Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

I don’t need him to know my life isn’t as easy as his. Then he might feel like he needs to “save me” or “take care of me” or something like that. It’ll make things weird. Well, weirder than this casual-sex thing that apparently includes lunch dates. I need to learn more about how this works.

If I start telling Randy about my life and the crappy stuff, it’ll be less about having a good time. I don’t need that either. Also, I have no idea if my mom’s at home, and she definitely cannot meet Randy. Ever. And the fact that I’m almost twenty-two, have finished university, and still live with my mom is another reason we won’t be stopping to get me a change of clothes, even though I could use one.

I make a face I hope is convincing. “I live on the other side of town. It takes forever to get there. Plus there’s construction, and you’d have to go the long way around. I’m not even that hungry.”

Randy taps on the headrest beside my ear. “We could go back to my hotel room and order room service.”

“You have a hotel room?”

He shrugs. “I figured maybe you’d wanna hang out again after your other shift, so I got a room.”

“Hang out? In your hotel room?”

I can’t tell whether his grin is sheepish or smug. “We could have a sleepover, with a naked pillow fight and everything.”

“Those are my favorite!” I clap my hands together and bounce in my seat.

“Awesome.” His smile widens. “Mine, too.”

But seriously, if he wants to have a naked pillow fight with me, I’m all over that. After my legs are shaved.

Randy fiddles with his phone and the GPS, and we hit the road. I’m super nervous. This is different than spontaneous bathroom make-out sessions followed by sex. This is planned. On his part.

I ask him to stop at a Shopper’s Drug Mart, the Canadian equivalent of a CVS. I buy a three-pack of the nice razors, soap, oil for my sensitive parts, deodorant, gum, a Listerine pocket pack, a toothbrush, a pack of those insanely huge condoms he uses, a hair brush, and some candy, just because. If they sold underwear, I’d be all set. I pass the Depends and consider, for a second, if they’re better than going commando. No. Never. Maybe I can wash my dirty pair in the sink and let them dry overnight.

Oh, God. I’m having a sleepover with Randy. I doubt there’ll be much sleeping. I rush back to the Jeep, my purse filled with important junk.

“Got what you needed?” he asks as I climb back in the passenger side.

“Yup.”

“Awesome. Let’s hit the hotel.” The way he says that, combined with the way he’s looking at me, makes me think room service is going to be last on the to-do list.

Guelph isn’t a big place. It doesn’t boast much in the way of quality hotels, so the best he can do is the Hilton, but Randy’s managed to secure the nicest room. It has a huge king bed and a couch I’m not sure we’ll need, considering the bed is enormous and there’s a TV on the wall across from it. We can watch while we take breaks from our sex-a-thon.

The second the door closes, Randy has me pressed against the wall with my face in his hands. His mouth crashes down on mine, tongue sliding along the seam. He groans, the sound deep and needy. Sweet mother of wet vagina, these sweats are going to need a wash after we’re done.

As is typical with Randy, his knee goes between mine, and he immediately starts with the slow hip circles. If I don’t stop him, he’s going to take off my clothes. I’d be totally cool with this if I didn’t need to manage my leg issues first.

I push on his chest. He backs off right away, steps out of my personal space, and exhales a harsh breath. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, I’ve kinda been waiting for that to happen. It took you long enough to kiss me. I figured you’d have at least tried to make out with me in the car, or go for a boob grab. I just need to use the bathroom.”

“I can come with you if you need help holding something.”

“That’s a nice offer, but I can handle this on my own. I’ll only be a minute.” I pick my purse up off the floor where I dropped it, thanks to the brief hump-off.

“I’ll be waiting.” Randy adjusts his erection, in case I’m confused about what he’ll be waiting for.

I close the door, lock it, and turn on the fan, but it doesn’t work. Damn it. How am I going to be incognito about this if I don’t have a fan? I turn on the water and dump out the contents of my purse. The package of razors is adult-proof, so I have to fight to get it open. I don’t know why they make them so hard to get into.