Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

Okay, no I hadn’t. But I’ve been trying to forget for the past four weeks, because I’m not so sure I’m managing this casual thing all that well.

I’ve been dying to see him this entire time, aching for the feel of him on me, around me, in me. If it was just the sex, I’d be okay, but it’s not. I think I might actually like him—as a human being. A person. A man. If he didn’t live in another country, I might want to date him. And that’s a bad thing to want, because Randy doesn’t date. I know this.

When my mom wouldn’t give me the car for the night I was pissed—and maybe a little relieved. But then I started thinking about it. And Randy. And how this might be the last time I get an opportunity to be naked with him. He seems into these encounters we have, but he could strike me from his list at any time. The sex is amazing. I didn’t want to end up regretting not having it again. Just in case. Which is pathetic, but I’m not going to focus on that right now. Instead I’m going to focus on the feel of Randy’s mouth on my nipple.

I’m also going to work on getting him naked. I shove my hands under his shirt until I reach his pecs. I give his nipples a little tweak—but not too hard, because I’m not sure how he’ll react. Reversing the motion, I run my nails down his tight stomach. His whole body does this vibrating thing, like he’s on some weird radio frequency, and he breaks the suction. “Your nipples. Fuuuuck.”

It’s not much of an explanation. He sits back on his knees and works on getting his shirt off. He doesn’t bother with buttons, just yanks his tie over his head. I go for his belt buckle, but he gets there first. He’s just as aggressive with that as he was with the shirt. He pulls it free, and it snaps against the comforter.

I eye the belt. He’s still holding it. “I don’t do spankings.”

“What if I do?” He slides it ominously along his palm.

“Then you can pass that over, and I’ll do my best not to feel bad about smacking you around with it.”

Some of the heavy mood dissipates, and Randy cracks a smile. “Don’t worry, luscious Lily. That’s not my thing. Hair pulling is a totally different story, though.”

“I like the hair pulling.”

“I know.” He pops the button on his pants and slides them over his hips, kicking them off.

He’s not wearing his favorite underwear, maybe because he wasn’t expecting me. Before I can shove my hand into his boxers and get a look at Nessie, he flips my skirt up. I’m rewarded with one of his amazing groans. My vagina claps her pretty lips, and my magic marble lights up like we’ve won the million-dollar prize. Sexing with Randy is almost that good.

“You bought these for me.” He’s not asking, he’s telling.

I’d lie, but it’s pointless. Also, acknowledging will likely get me what I want faster. Which is his cock inside me. “I did.”

“I promise I won’t shred them with my teeth, but I really want to.” Randy shakes his head and looks down at my crotch like it’s a dessert he’s dying to eat, but can’t. Which is ridiculous, because he can have it whatever way he wants it. Well, almost any way. I’m not down with him trying to stick his whole damn hand in there, or any weird things like produce.

He runs his hands slowly up the outside of my thighs, taking a few deep breaths. He’s muttering to himself a little. Maybe it’s a pep talk.

“Everything okay up there?” Again, I’m going for snark, but I’m still a little discombobulated by how intense he’s being, so it’s more breathy than sarcastic.

“Everything’s fuckin’ fantastic.” He bites his bottom lip and exhales a couple more heavy, deep breaths. His fingertips slip under the elastic.

I whimper when they don’t stay there, but glide back down to my knees. I part my legs, giving him lots of room to get all up in there with whatever he wants—fingers, tongue, dick. Any of them are welcome at Lily’s Vagina Emporium.

On the next upward slide, I do the bridge to encourage him, lifting my hips off the bed so my pussy is closer to his face. I’m beyond caring about how worked up he was in the elevator, or how his jaw was doing that tic thing every once in a while. Now he seems better. Maybe my near nakedness calms him, like a sedative.

I toss my bra over the side of the bed and push my panties over my hips, but Randy covers my hands with his, stopping me.

“Not yet.”

“But I—”

“I’m savoring, Lily. It’s been thirty fucking four days. Thirty-four days since I’ve licked that pretty pussy of yours. Been inside you. Made you come. Don’t rush me.”