Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

Her nose scrunches up in this cute way, similar to her reaction when I suggested we go for wings and beer, before I knew she didn’t eat animals.

“Man, he must have gone through an awful lot of socks.” When I was a teenager I blasted the cannon three times a day, if not more. Sometimes in high school when Barbie Claremont wore her little white sundress that didn’t fit dress code, I’d have to take a time out during second period so I could manage the rest of the morning. And that was after I’d already taken care of my morning problem in the shower.

“He went barefoot a lot. His sneakers smelled awful.”

“I bet. It’s kind of genius, eh?” It would cut down on the use of tissues, that’s for sure. “Wait. How do you know about Waters’ masturbating habits?”

“I used to do his laundry ’cause he always helped me with homework and stuff. But I stopped after I discovered his mountain of crusty socks.”

“I can see how that might happen. I usually stick to tissues or whacking it in the shower. I’ve tried aiming in the sink or the toilet, but the trajectory isn’t always predictable, and my dick isn’t bendy when I’m hard.” I’m still kneeling in front of her, so she can’t see my current wood. “We should probably talk about something else, yeah? Other than my whacking-off practices.” I’m not even sure how we got on this topic in the first place.

“Probably.” Sunny brushes the hair she’s twirling between her fingers across her lips. She never wears lipstick, so the soft strands sweep across without getting caught in any gunky, sparkly crap. Kissing Sunny is nice. I don’t end up looking like I made out with a circus clown, and she doesn’t taste like artificial candy flavor.

I lean closer until my chest is pressed against her knees and our faces are only inches apart. I can tell she thinks I’m going to kiss her. It’s what I want to do. But she still looks uncertain, and I’m not willing to make more mistakes than I already have.

Instead, I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger, watching the silky, golden strands slip around and around. I twist them until they fan out like a paintbrush and rub them over my lips to see what it feels like.

Sunny laughs. It’s a soft, breathy giggle. Cute. Sweet. A little uncomfortable, even. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know. What are you doing?”

Her gaze shifts past me. “Thinking.”

“About what?” I drop her hair and run my fingertip along the contour of her bottom lip. She has fantastic lips. I haven’t had them on mine in more than two weeks. I want to fix that right now.

“About how I’m not sure what you want from me.”

I drop my hand and hold onto the armrests instead. “You still think I’m trying to play you?”

“You’re always talking the talk.”

“You think so, eh? Well, why don’t we look at the facts?” I drop that bit of Canadian in there to make her smile. She does, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appears.

“There you go again! You’re doing it right now.”

“Doing what?”

“Saying eh, being all cute.”

“You think I’m cute?”

She pushes at my chest with her toe. Annoyed. “You have the biggest ego in the world.”

I grab her ankle and run my hand up the outside of her calf. Her legs are amazing—long, toned, and sun-kissed. I want my hands and my mouth on every last inch of skin, starting at her ankle and ending at her mouth.

“Your brother has the biggest ego,” I tell her. “It’s at least ten times the size of mine.”

“He does not.”

“Fine. My ego is bigger. Let’s get back to the facts. How long have I been calling you?”

“Since you came to Toronto.”

“How many times have I come to Guelph to see you?”

“This is the third.”

“How many times have I tried to get in your pants?”

Sunny taps her lip with her finger. “You mean for sex?”

I release her leg and hold onto the arms of the chair again. My knees hurt from kneeling for so long, but I’m making a point, one I hope is going to win a lot of favors. “Yeah, I mean for sex.”

She looks down, her eyes on my chin rather than my face. “Never.”

“That’s right. Never. So you tell me, Sunny. What do you think I’m here for?”

She peeks up, her expression sweet like those maple candies I steal from my sister all the time. “Just me?”

“Not just you. You. I’m here because I want to be with you, and no other reason.”

This is way different than placating a bunny. I’ve only ever dealt with this once before, way back at the beginning of college when crushes crushed a kid. This is different; the feelings feel a lot more real now. It’s about more than how hard she makes me.