Pucked (23 page)

“
You can drive me to work in the morning.”

Alex post-sex is a hungry man. He stands in the kitchen—which is surprisingly clean for a bachelor—wearing only his pants, with the door to the fridge wide open. After pouring me a glass of orange juice, he chugs the rest straight from the jug. Hydration is sexy.

Then he proceeds to empty half the contents of the fridge onto a plate and shove it in the microwave. I’m not hungry, so I sit on his lap while he inhales a plateful of carbs. I’m only wearing his T-shirt. My dress is in the wash with my bra and panties. Alex struggled with the whole delicate cycle thing and admitted he has a housekeeper who does the bulk of his cleaning, including his laundry.

When the plate is empty, he grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and leads me upstairs.

His room is huge and simply furnished. The bed is rustic, crafted out of solid wood. The dark sheets are rumpled, as if he was in a rush this morning, or this evening.

“
Your bed is huge.”

“
I told you it would’ve been more comfortable. I’m sure there’ll be other opportunities.”

The bathroom is very fêng shui with beige tile, a glassed-in shower, and Jacuzzi tub. It’s not as tidy as the rest of the house. His shaving kit and a few hair products line the counter. The cap is off his toothpaste, and a towel lies in a heap on the floor near the shower. It’s lived in but not a complete sty.

Alex finds me a new toothbrush and leaves me to freshen up. I’m prepared for the possibility he’ll want to make use of the bed before sleep. I don’t usually stay up this late on week nights, and I definitely don’t get this much exercise. After four orgasms I’m not sure my body or my brain is equipped to deal with another round of “fill the beaver hole.”

Once I finish with the oral hygiene, I join him in his king-size bed. It’s much like its own continent; I could sleep here and we’d never touch. Except the moment I slip under the sheets, he pulls me into him.

I lie with my head on his chest, listening to the powerful, steady beat of his heart. He tells me about the lineup of games for the next two weeks, the teams he’s confident they’ll beat, and the wins they’ll have to work hard for. The second-to-last game is in Toronto, near his home town.

Alex keeps running soothing fingers through my hair. The last thing I remember are his lips on my forehead and his rumbling laugh when I tell him he’s warm and cuddly like a hairless, domesticated bear.

I must pass out hard-core. When I wake up, the sun is peeking through the curtains. I check the clock on the nightstand. It’s not even seven. I have loads of time to get ready. Alex is sleeping peacefully beside me. I turn on my side to study him.

I’ve hogged the sheets, which has left his torso exposed. I run my hand down his chest, marveling at the soft skin covering the solid wall of muscle. Even relaxed, he’s hard all over.

I continue my sensory descent, enjoying the feel of him under my fingers. He’s sound asleep, so I figure why not check things out. I lift the band of his boxers and take a wee gander. His monster cock looks much more innocuous in this state.

It lays on his abdomen, angled slightly to the left. It’s almost cute—kind of like Snuffleupagus. Well, not really. It’s huge, but not hairy, and also not nearly as daunting as when it’s hard. It is magical, though. I stifle a giggle because, goddamn it, I’ve never seen a snuffie up close. The head is tucked up inside the soft skin, an eye peering out from the turtleneck.

Alex is oblivious to my peter peeping, so I carefully shimmy his boxers down. I want to look at it without the risk of the waistband snapping against the head. I need my hands free to touch. It would also be cool to see if it grows like those things you order out of an old school comic book. The ones that go from pill sized to huge in a glass of water. Except I assume this will happen much faster. I haven’t had the privilege of seeing Alex’s dick grow yet. It’s always been hard when I get to it.

I poke at it. Alex expels a heavy breath, and his hand twitches at his side. Being extra careful not to jostle Alex, I rearrange myself slowly so I’m cross-legged beside him. This time I gently run my fingertips along the length. The skin wrinkles as I go. This is the best.

It’s equally fun to play with when it’s soft and sleepy as it is when it’s hard. Sliding my hand under the shaft, I close my palm around it. My fingers touch each other and he’s squishy, like a sea cucumber. Those creatures are a demonstration of God’s fixation with wieners.

Alex starts to rouse, as does his monster cock. Soon he’ll wake and end my alone time with the MC. I stroke down; the wrinkly skin retracts and the head pops out. Stroking up, the entire head disappears. It’s like a game of peek-a-boo with a penis.

Alex moans, and this time his pelvis lifts. He’s not fully conscious, so I lay his dick on his stomach. Then I take the foreskin covering the head and roll it to the tip. Pressing it together, I pretend it’s a mouth and move it around like it’s talking to me. A giggle bubbles up and bursts free. I try to hold it in, so it comes out my nose, sounding like a sneeze.

I look up as Alex’s eyes flutter open. “What are you doing?”

Hmm, well, that’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for. “I’m playing with the monster cock. Well, actually, I’m playing with his foreskin,” I say as if the MC is a person, not an appendage.

I stop messing around and smooth out his turtleneck, stroking the shaft. Alex’s eyes close, and he releases a long, low groan. The monster cock grows perceptibly in my hand. Neato. I do it again. This time it twitches and grows some more. It’s fascinating to watch the skin stretch and smooth out until it is tight, moving fractionally with each stroke.

As soon as Alex is fully erect I look up. Ooooh, judging from his expression, I’m getting lucky this morning. He shoves his boxers down his legs and kicks them off while I lose my shirt. We’re both gloriously naked. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him.

I turn my head so he meets my jaw instead of my lips. I can taste the sourness of sleep in my mouth. It’s not sexy at all.

“
Give me a minute.” I slip out of his grasp, intent on getting to the bathroom before he unleashes the beast on me. I’m no match for his speed, even half-asleep. Alex’s arm locks around my waist, and I find myself stomach-down on the bed, his body covering mine. He’s a quick fucker. Not literally. He takes his time with the important stuff.

His now-raging hard-on rests against the small of my back and—oh God, there’s no way in hell—it’s right there, between my ass cheeks. Sliding and . . . huh, it doesn’t feel bad at all. Regardless, the MC will never fit in there.

The connection between my mouth and brain are faulty, as usual, and I shout, “Exit only! It’s exit only!”

Oh. My. God. How mortifying is this?

Alex freezes and then laughs.

“
That’s not a first sleepover kind of activity.”

“
Wait! What?” I wish I sounded less like a prepubescent boy with his balls caught in a zipper.

“
I’m kidding, Violet. I may have thought about it, but it’s not like I could accidently slip it in there.”

My ass cheeks clench in defiance as he passes door number two. “You’ve
thought
about it?” No one has ever so much as grazed my Hole That Shall Not Be Penetrated.

This may not be the best time for such discussions. The tip of Alex’s cock is currently pressing up against the Hole That Shall Be Penetrated Very Soon, and I’m delaying progress by talking about things that will
never
happen.

“
Thinking and doing are very different, Violet.” His hand slips between the sheet and my body. He circles my clit, then moving lower, he pushes two fingers inside and pumps slowly, his erection bumping against his hand.

His fingers disappear only to be replaced by my favorite appendage. I think I might lose my mind as he eases inside; this position is like hurtling myself into Stimulation Station.

My moaning starts up full force. It’s high-pitched, like a cat in heat, so I bury my face in the sheets. Alex’s chest is against my back, his legs on either side of mine, keeping them pressed tightly together.

“
Is it okay?”

I whimper because it is the only sound I can make. I feel so full. Fuller than I’ve ever been. Every stroke is magnified—divine.

“
Is it too much, baby?”

Oh God, he’s calling me baby. I might come on the spot. He’s unmoving except for his lips against my shoulder. The bones at his hips press against my ass. His breath caresses my cheek, and I feel the slight tremor in his body as he holds his weight above me.

“
Not too much. It’s so good.” I grip the sheets beside my head. Alex’s hands cover mine.

“
You ready for me?”

I’ve been ready since I woke up and shared private time with the monster cock. “Please. Yes.”

He starts to move, and the head of his cock hits the spot. The
so good
turns into damn well fabulous. I can’t believe I doubted the existence of the elusive spot. It’s magically orgasmic. The word vomit won’t stop, so I keep my face mashed into the sheets. Only the pillow hears how good it feels, repeatedly.

It’s one of those positions where I’m right on the cusp of release. My inability to move or get to my orgasm switch prevents me from reaching the target. Alex must be psychic, or it’s possible he can tell by the pitch and frequency of my moans I’m getting close. He nudges my knees apart, urging me onto all fours.

If I was close to an orgasm before, it’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling now. Alex pops my hips out, changing the angle. His palm settles on the base of my spine, and he smoothes a path to the nape of my neck as his hips meet my ass.

“
How’s this, baby?”

My wordless noise seems to be a sufficient answer. The beaver button is on red alert. His hand strokes along my side, moving over my hip and lower to tease sensitive skin. I’ve been straddling the line since we started. He rubs my clit at the same time as he thrusts again. I’m done for; I explode into a shuddering, moaning mess.

“
That’s right, you come for
me
,” he says as though he’s scored a goal. I suppose he has. Or I have, or he’s scored the goal for me. Any way you look at it, a goal has been scored thanks to the skills of his monster cock and those nimble fingers of his.

I take control of the bean flicking, aware if I keep the pressure on I might come again. I’m stockpiling Alex-induced orgasms for beaver slapping material when he’s away.

This time Alex goes over the edge right after me. He collapses onto his side, taking me with him. He’s sweaty, but I’m too languid to mind. Besides, it’s a testament to how hard he worked to get me off. Twice.

We lie there for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow.

“
What do you want for breakfast? Should we stop on the way to your work?”

At the mention of food, my stomach growls as if it has a wild boar hibernating inside. While this particular round of sex wasn’t taxing for me aside from the orgasms, I’m hungry.

“
What were you thinking?” I would give my left nipple for a bowl of Cookie Crisp or even those chocolate peanut butter Pop-Tarts. On the other hand, a couple of Krispy Kreme donuts would hit the spot, too.

“
There’s an awesome buffet not far from here.” Of course the hockey player wants unlimited food options.

Watching him eat a meal unhindered by things such as portion sizes would be entertaining, I’m sure.

“
As amazing as it sounds, a buffet will probably make me late for work.”

“
I can make you something quick. I don’t have a whole lot since I’ll be gone for the next couple of weeks.”

“
I like almost anything.” I stand and stretch, stiff from all the sexing. “Do you have Pop-Tarts?”

“
Uh, no. I don’t eat Pop-Tarts during the season.”