Pucked: Pucked Over Part 38

He says quietly, "I haven't been with anyone but you since we fooled around in the summer. No one."

"No one?" I'm kind of stunned. Okay, I'm a lot stunned.

"There was that one girl at the bar who kept touching my arm, but all I could think about was you, and then you showed up. I was so relieved and terrified at the same time because I knew I was your rebound. I think I wanted it to be something else even back then; I just didn't realize it yet. Or I didn't want to see it." He exhales a long, slow breath. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did when you brought up how things were getting intense, but you said you'd say something if it got to be too much, and you didn't, and neither did I, and I panicked."

"I see that now."

"I don't know if you still have those feelings, or if what I said made them disappear, but I still want you. I mean, I want to be with you-and not just for s.e.x. If this is moving too fast and you need this to not have a label, we can do that." He pauses, his eyes wide, and then he shakes his head. "That's not true. I want a label. I want to be in a relationship with you."

"A relationship?" I sound like an idiot. I'm still reeling over the fact that we often went more than a month without seeing each other, and he wasn't s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g bunnies. I mean, of course I'd hoped he wasn't with bunnies, but I didn't expect exclusivity, what with it being casual-or not, apparently, on either side.

"Yeah." He nods once.

"You haven't been with any bunnies since the summer?"

"Not one."

"Why?"

"Because I only wanted you. Sorry, I mean want, present tense."

"Wow. You went weeks at a time without p.u.s.s.y."

"I jerked off a lot."

"I bet." I glance down at his crotch. He's definitely got some happy going on down there. He's still holding my wrist, and his thumb brushes back and forth over the skin, soothing, warming. "So you want to date me?"

"No, I want you to be my girlfriend."

"You're going for the big-gun label, eh?"

"Go big or go home, right?" He tugs me toward him. "So? You want to give it a shot?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes. Definitely."

His smile makes my heart all melty. I don't realize he's coming in for a kiss until his mouth is almost on mine. I slide a hand between our faces so he gets my knuckles instead of my lips. "I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"I don't really care."

"My mouth tastes like cheese d.i.c.k."

"How do you know what cheese d.i.c.k tastes like?"

"You've seen Benji. His beard matches his b.a.l.l.s." I'm pretty sure I ruined what's supposed to be our first official couple kiss by talking about my ex's ungroomed ball sac.

Randy pulls a face. "That's f.u.c.kin' nasty."

"Sorry, pretend I didn't say that."

"Too late."

He pulls a pack of mints from his pocket, pops one out, and pushes it between my fingers and into my mouth. I chew it a couple of times, rub all the little minty bits over my tongue and swallow. Water would be good, but since I don't have any, I'll have to manage. I drop my hand. "'Kay. Ready."

Randy gives me that s.e.xy grin that makes my panties want to crawl off my body and into his pocket. Except I'm not wearing any. All my girl parts get tingly as soon as he cups my face in his palms. He smoothes his thumb along the contour of my bottom lip, wiping away a mint crumb. Then he leans in.

I can't help myself. I still don't understand what it is about him, but all I want is to hump all over him the second he starts touching me. I immediately shove my tongue in his mouth and moan. His laugh is m.u.f.fled by my tongue thrusts.

Whatever. It's been a couple of weeks, and I've been all mopey and heartbroken. Now I'm s.e.xed up and excited. I have a boyfriend-a hot one, with a bada.s.s happy-face d.i.c.k. I hold on to the back of his neck and stroke him through his jeans.

He's hard, and I want to feel that between my legs since now it's mine. Exclusively. I kick off my floppy slippers and get ready to either straddle him or pull him down. Both will work fine.

The knock on the window reminds me we're in a car, and it's eight in the morning, so there's no cover of darkness. We're also parked in front of my apartment building. I separate my face from Randy's, ready to flip off whoever's interrupting our make-up make-out session. Except it's my mom.

So instead of swearing at her with hand gestures, I roll down the window. "Hey, Mom."

She presses her hand against her chest and heaves what appears to be a relieved sigh. "For a second I thought that was Benji."

"Uh, no." I gesture to Randy. "As you can see, definitely not Benji."

My mom looks him over as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "No. Definitely not."

Randy waves. "Hi." His face is beet red.

"Mom, you remember Randy. Randy, you remember my mom, Iris." Wow. Talk about awkward.

"Of course I remember Randy. What a nice surprise. You two should go inside. I know the apartment's a bit of a mess, but it's cold out."

The way she phrases it doesn't give us much of an option, so Randy cuts the engine, surrept.i.tiously rearranges his hard-on, zips his jacket, and gets out. My mom gives me a kiss on the cheek. "Nice to see you again, Randy. I hope this means we'll be able to catch up another time."

"Where're you going?" I ask.

"Work, honey. It's Monday."

"Oh."

"You two behave yourselves." She pats Randy on the arm and leaves us on our own.

Randy picks up the box I dropped when I chased after his car and tucks it under one arm. I thread my fingers through his.

He follows me to the elevator. We're the only two people in it, so I take advantage of the situation by tongue-f.u.c.king his mouth again. Randy pulls me against him via my a.s.s, doing what he does best: the clothed humping. We pry ourselves away from each other when the elevator dings. The door slides open, and I take his hand again, dragging him down the hall. I'm all thumbs with the key, struggling to get it in the lock.

"Let me do that," he murmurs.

I let go, and he takes over, sliding the key in the lock and easing the door open. As soon as we're inside I'm on him again, pulling at his jacket, trying to unzip his pants.

Randy puts his hands on my shoulders. "Lily."

"Winter sucks for layers."

He pushes me back. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" I yank his belt free from the clasp.

He puts his hand over mine, as if that's going to stop me. "That."

I don't hear anything, so I go with snark. "It's the sound of my p.u.s.s.y crying for your c.o.c.k."

Randy laughs, then groans as I pop the b.u.t.ton and slide my hand inside his boxers, finding him rock hard. "There's water running."

I pause, still holding his d.i.c.k, and listen intently. "s.h.i.t."

"Who's here?"

"Tim-Tom.

"Who."

"My other boyfriend."

Randy's expression goes dark.

"Sorry. Sorry, that was a terrible joke. I'll never, ever say anything like that again. It's my mom's boyfriend. I thought he went home last night." Still holding Randy's d.i.c.k, I tiptoe down the hall and peek around the corner. He has no choice but to follow.

The water's still running, so we can definitely make it to my room without Tim-Tom knowing we're in here. I let go of Randy's man rod and motion to the door across the hall from the bathroom. I tiptoe stealthily, and Randy clomps across the parquet floor with his boots on. It's smart not to leave evidence of his presence behind, apart from wet boot prints, that is.

I pull him into my room by his jacket, lock the door, and frantically undress him. "What're you doing?" he asks.

"Getting you naked. What does it look like?" Like, duh.

"Your mom's boyfriend's here."

"So? They bone while I'm here all the time. We'll be quiet. If I get loud you can put a hand over my mouth; I kinda like that."

He stands there blinking at me like maybe I've gone a little crazy, so I pull my sweatshirt and tank top over my head and push my flannel moose pants down over my hips. And voila, I'm naked. It does the trick. Randy shrugs out of his jacket and takes off his hoodie and T-shirt. I shove his pants and underwear down his thighs and drop to my knees.

"Look at him! He's so happy to see me, grinning like a fool."

Randy laughs and inhales as I trace the scar with a gentle finger.

I don't bother with a warm-up. It's unnecessary and a waste of time. All I want is to lube up his c.o.c.k and get it inside me. The best way to accomplish that is by s...o...b..ring all over it. Or putting as much of it in my mouth as I can and sucking, whichever sounds cla.s.sier.

I lick along the shaft and engulf the head. I look up as I take more of him in. Randy's mouth drops open, and his hands go into my hair. I hold on to his a.s.s, and he cradles my head. I suck as if b.l.o.w. .j.o.bs are an Olympic event, and I'm going for the gold medal.

"Holy f.u.c.k, Lily." Randy puts a hand on the wall to steady himself.

His knees buckle at my loud slurping noise. Guys are so funny about having their c.o.c.k in a mouth, and based on Randy's previous experiences, I'm turning into his blow-job G.o.ddess.

All my hot spots are lighting up like a Vegas slot machine when Randy fists my hair and pulls me off. A string of saliva connects the head to my bottom lip. From my perspective it's gross, but Randy's a guy, and for whatever reason, they seem to like all the suction sounds and bodily fluids.

He bends over me, panting, muscles straining. His c.o.c.k is inches from my face. He's still holding the wall with one hand and my hair with the other. I won't lie. It's superhot. I may be on my knees, but I'm definitely the one with all the power. I run my hands up his thighs and bite my bottom lip, being coy. I trace the white line across his hip, then sweep a single finger all the way down the shaft, over the smiley scar, to the tip. Randy's eyes roll up, and he shudders.

"Are you going to f.u.c.k me now?" I'm saccharine sweet about it.

He pulls me up by my hair and crushes his mouth to mine. Oh, man. This is going to be some serious get-back-together-now-I'm-his-girlfriend s.e.x. He must forget that his pants are still around his ankles, because he stumbles and has to shuffle to the bed. We fall in a heap on the mattress. My comforter is a rumpled mess, and I didn't even bother to put my suitcase on the floor before I went to bed last night, so I had to sleep on an angle.

We slither-flop up the bed so half our bodies aren't hanging off the end. Randy's heavy on top of me. His c.o.c.k is nestled in tight between my legs. And of course, he's already started with the wet-humping.

At this point I've stopped being surprised by how quickly he makes me come. I think it's just the way we are together. With the next roll of his hips, the head rubs my c.l.i.t. I dig my nails into his a.s.s and arch. He slips low. The head breaches the v.a.g.i.n.a Emporium's front door.

Randy breaks the kiss, and we do the stare off. We don't need actual words to convey the question we're both silently asking. Is it okay? Can we do this without a condom? He hasn't had s.e.x with anyone else in a long time.

"I'm clean." Randy cringes, embarra.s.sed. It says more than his rea.s.surance. "I'll get a condom."

"It's okay."

"You're sure." He sinks in a little more.

"I've been on the pill forever."

Randy's hands are on my face. He goes deeper, maybe testing out whether or not I'm serious. I don't stop him, so he keeps going. His groan is loud and low. "Don't judge me if I come fast."

"As long as I come before you do, we're good."

"No promises."

His back expands and contracts with every breath. He's definitely not in control. His entire body is trembling. I lock my legs around his hips and skim his cheek with my fingertips. "Hey."

His eyes flip up to mine.

"Be with me."

He releases a sharp exhale and starts to move. It's not some gentle, let's-make-love bulls.h.i.t. It's hip-slamming, bed-creaking, full-out make-up f.u.c.king. There's no way we're being quiet. I'll be surprised if we don't break my bed. Thankfully, I don't need it in Chicago.

We can't kiss because the pounding is too vigorous. All I can do is hold on while he goes ballistic. It's awesome. I come twice and bite the s.h.i.t out of his shoulder. We're rocking the bed so much my suitcase falls to the floor with a loud crash.

Randy slows down with the knock on my door. "Everything okay in there?" It's Tim-Tom. I guess he's out of the shower.

"It's fine. I dropped my suitcase!" I call.

Randy's face is buried in my neck, and his shoulders are shaking.

"Need any help?"

"Nope. I'm good! Thanks, Tim!"