Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

Alex makes a noise, but dips his head and kisses her lips. “Me too. I hate being gone more than a week.” He rubs his nose against hers. It’s so sweet I want to gag. “You know I don’t drive The Colonel in the winter, baby.”

“I changed purses and couldn’t find my keys. I’m sorry.” Violet pushes away from him and his eyes go back to her rack. “Oh, the buttons on this shirt are the worst. I’ll put these away until later.” She winks.

“I can help.” Alex sticks his finger into her cleavage.

Charlene gives me a raised eyebrow and slams her car door shut. Alex jumps, like he’s just realized we’re all here. “Hey! Hi!” He jams his hands in his pocket and turns to the side. It doesn’t hide what’s happening in his pants. He untucks his shirt to cover the issue.

There’s a flurry of action and hugs, then Alex yells out for a hand bringing bags inside. I get as far as the hallway before I’m tackle-hugged by Randy. He lifts me right off my feet and buries his face in my neck.

“Hi.” I giggle-moan at the feel of his beard and his lips parting against my skin.

“I can’t wait to go to pussy prison,” he murmurs in my ear.

And just like that, I’m ready to get undressed and take him. Except we’re standing in Alex’s hallway, and our friends are here. Randy spins around and for a second I think I’m going to end up against a wall. Instead he carries me down the hall.

Everyone’s staring. Lance is slack-jawed. Miller’s got a frown going on, and Alex’s expression matches. Darren cocks an eyebrow.

“No way, Balls!” Miller shouts. “You and Lily aren’t allowed in bathrooms together!”

Randy doesn’t listen. He sidesteps through a door. It’s not a bathroom, though; it’s a laundry room. He tries to shut the door, but Miller’s leaning against it. He makes Alex look small and Randy skinny, which he’s definitely not.

Randy leans back, his arms straining. “I need a little something right here.” He sets me down and taps his lips.

I push my fingers through his hair. It’s grown out in the past two weeks, hitting below his cheekbones. I rise up on my toes and press a soft kiss to his mouth.

“Seriously, Balls, can’t you wait, like, five minutes?” Miller asks.

“I’m just saying hello, and I’m looking for a little privacy to do that.” Randy gives the door a hard shove with his shoulder. Miller shouts and Randy turns the lock. “And now we have some.”

His smile holds anything but humor as he lifts me up and sets me on the dryer. It’s the perfect height. I part my legs and scootch forward so I can feel his hard-on. And he’s definitely hard. Randy leaves wet kisses on my neck as he cuts a path up to my mouth.

“You’re terrible.”

“I know. We don’t have to stay here long—like fifteen minutes, and then we can go back to my place where we can play until you have to go back to Canadia.”

Miller knocks on the door. Or maybe it’s Alex. I don’t care. All I know is Randy’s tongue is in my mouth, looking for something to tangle with.

“Why’re you wearing pants? They’re so inconvenient,” he complains.

I laugh into his mouth and wrap my legs around his waist. He’s dry-humping the hell out of me, and the seam of my jeans is hitting the right spot. Like that time in the bathroom at the exhibition game, I get that shimmery feeling—the one where I’m sure if we keep going I’ll probably come. Randy finds his way under my shirt. Tickling along my ribs, he slides his finger under my bra until he reaches my nipple.

“I seriously need you naked. It’s not even funny.”

I keep rubbing up on him, grinding harder. I’m whimpering and yanking on his hair. Randy breaks the kiss to look at me. “You’re gonna come aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

He gives me that smile I used to love-hate and now I just want to suck off his face. With my vagina. “I should be inside you for that.”

That’s all it takes—and the friction, and the way he pinches my nipple. The orgasm slams into me like a linebacker on crack. It’s a toe-curling, mind-numbing, full-on quiver attack. I try not to make a sound, because there are people on the other side of the door—and if I can hear them they can certainly hear me—but I fail. It’s a high-pitched moan that includes Randy’s name.

I’m not even close to being over the crest of it when the door bursts open. All my muscles are locked like I’ve been dipped in liquid nitrogen. Randy doesn’t even bother to look at them, his focus is singular: me.

I bite my lip, a whole-body tremor making my eyes roll up.