Pucked (Pucked 1)

“I can call room service and have a pack brought up. They can bring a room key, too, so you can go when you want.”

Mortification slices through my post-orgasm buzz as he dials the front desk. While I didn’t expect to spend the night with him, I didn’t think I’d be kicked out before the sweat had a chance to dry. The smokes seem like some form of payment for my services. If so, how terribly does it reflect on my performance that I only warrant a cheap pack of cigarettes that I won’t even enjoy because I’m a fake smoker.

I slip off the bed, feeling exposed as I search for my Spidey pants. Without glasses, everything more than five feet away is an indistinct blur.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Alex stands and catches my wrist. He’s naked and glorious, and I’m naked and . . . well, me, and therefore self-conscious.

“Trying to find my clothes since you’re sending a key up.” I finally spot the blue and red smudge under the black spot on the floor, which must be Alex’s pants.

When I reach for them, his hold on my wrist tightens. “What? No! You think I want you to leave? I’m not an asshole. I thought it would be easier to get a key before we pass out. I’ll set a wake-up call for you if you want to stay. I want you to stay.” He runs a hand through his sex-messed hair. If he wasn’t naked with his semisoft monster cock hanging out, he might be cute. He’s not, though; he’s gorgeous and flustered.

With no prior one-night stand experience, I can’t say what protocol is in this situation. Against my better judgment, I want to stay. In case he wants to do it again.

He takes my face in his hands; his palms are wide and warm. His lips are soft on mine when he kisses me. “Don’t go yet, Violet. Please?”

“Okay.”

He steps closer, his cock twitching against my stomach. He can’t possibly get hard again seeing as he just came.

“So sweet.” He runs his nose across my cheek and kisses my neck. “I’d keep you here all weekend if we didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

His hands travel up my sides to rest below the curve of my breasts. I jut my chest out like an offering and push my hips into his. I could swear his cock is harder than it was a few moments ago. With stealth maneuvers learned through endless battles on Xbox with Buck, I sneak a hand between us and pat around. Yup, I’m not crazy; he’s got another hard-on brewing.

“Did you take Viagra or something?”

Alex backs up a fraction of an inch, far enough to avoid going cross-eyed. Must have been the wrong thing to ask.

“Pardon?”

I pet his dick, hoping to erase the dark look on his face. He seems pissed at the suggestion he might need that kind of assistance. Honestly, who gets hard three minutes after having sex? Isn’t that a myth? In my limited sexual experience, which is rooted in the upper-middle section of the single digits, I’ve never had more than one round of fill-the-beaver-hole in a night.

“N-nothing.” I wrap my fingers around his growing erection. My middle finger and thumb touch, so I give it a gentle squeeze followed by a slow stroke. The skin is looser, and it’s fun to slide around.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” His voice is hot and sweet and hard; a Werther’s Original sitting on a radiator.

“Distracting you by exploring the myth of the immediate post-sex almost-hard-on you seem to be experiencing? Despite the potential ill effects of having a double-XL in an extra-small space more than once, I don’t seem to be able to stop helping it along.” I give it another stroke to prove my lack of self-restraint.

“The myth of—wait, ill effects?” He places a hand on mine, his expression one of concern.

I squeeze his junk while I try to come up with an inoffensive explanation. “Well, you’re mammoth, so it goes without saying I’ll be sore. Not in a bad way. More in a ridden hard and satisfied way.” I don’t think I’m making this better. I bet if I put that dick of his in my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to talk at all.

“I see. Are you off limits now?”

“‘Off limits’? No. Definitely not.”

“That’s good to hear. If you keep doing that”—he drags our palms down his shaft—“I’m going to be rock solid in about two minutes.”

“You’re pretty solid already.”

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, depending on the projected state of my parts below the waist, we’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Alex swears under his breath. He plants an open-mouthed kiss on the side of my neck, following with teeth. “That’ll be room service with your key. Don’t go anywhere.”