Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

“Your mom’s boyfriend’s here.”

“So? They bone while I’m here all the time. We’ll be quiet. If I get loud you can put a hand over my mouth; I kinda like that.”

He stands there blinking at me like maybe I’ve gone a little crazy, so I pull my sweatshirt and tank top over my head and push my flannel moose pants down over my hips. And voila, I’m naked. It does the trick. Randy shrugs out of his jacket and takes off his hoodie and T-shirt. I shove his pants and underwear down his thighs and drop to my knees.

“Look at him! He’s so happy to see me, grinning like a fool.”

Randy laughs and inhales as I trace the scar with a gentle finger.

I don’t bother with a warm-up. It’s unnecessary and a waste of time. All I want is to lube up his cock and get it inside me. The best way to accomplish that is by slobbering all over it. Or putting as much of it in my mouth as I can and sucking, whichever sounds classier.

I lick along the shaft and engulf the head. I look up as I take more of him in. Randy’s mouth drops open, and his hands go into my hair. I hold on to his ass, and he cradles my head. I suck as if blow jobs are an Olympic event, and I’m going for the gold medal.

“Holy fuck, Lily.” Randy puts a hand on the wall to steady himself.

His knees buckle at my loud slurping noise. Guys are so funny about having their cock in a mouth, and based on Randy’s previous experiences, I’m turning into his blow-job goddess.

All my hot spots are lighting up like a Vegas slot machine when Randy fists my hair and pulls me off. A string of saliva connects the head to my bottom lip. From my perspective it’s gross, but Randy’s a guy, and for whatever reason, they seem to like all the suction sounds and bodily fluids.

He bends over me, panting, muscles straining. His cock is inches from my face. He’s still holding the wall with one hand and my hair with the other. I won’t lie. It’s superhot. I may be on my knees, but I’m definitely the one with all the power. I run my hands up his thighs and bite my bottom lip, being coy. I trace the white line across his hip, then sweep a single finger all the way down the shaft, over the smiley scar, to the tip. Randy’s eyes roll up, and he shudders.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I’m saccharine sweet about it.

He pulls me up by my hair and crushes his mouth to mine. Oh, man. This is going to be some serious get-back-together-now-I’m-his-girlfriend sex. He must forget that his pants are still around his ankles, because he stumbles and has to shuffle to the bed. We fall in a heap on the mattress. My comforter is a rumpled mess, and I didn’t even bother to put my suitcase on the floor before I went to bed last night, so I had to sleep on an angle.

We slither-flop up the bed so half our bodies aren’t hanging off the end. Randy’s heavy on top of me. His cock is nestled in tight between my legs. And of course, he’s already started with the wet-humping.

At this point I’ve stopped being surprised by how quickly he makes me come. I think it’s just the way we are together. With the next roll of his hips, the head rubs my clit. I dig my nails into his ass and arch. He slips low. The head breaches the Vagina Emporium’s front door.

Randy breaks the kiss, and we do the stare off. We don’t need actual words to convey the question we’re both silently asking. Is it okay? Can we do this without a condom? He hasn’t had sex with anyone else in a long time.

“I’m clean.” Randy cringes, embarrassed. It says more than his reassurance. “I’ll get a condom.”

“It’s okay.”

“You’re sure.” He sinks in a little more.

“I’ve been on the pill forever.”

Randy’s hands are on my face. He goes deeper, maybe testing out whether or not I’m serious. I don’t stop him, so he keeps going. His groan is loud and low. “Don’t judge me if I come fast.”

“As long as I come before you do, we’re good.”

“No promises.”

His back expands and contracts with every breath. He’s definitely not in control. His entire body is trembling. I lock my legs around his hips and skim his cheek with my fingertips. “Hey.”

His eyes flip up to mine.

“Be with me.”

He releases a sharp exhale and starts to move. It’s not some gentle, let’s-make-love bullshit. It’s hip-slamming, bed-creaking, full-out make-up fucking. There’s no way we’re being quiet. I’ll be surprised if we don’t break my bed. Thankfully, I don’t need it in Chicago.