Forever Pucked (Pucked 4)

Miller bumps into the table holding the three-tiered wedding cake. It rocks forward and then topples off the back.

As if this isn’t bad enough, Violet scrambles to right herself, but her heel is still caught in the back of her dress. It pulls the whole thing down. And there they are: her boobs.

Miller hits pause instead of stop, so the video freezes on a shot of Violet’s exposed chest.

“Shit! Sorry! I meant to hit stop before that happened!”

The young Miller on the screen is wide eyed and horrified, just like the one currently in three dimensions. He steps in front of the TV to block the view. Thankfully everyone is looking either at the ceiling or their hands.

“So, um, I guess this kind of explains Violet’s aversion to weddings, huh?” Randy asks.

That she’s agreed to any kind of actual ceremony with people in attendance is a true miracle.

I clear my throat. “I think it goes without saying that this stays under the cone.”

There’s murmured agreement and some uncomfortable shifting around.

I definitely need to get my mom to back off. I wait until Darren and I are in his car before I call my mom and gently, but firmly, tell her to stop looking for alternate venues, because the Chicago cottage is where Violet and I are getting married.

She might be disappointed, but she agrees to cease with the texting torture. At least that’s one issue resolved.

-&-

The next few weeks are full of PT, training, and planning the wedding. I gain a lot of ground, though I still don’t get to be on the ice with the rest of the team for games. And we don’t make it past the first round of playoffs. It’s a challenge to watch my teammates beat themselves up over the loss, especially when we were on such a high last year.

Ultimately, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing. We’ll have a longer off-season, with more time to recuperate and train. I’m trying to see the positive in the situation.

My ongoing issue once again has to do with my mom and her wedding interference. She’s switched tactics from alternate venues to expanding the guest list, two “very important friends” at a time. Every other day she sends me another message asking if so and so can be added to the list.

I shut her down, and then Violet feels bad for making me be the bad guy and ends up texting her back to say yes. On the up side, I’ve gotten a lot of blow jobs in the past few weeks. However, I have guilt over them, so I always return the favor with some kind of orgasm.

Today I get a text from my mom with yet another guest-addition request as I’m walking in the door after a particularly intense physical therapy session.

I don’t know if I should even bother to say anything to Violet about it as I text my mom back with a no. I find Violet on the couch with her Mac in her lap. At first I assume she’s doing something work-related, although usually she does that in her office. Maybe she needed a change of scenery.

She must be engrossed in her research, because she bursts into a fit of laughter, punctuated by a snort.

“Whatcha doin’?”

She looks up from the screen. “You need to see this!”

I sit beside her, ready to be entertained by whatever’s on the screen. It’s not what I expect.

“Uh…why am I looking at someone’s dick? And why does it have a face on it?”

Violet rolls her eyes. “Seriously? You watch internet porn all the time.”

“No, I don’t.” I watch it occasionally, especially when I’m away from home and don’t have access to Violet—usually in the bathroom with headphones on while I’m pretending to take an extra-long shower.

“Lies. I see your browser history. You need to stop with the Area 51 porn. It’s never going to happen.”

It’s my turn with the wide eyes. I always clear my browser history.

Violet shakes her head. “So transparent. Anyway, check this out! I was looking for costume designs for the Super MC, and I found this.” She points to the smiley-faced dick. “This guy draws a face on his dick—and arms and stuff—and puts it in scenarios. And now he’s started dressing him up! People make his dick clothes, just like I made yours a cape!”

“And a Christmas costume; don’t forget that.”

“That was so much fun. Don’t worry, I have something special planned for the wedding night.”

“I’m sure that part will be awesome.” I drape my arm over the back of the couch and slip my hand under her hair.

“Oh, it will. No accidental suffocation. Anyway, this guy has all sorts of chicks sending him stuff, and look at how tiny his doodle is!” Violet points to the screen.

“I don’t think it’s fair to call it tiny.”