Pucked (Pucked 1)

He must know it drives me crazy in the best way when he calls me baby. “I want to.”

“We can get a hotel room the first night, then stay at my condo in the city for the rest of the weekend. Just the two of us.”

“You have a condo?”

“I do. My parents stay there when I have Toronto games.”

“Right. Of course.”

The idea of spending a weekend alone with Alex makes my thighs clench. It’s been days since I helped myself out, and now I’m warm and wet and wanting.

“I’ll have to check with work to see if I can get the time off. Last minute tickets will be expensive.”

I slide my palm down my stomach to my parted thighs, stifling a moan. My breathing is already heavy, so I hold the phone away from my mouth.

“Don’t worry ab—what are you doing?”

“Uh, I—uh . . .” Should I or shouldn’t I? Prior to my discovery of the picture of him and his sister, he’d been sending me dirty texts all week citing the things he couldn't wait to do to me when he got home. In one he mentioned spending an afternoon with his face between my thighs. Except he didn’t use that particular phrasing. I moan. Once the sound is out of my mouth, I can’t mulligan it back.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Maybe.” I slip my fingers into the little pocket in the front. Boy’s underwear are so convenient.

“Yes or no, Violet?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, fuck. Are you petting my pussy?”

Oh sweet baby Jesus, he called it his. “Uh-huh.”

I bite my lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

“Don’t hold back. Tell me what you’re doing. God, I wish I could see you.”

“I—I—”

“You gonna get all shy with me now? It’s just you and me. There’s no one but us. Give me something to get through the next few days.” His voice is soft, encouraging.

“Alex. I . . .” It’s barely a whisper.

“Do you wish it was me? My fingers touching you?”

“Oh, God.” I’ve never had phone sex. I’m not a conscious sex talker. The crap I spew is unintentional. “Yes, I wish it was you.”

“Me, too, baby. Me, too. Where are your fingers?”

I hesitate for a fraction of a second. “My clit.”

“Are you wet like you were for me?”

I debate the merits of telling the truth or embellishing for the sake of phone sex hotness. “Uh-uh.”

“No?”

“Not nearly as wet as I get for you.” I’m all breathy and moany.

This is total bullshit. I’m one of those naturally lubey people. It’s a goddamn blessing. However, I’m all for stroking Alex’s ego while we stroke ourselves.

“I can’t wait to have my mouth on you again. I’m gonna eat you like I’m on death row and you’re my last goddamned meal.”

I moan—because what other response does a declaration like that warrant? Alex is really good at the phone sexing.

I rub in earnest as Alex whispers dirty things in my ear about how he wishes it was his fingers and his mouth, how good it will be when he finally gets inside me again, and how much he wishes it was my hand on his cock right now.

“I miss your cock,” I whisper.

“You do, eh?” He follows that bit of Canadian cuteness with, “Tell me how you feel about my cock.”

Good lord, this man’s head is about to explode right along with his dick. “I love your cock, Alex.”

He sucks in a sharp breath.

“I’m so close. Don’t stop.” I’m not talking to my own hand; I’m talking to Alex and his dirty mouth. It’s the driving force behind my impending orgasm.

I moan his name and some profanity as heat funnels into the center of my body. The phone falls from my ear as the orgasm hits. It’s like dropping a Mentos into a bottle of soda.

Alex’s voice is soft and distant while he croons from halfway under my pillow. “That’s it, let me hear you come. God, I wish I was inside you . . . ah shit, I’m gonna—”

I scramble for the phone. There’s no way I’m going to miss this. Alex rasps my name in the sexiest way imaginable. I close my eyes and envision him naked—fisting his cock, coming on his perfect abs.

I give him a moment to catch his breath before I attempt conversation. It’s a lame one. “Sooo . . .”

“God that was hot. What are you wearing? I pictured you topless in boxers.”

“You got the bottom half mostly right. I’m wearing a tank top. It’s white, so you’d be able to see my nipples through it if you were here.” I find it interesting Alex asks about my apparel after the phone sex.

“Will you take a picture and send it to me?”

“What if you lost your phone and it got leaked on the Internet?” I also look terrible in most pictures, especially selfies.