Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

I don’t even have the ability to fight back with my tongue. I’m still shaking. My muscles are still contracting, like they’re grabbing for the dick that isn’t there, yet. I fumble around, searching for his belt so I can either return the favor, or we can get down to it. It takes me a few tries to get the buckle undone, but I’m determined when necessary. I manage the button and the zipper as well.

Before I can get my hand down his pants, Randy spins me around. He presses his hips against me, the zipper digging into my ass cheek. He clamps his tattooed forearm across my chest and nibbles from my shoulder to my neck, meeting my spaced-out gaze in the mirror. “Wanna watch me fuck you?”

All that comes out is a whimper.

That smirky grin appears for a second. “I wanna watch me fuck you.”

I manage words this time. “Sounds like fun.”

Now I get a real smile. “I like fun.” He slaps a condom on the counter. “Open that for me?”

“Sure thing, Captain Ballistic.”

“I hate it when you last-name me.” He bites my shoulder.

“Sorry, Randy,” I say it all sweet and breathless, like I imagine the bunnies do for him.

Tearing the wrapper, I push the latex ring up. “I can put it on if you want.”

“I got this.” He shoves his pants down but doesn’t bother taking them off. He’s still got one arm clamped across my chest. He doesn’t let go as he plucks the condom from the wrapper and rolls it on one-handed. I don’t understand why he won’t let me do it, but his skill is impressive nonetheless.

Once the condom is where it should be, he unbars my chest and runs his hands down my arms. His lips are on the nape of my neck as he presses my palms against the vanity.

I glance over my shoulder, hoping to get a look at… something. He nudges my cheek with his nose. “Keep your eyes on mine, baby.”

I glance up and get caught in his hot stare. Holy mother of all things moist, he’s got one hell of a smolder going on. Randy keeps one hand on top of mine and grips his cock with the other. Spreading my knees, he bends, and then I feel it: the head of his cock gliding over my clit. I glance down as it disappears from view. And then he’s pushing inside me—slow, controlled. It’s so, so good. Scratch that. Good doesn’t cut it. It’s more magical than Oz.

I arch, pushing back, seeking more. And I sure as hell get it. He buries himself completely on a deep exhale.

His eyes flutter, and he groans. “So fuckin’ good.”

“Totally agree.”

He runs a palm up my spine, fingers curling around the back of my neck. I’d consider it a highly dominating action if he didn’t knead my tight muscles. He follows this up by using my hair to pull my head back. Not hard, just firmly. Then he presses the softest, warmest kiss below my ear. There’s no way to know what’s coming next.

“Ready, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” I’d nod, but he’s still holding my hair.

His smile sends a shiver down my spine and a shot of holy shit to my clit. He angles my head to the side so he has access to my mouth. This time it’s the battle of tongues two-point-oh. I fist his hair. The harder I grip, the harder he kisses. He’s still not moving, though. I’m ultra cock-filled, but without the friction, there’s no way to reach the land of bliss.

Randy breaks the kiss on a grunt, and the fucking commences. It’s a no-holds-barred, fuck-me-until-the-little-bottles-of-shampoo-fall-over-and-roll-onto-the-floor experience. And the entire time his eyes are on mine—apart from the occasional split-second glance down as he eases out and pushes in super slow. Just to keep me guessing, I suppose.

I’m close to coming. A few well-placed rubs and I’ll free-fall into orgasm outer space. The problem is, I’m afraid to lift my hand with the way Randy’s pounding into me. The only reason I’m still upright is because he’s holding my hips and my arms are acting as support beams. Unsteady ones, but I’m managing. For now.

“Randy?” It comes out fairly coherent in spite of the vigorous pounding.

“Yeah, baby?”

My clit practically lights itself on fire. His voice is straight-up sex shooters.

His next thrust is gentler. “You need me to slow it down?”

I shake my head. “I need to come.”

“You sure fuckin’ do.” He releases one hip, and I nearly face plant into the sink. His wide palm covers my sternum, his thumb and forefinger spreading across my collarbones. He pulls me against him. His other hand slides down the back of my leg, hooking under my knee. I have no idea what his plan is, but he’s basically responsible for carrying all of my body weight.