Pucked (Pucked 1)

I haven’t moved in with him yet. It’s only been a couple of months since we got back together, and I’m trying not to rush things. Alex is like a fairy tale prince. Not so much that he comes riding in like a white knight to save me, more like he dives into huge life decisions with absolutely no caution. He asks me to move in with him on a weekly basis. I’ve decided if things are going well by fall, I’ll say yes.

It would be easy to slip into a routine where all I do is go to his house and eat his awesome food and sleep in his huge comfortable bed. I do this no more than twice a week—okay, three times. We balance it out with the occasional sleepover at my apartment. Alex isn’t a fan. It’s not so much the apartment, it’s the lack of luxury. I feel it’s important to know what it’s like not to have millions of dollars and four thousand square feet of living space.

Tonight, Alex is slumming it at my place. We reserve his sleepovers here for Wednesday nights. This is purposeful on my part. Melvin, my smelly, death-metal-loving neighbor, goes out for his role play club every Wednesday. He always leaves dressed as a wizard.

Now it’s not that I’m trying to hide Melvin’s crush on me. Alex knows about it. Although he’s unaware Melvin still stops by on a regular basis to see if I want to play Guitar Hero.

What I am trying to hide is Melvin’s habit of listening to obscenely loud music every night between the hours of seven and eleven. I don’t want to give Alex more ammunition to convince me to move in with him. I’m not ready. I don’t think. Not yet.

Alex is sitting on my couch, nursing a light beer—he can’t drink the regular stuff because of pre-season training. He rarely takes a break from all the healthy eating. We’re watching Netflix since I won’t pay for cable, and I won’t let Alex pay for it either. Melvin should be out tonight with his friends. Instead, he’s serenading us with his music. I can sing along if I want to. Or scream, as the case may be.

“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” He glares at the wall separating us from the barely muffled sound.

“Maybe he has a hearing impairment.”

Melvin’s hearing is fine. I believe he plays it at this volume to cover up how often he whacks it. The only reason he can get away with it is because the neighbor on the other side is an old man who’s practically deaf. He also happens to be Ms. Bullock’s booty call—the old man, not Melvin. I discovered this when I caught him leaving Ms. Bullock’s apartment in her too-short zebra print bathrobe, his saggy old-man balls hanging out the bottom.

“How long does this go on for?” Alex moves around as though he’s uncomfortable, which is absurd. I fall asleep on this couch all the time; it’s like sitting on a cloud.

I shrug. I don’t want to tell him it’s nearly constant.

“Violet?” He cocks his sexy eyebrow, his tone demanding a reply.

“It’s not that bad.”

“I don’t believe you. I’m going to have a word with this douche.”

Alex stands, ready to tell Melvin off. I can’t let this happen. If Alex sees Melvin and Melvin says my name the way he usually does—like he wants to hump it—Alex is going to kick his stinky ass. I don’t want to get kicked out of my apartment, nor do I want Alex to be charged with assault.

“No, don’t. I’m fine with it. I like this music.” I hum along for a few seconds, thrashing to the beat. I really hate this shit.

“Why don’t you want me to talk to him?” Alex is too quick, too smart, and too perceptive for his own good.

“Um, uh . . .”

He crosses his arms over his chest. It makes his muscles bulge in a distracting way.

“Is he still trying to get you to go out with him?”

“No.” It comes out all high-pitched. I need to learn how to lie better.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Alex grabs me by the waist and carries me to the wall I share with Melvin, where he pins me to it with his body.

“What—”

“We’re gonna make a little noise of our own.” Alex grins, but his eyes are dark and possessive. Ooooh, angry, dark, possessive Alex is sexy.

“Oh. Good plan.” The monster cock has risen to the occasion. My corresponding parts respond accordingly.

I’m naked in a flash. My clothes literally incinerate off my body thanks to Alex’s smoldering gaze. Not really—he’s got nimble fingers. He only bothers to lose his shirt and undo his pants. Being the considerate lover he is, he still uses his fingers for a minute in preparation for the MC.