Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

There weren’t any other girlfriends until my junior year of high school—none that I ever met until my dad started dating Skye, Vi’s mom, anyway. She was nice and fun to be around.

“Sidney raised you on his own?”

“Yeah, for the most part. I spent a lot of time at Randy’s when I was growing up. His mom cooked and stuff, but it was different.” Not that his situation was much easier. His dad played professional hockey and was gone a lot. His parents divorced when he was eleven.

Sunny’s eyes go the kind of liquid I equate with sadness.

“Anyways, it’s nice to have someone want to do things for me.”

I don’t want to talk about depressing shit. It reminds me that this thing me and Sunny have going is complicated. Before her, I never would’ve considered spending a weekend with the same woman. In the past, last night would’ve been followed by either more of the same come morning, or a quiet departure on the part of the bunny. If it was one of the girls I saw more regularly, I might make coffee or order in some breakfast before I sent her on her way, but none of them ever went out of their way to make breakfast for me. It feels good—less like I’m an occasional convenience and more like I’m important beyond my ability to provide orgasms in bulk.

I reach for one of the cinnamon buns, done with talking. A puff of steam follows, and my fingers instantly heat to the point of being uncomfortable. Still, I want to end this conversation, and I’m hungry.

“Those are still too hot!” Sunny grabs it out of my hand.

I hold onto her wrist and try to pull it toward my mouth, but she drops it.

“That was a waste!” I debate eating it even though it’s been on the floor.

“It was burning my fingers!”

“Let me see.” The tips are pink and covered in cinnamon-bun goo, so I suck each one into my mouth and finish cleaning them off with a kiss. “Better?”

“Better.”

I push the bowl of icing out of the way and lift her onto the counter. “I know what we can do while we wait for those to cool.” I part her legs with my palms and step between them, pulling her close to the edge. My erection sticks straight out under the apron. Sunny reaches around and pulls the tie, setting me free.

“You have the best ideas.”

“I know, right?” I pull her tank over her head and palm her breasts.

She wraps her warm fingers around my cock and starts stroking. We make out, feeling each other up until Sunny lets go and shoves her shorts down her thighs. Everything goes from playful to frantic when she hooks her legs around my waist and pulls me in tight against her. I rub my cock against wet pussy. Which is when I remember that all the condoms are upstairs, in the bedroom.

I drop my head into the crook of her neck as I slide through that heavenly, hot wetness. I’ve only had sex without a condom once. It was back in high school with the girl I thought I was in love with. The paranoia after the fact was almost worth how good it felt. Almost. The two weeks I spent terrified I’d gotten her pregnant ruined all the fun.

I groan as she swivels her hips. “We need to go upstairs.”

“I like it here just fine,” she says.

“The condoms are in your bedroom.”

“I’ve been on the pill since I was sixteen.” She’s giving me permission to go bareback. It’s hard to say no to that.

“It’s not a hundred-percent effective.” It sounds more like a question than it does a statement.

“You can pull out at the end if you’re worried.”

I bite her shoulder and then along her neck. Sunny gasps and shifts her hips. I slide low. Really low. Almost to door number two.

“Oh no! You’re not pulling that trick on me!”

I lift my head, confused. “What?”

“Nuh-uh. We’re not doing anal.”

I almost do a spit-take. “Say what now? I wasn’t trying to—”

Her voice is high pitched. “My ex-boyfriend tried to get me to have anal all the time because he said it was less risky, and we wouldn’t have to use protection.”

It sounds like Sunny’s had some douchey exes. I sure as hell hope this Kale dude isn’t the one she’s talking about. “What did you think I was going to do, Sunny? Just try to slip it in there?”

“That’s what he used to do!”

“How small was his dick?”

She holds up two fingers.

“Is this the same guy who couldn’t get you off?”

I’m not surprised when she nods. I mean, seriously, that’s a way-below-average dick. I grab the hand she’s holding up and wrap her fingers around my cock. Talking about anal gets me stupid hard. I can’t help it. I’m a guy. I want to go where I’m not supposed to.