PUCKED (A Standalone Romantic Comedy) (The Pucked Series Book 1)

VIOLET

I lie underneath Alex’s heavy body for a minute until breathing becomes difficult. “Um, Alex . . .” I say breathlessly—because I’m breathless.

“Oh, sorry! I’m crushing you, aren’t I?” He rolls gracefully to the left.

“Wow.” I luxuriate in loose muscles and full breaths. “I could use a smoke.”

Alex misunderstands my attempt at humor and turns away, reaching for the phone on the nightstand. There are red lines spanning his back from shoulders to ass. Nail marks from me.

“I can call room service and have a pack brought up. They can bring a room key, too, so you can go when you want.”

Mortification slices through my post-orgasm buzz as he dials the front desk. While I didn’t expect to spend the night with him, I didn’t think I’d be kicked out before the sweat had a chance to dry. The smokes seem like some form of payment for my services. If so, how terribly does it reflect on my performance that I only warrant a cheap pack of cigarettes that I won’t even enjoy because I’m a fake smoker.

I slip off the bed, feeling exposed as I search for my Spidey pants. Without glasses, everything more than five feet away is an indistinct blur.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Alex stands and catches my wrist. He’s naked and glorious, and I’m naked and . . . well, me, and therefore self-conscious.

“Trying to find my clothes since you’re sending a key up.” I finally spot the blue and red smudge under the black spot on the floor, which must be Alex’s pants.

When I reach for them, his hold on my wrist tightens. “What? No! You think I want you to leave? I’m not an asshole. I thought it would be easier to get a key before we pass out. I’ll set a wake-up call for you if you want to stay. I want you to stay.” He runs a hand through his sex-messed hair. If he wasn’t naked with his semisoft monster cock hanging out, he might be cute. He’s not, though; he’s gorgeous and flustered.

With no prior one-night stand experience, I can’t say what protocol is in this situation. Against my better judgment, I want to stay. In case he wants to do it again.

He takes my face in his hands; his palms are wide and warm. His lips are soft on mine when he kisses me. “Don’t go yet, Violet. Please?”

“Okay.”

He steps closer, his cock twitching against my stomach. He can’t possibly get hard again seeing as he just came.

“So sweet.” He runs his nose across my cheek and kisses my neck. “I’d keep you here all weekend if we didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

His hands travel up my sides to rest below the curve of my breasts. I jut my chest out like an offering and push my hips into his. I could swear his cock is harder than it was a few moments ago. With stealth maneuvers learned through endless battles on Xbox with Buck, I sneak a hand between us and pat around. Yup, I’m not crazy; he’s got another hard-on brewing.

“Did you take Viagra or something?”

Alex backs up a fraction of an inch, far enough to avoid going cross-eyed. Must have been the wrong thing to ask.

“Pardon?”

I pet his dick, hoping to erase the dark look on his face. He seems pissed at the suggestion he might need that kind of assistance. Honestly, who gets hard three minutes after having sex? Isn’t that a myth? In my limited sexual experience, which is rooted in the upper-middle section of the single digits, I’ve never had more than one round of fill-the-beaver-hole in a night.

“N-nothing.” I wrap my fingers around his growing erection. My middle finger and thumb touch, so I give it a gentle squeeze followed by a slow stroke. The skin is looser, and it’s fun to slide around.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” His voice is hot and sweet and hard; a Werther’s Original sitting on a radiator.

“Distracting you by exploring the myth of the immediate post-sex almost-hard-on you seem to be experiencing? Despite the potential ill effects of having a double-XL in an extra-small space more than once, I don’t seem to be able to stop helping it along.” I give it another stroke to prove my lack of self-restraint.

“The myth of—wait, ill effects?” He places a hand on mine, his expression one of concern.

I squeeze his junk while I try to come up with an inoffensive explanation. “Well, you’re mammoth, so it goes without saying I’ll be sore. Not in a bad way. More in a ridden hard and satisfied way.” I don’t think I’m making this better. I bet if I put that dick of his in my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to talk at all.

“I see. Are you off limits now?”

“‘Off limits’? No. Definitely not.”

“That’s good to hear. If you keep doing that”—he drags our palms down his shaft—“I’m going to be rock solid in about two minutes.”

“You’re pretty solid already.”

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, depending on the projected state of my parts below the waist, we’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Alex swears under his breath. He plants an open-mouthed kiss on the side of my neck, following with teeth. “That’ll be room service with your key. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Seeing as I’m naked and you’ll be blocking the only exit with your godlike body, I don’t think I’ll be attempting an escape.”

“‘Godlike body,’ eh?” Alex flashes me his one-dimpled grin.

I roll my eyes. “Like you don’t already know it.”

He smacks my bare ass. “You’re cute.” He nabs his boxers from the floor and tugs them up his legs. There’s no hiding his semi. He reaches inside and does some rearranging as he saunters out of the room. I stare after him, rubbing my ass.

With Alex no longer presenting a sensory distraction, I become self-conscious of my nakedness. My Spidey pants help conceal the bottom half, sadly, my top is in the other room with my glasses and my phone.

I check the bathroom for a robe and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. It looks as if woodland creatures have taken refuge in my hair. I use my fingers to smooth it into some semblance of order. It doesn’t work, so I pick up the brush from the vanity and drag it through the tangled mass. It hurts, but helps.

I open the door to find Alex standing on the other side. I do the whole gasping hand-to-heart deal, as if it’s going to burst out of my chest. His eyes drop from my face. I’m palming my tit.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says to my boobs.

I separate my fingers so my nipple peeks out between them. Alex moves closer, running a single finger between my breasts and down my stomach to circle my navel. “You put your pants on.”

“You’re wearing boxers.”

“This is true.” Dipping lower, his fingers sweep over my befuddled beaver.

“I was making it even.”

“I could fix that. If it’s a problem for you.” His smile is all mischief. “If you’re still staying, that is.”

“I’m still staying.”

“This is good news.”

Plush, warm lips are on my neck again. He sifts his fingers through my hair and tugs gently, tilting my head back. “Is it okay that I want you again?”

“Perfectly okay.” I look toward the rumpled sheets. “Bed?”

“Bed.”

“I’m sending you the repair bill if you break my beaver.”

Alex bites my shoulder. “Beavers are ugly. You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever put my mouth on.”

It’s a dirty thing to say, and considering how many pussies Alex has likely been up close and personal with, it’s a significant, moderately backhanded compliment.

Of course to prove it, Alex carries me to the bed and strips off my pants. He drops to his knees on the floor, puts his face between my thighs, and makes fireworks happen with his awesome mouth. Again.

I’m not sure of the exact orgasm tally, but by the time he comes up for air, I’m loose-limbed and one word demands are all I can manage. “Naked.”

He drops his boxers freeing the monster cock. It smacks him in the stomach with a loud thwack. I stifle a giggle and pat it, checking to make sure it’s okay. Alex’s expression is a mixture of amusement and desire as he joins me on the bed, reclining against the mess of pillows.

There’s nothing between us now, just hot skin and wet need. Shimmying back, I slide my hands up his thighs. I have a plan. It might cause lasting damage to my jaw, but he’s gone south on me twice, and it’s only polite to respond in kind. Plus, I’m curious to see how much will fit.

I run my finger from base to tip. The smooth skin is stretched tight, and I wrap my palm around him, in awe of how far apart my fingers are. I look up and touch my lips to the head.

He does this jerky-shudder thing, which I take as a good sign, so I give it a test lick.

The satin softness and slight wrinkle of foreskin fascinates me as I take more of him. I don’t get very far—halfway at best, probably more like a third. I bob a little and lick around the head. Alex is quite the vision; lids low and lips parted.

He skims the contour of my bottom lip where it wraps around his cock. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

Popping off, I say, “I wouldn’t mind.” Even if it tastes like shit, I’d swallow Alex Waters’ jizz. Then I’d get the T-shirt.

“Maybe another time. I’d rather be inside you when I come.”

He positions me to straddle him. I’m so wet. I couldn’t be more ready if I jumped into a pool of lube.

“Shit, that’s—” Heavy breath follows a pained sigh as he reaches for a condom and rolls it on.

Rising to my knees, I grip the absurdly thick shaft and assume the position. I sink slowly until I’m so full of cock it’s ridiculous.

Alex holds my hips as I start to rock. His mouth is on my neck, my jaw, my chin, my lips. I push on his chest, and he lies back to let me ride him. It’s the most delicious feeling—the sensation of emptiness followed by the nearly painful fullness. I’m probably ruined for the next dick that comes my way. Alex is stunning below me. His face is set in intense concentration. A slight sheen of sweat covers his chest. His abs flex with every rotation of my hips.

“Gimme that mouth, please.”

With a palm on my nape, he holds me close, fucking my mouth with his tongue at the same leisurely pace as his cock inside me. When I gasp for air, he covers my throat and my breasts with wet kisses.

“I should tell you I’m in love with your tits,” he says while doing that nuzzle thing again.

“You can date them if you want. They like bras from Victoria’s Secret.” I half laugh, half moan when he sucks my nipple roughly.

The combination of sensations—him inside me, the way my clit rubs against his pelvis with each shift of our hips, and his teeth grazing my sensitive nipple—sends me over the edge. He sits up, preventing my trembling arms from giving out. I’m coming so hard everything goes black and returns in bursts of gray and stars.

“Is that good? Does it feel good? Jesus, Violet, I can feel you coming on my cock.”

I’m chanting something incoherent into his neck. With absolute horror, I realize I’m repeating the phrase I love your cock. The possibility I might accidentally leave out the cock part and profess actual love is too shameful to fathom. Obviously I don’t—love him, that is. I am developing a strong bond with his penis, however. I bite his shoulder to stop the words, porn-moaning instead. It’s safer.

He urges my head up, freeing my teeth from his skin. I’ve left a giant hickey. Actually, I’ve left several. His lips brush mine in a soft kiss. Alex whispers against them—how good I feel, how he’s going to come, how he loves watching me come. The orgasm keeps going, steamrolling over me; it’s a sensory explosion like no other. Alex groans through his final thrust.

My eyes snap open, because dammit, I want to see his come face. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and a fine tremor runs through his body like a low level earthquake. For the first time in my life, I can feel the twitch and pulse of a man coming inside of me. I’m going to put this one in the bank for future jilling sessions.

He flops down on the mattress, taking me with him. “That was even better than the first time.”

Too exhausted to speak in full sentences, I say, “So awesome. Tired.”

He laughs softly, stroking my hair. A few minutes pass, then he shifts my limp body, and pulls out. Alex sets an alarm for me and leaves the key card on the nightstand. I should get dressed and go, but my body won’t obey the command to move. I mumble about needing to be in my room early, but I’m not sure my words make sense. He turns off the light and slips his arm under me, drawing me against his side.

“Fall asleep with me?”

I pass out with my cheek on his chest and his lips on my temple.

I wake with a start. My right side is sweaty. I can’t see the clock on the nightstand without my glasses. Alex’s arm is heavy as hell. He’s wrapped around me with his nose pressed into my hair. I lift his arm—it takes some effort—and slide gingerly out of bed. My thighs and my cooter ache, and my skin pebbles in the absence of Alex’s furnace-like body heat.

The reality of what I’ve done hits me like a UFC uppercut. I’ve had sex with one of Buck’s teammates. I will invariably see him again. Repeatedly. This was a terrible idea. He’s a hockey whore, and now I’m a hockey hooker. I experience a swell of shame followed by desire as I stare at his fuckhot form lying alone in that well-used bed. He mumbles in his sleep, so I nab my key card and Spidey pants and tiptoe into the living room. I stumble around in the dark, searching for my shirt. It’s on the couch, but my glasses are nowhere to be found.

A faint beeping sound from Alex’s bedroom means I’ve run out of time. For one terrified second I freeze. I hastily pull on my shirt, snatch my phone from the coffee table, sprint to the door, and let myself out. I take the stairs all the way to the sixth floor.

Inside my room in the suite, I slide down the door, breathing hard. I hit the floor with a wince; my cooter has been in an epic battle—with a cock monster.

I had amazing sex with Alex Waters. Twice. I have no idea how much of a player he is or how high profile. Not that it matters. It’ll be awkward regardless. I drop my head in my hands.

What the hell have I done?