Wait. I
think I’m good at this. Your chef leaves the crackers out for you when she makes
a cheeseboard, so of course you never have to look for them. No wait—normally
she gets up and makes you the food at all hours of the night, and this board of
food was just a convenience for her, not you. You don’t even heat up your own
leftovers, do you?”

I lift an eyebrow, forcing a sneer.

“So she gets up, rifles the fridge for
the premade snacks, feeds you, and then Nadia tucks you into bed?” He gives me
the grin I love. “How right am I?”

“Whatever.” I snap my eyelids down and
look to the right.

“You are a princess, we both know it.”

“And you’re a beast.” I grin back,
batting my eyelashes.

“And if I’m being totally honest, I
can’t believe the difference in your face without makeup.” He looks stunned.

“Oh my God, that’s rude.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. You’re still
pretty, just a different kind. Usually, you’re like an Austen Powers Fembot.
Very Stepford-pretty.
A little too perfect is what I mean.
So this is a better look. You look like someone I could be
friends
with. Actually, your friendship with Natalie makes more sense now. You’re a
human being.”

“Wow!” I sit back on the barstool.

“Even Christmas morning you had makeup
on.” He tilts his head. “I mean, that is some hardcore makeup-ing.”

“You’re a dick. You don’t get any
cheeseboard now.” I pull it to me, and point at the fridge. “Grab the red
pepper jelly though please. Cecilia must have forgotten that.”

He narrows his gaze. “I’m not getting
the jelly.”

I get up and walk to the fridge,
watching him the entire time. He reaches for the cheese and meat. I swat at
him.

He turns, grabbing me and forcing a
stinky kiss on my cheek.

“I hate you!” I fake cry, wiping my
face.

He pins my arms, kissing the other
side, breathing the prosciutto on me in exaggerated words, “Whaaaaaat? Are you
okayyyyyyy?”

“You’re the meanest boy in the whole
world.”

“Oh, you mean
beast-like?”
He laughs and kisses my pouting lip.

“No. I take it back. Beasts are nice.
You’re a Gaston.” I struggle to get free and grab the red pepper jelly.

“Admit it, you always had a small
Gaston fantasy.” He snickers as he gets the lasagna out and passes me a fork.
We eat from the dish like I do at Nat’s. Me, sitting on the counter in my
shorts, tee shirt, and robe; and him, in his pajama pants but
bare
chested. He brought an overnight bag this time. He
tells me stories about normal-people things, his cheeks puffed up with food as
he waves his arms around and his still mildly puffy eyes widen.

It’s the best date night ever.

The fight in the limo is forgotten in the
admission we both sort of suck sometimes.

When we head back upstairs he clings to
me, kissing my neck and whispering, “I’m sorry about the limo. I never thought
about it the way you do. It makes me sick to think about it.”

“It’s not okay, but I forgive you.”

“And although it’s also not okay, I
forgive you for basically lying with your Christmas morning makeup. So we’re
good then.”

I slug him in the stomach getting a
grunt from him. “Not even close.”