Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

Thankfully, we’re pressed up right against each other, and I’m grinding all over her, so it’s a struggle to get a hand between us. She gives up after a minute, her hands going back to my ass.

“Maybe we should go upstairs,” she says when I break free from her lips and kiss a path down her neck.

“That’s an idea.”

Except it will take us out of the moment. Plus, there’s something extra hot about making out with her in one of these hideous chairs, in the middle of her family living room. I scan the room; all the curtains are drawn, so her pervy neighbors can’t see inside. I decide I want to make her come here. That way, every time I have to sit in this room and chitchat with her parents, I’ll have this awesome memory.

I inch toward the top of her thigh. Sunny groans and her legs tighten on my hips.

“Let’s go to my room.”

“Whadda you wanna do up there that we can’t do here?” I bite her collarbone through her shirt.

Sunny arches, pushing her chest out. Her cleavage might be ruined by the damn sports bra, but it’s not padded; I can still see the faintest outline of nipple through her shirt. I brush over the spot with a knuckle.

“Miller.”

“’Sup, baby?” This time I slide a hand under her shirt, tickling along her ribs. When I reach that stupid bra I push it up until her breasts pop out the bottom. Now I can see her perfect nipples through the sheer fabric. It’s almost better than having an unobstructed view.

“Let’s just go—”

The words die when I cover her nipple with my mouth.

“Oh, God.” She wraps both arms around my head.

I’m kneading one boob while I suck on the other nipple, leaving a hand free. I feel my way up into her shorts until I reach the edge of her panties. I don’t go under, though, because that’s exactly what she wants me to do. Instead I follow the elastic down to the juncture of her thigh and the most exciting spots.

I could get her naked. It’d be superhot. But here’s the thing about foreplay: sometimes it’s hotter with clothes on. There’s something extra sexy about making a woman come fully dressed. Well, as much as Sunny’s outfit counts as being fully dressed.

I palm her through the damp cotton, and she tries to lift her hips. It’s a challenge considering her back is arched, and she’s sitting in a chair.

I release her nipple. The pale pink shirt sticks to her boob where it’s wet. “You still wanna go upstairs?”

Sunny blinks, her confusion cute. “What?”

“Upstairs? You wanna go there?” Her panties are blue with a tiny white and dark blue polka dot pattern. I slide the tip of my finger under the elastic at the crest of her pelvis.

“Right now?” Her expression is priceless.

“If you want.”

“I’m good here.”

“You sure are,” I mutter as I drag a knuckle over soft, smooth skin. She’s wet and hot, and dude, I want to go pussy diving so fucking bad. Maybe I’ll finally get to later tonight.

I unwrap her legs from around my hips, and Sunny shifts forward, slouching down. She drapes one leg over the arm of the chair, the other one I hook over my forearm. The view is fucking awesome.

I use my thumb to push her panties to the side, exposing that perfect pink slit.

“Know what I can’t stop thinking about?”

“Hmm?” Her gaze is slow to lift from where my fingers are.

“The way you look when you come.” I rub a few slow circles around her clit.

Sunny’s eyes close, and she bites her lip.

“And all those little moans when I find the right spot.” I slip one finger inside, and she makes the sound I’m hoping for. “Just like that.”

I add another finger, going deeper until her cheeks flush and her mouth drops open. She clutches my forearm.

“Holy—” she gasps. “Sweet—oh, God. I—Miller.” She draws out my name, eyes wide, her expression reflecting her need.

“Am I hitting the right spot?”

She nods furiously, her grip tightening. “You always hit the right spot.”

“Want me to fumble around a little?”

“No!” She digs her nails into my skin. “I’m right th—”

She contracts around my fingers, showing me what she was about to tell me. Sunny’s eyes meet mine, wide with shock. I don’t know why she’s always so surprised when she comes, like it’s unexpected.

She releases my arm and grabs my shoulders, pulling me forward until our lips collide. Her tongue shoots into my mouth, twisting with mine as she moans. I feel like the motherpucking man.

That is until she breaks the kiss, flops back in the chair, and says, “I kinda hate that you’re so good at that.”

There’s a bite to her words. Looks like she’s not as over the social media stuff as she thinks. I remove my hand from inside her panties, adjusting her underwear so they’re back in place, and lower her leg to the floor. “You hate that I can make you come with my fingers? Yeah, I can see how that’s real unfortunate. I can always pretend I don’t know what I’m doing.” I make a joke out of it, but there’s a weight in my chest. I don’t like it. I can’t help that I’m good at the sex.