Текст книги "Pucked Up "

Автор книги: Helena Hunting

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The first time I ventured south of the border with Sunny I was nervous. Not because I didn’t think I could get her off—I’m almost as good at giving orgasms as I am at hockey—but I wasn’t sure what I was going to find. I’m not being a dick. It’s just the truth.

Sunny’s granola. She takes less time to get ready than I do. She doesn’t wear makeup, and I don’t think she has any idea what to do with hairspray, which is insane considering her mom must go through a can a day with the eighties hair band look she’s rockin’.

Anyway, my concerns had more to do with the potential for the “authentic granola experience,” as Vi so kindly dubbed it. She told me I was too accustomed to the bunnies. Those girls might wear too much makeup, but they’re always groomed. And by groomed I mean the only body hair they have is on their heads.

The first time I stuck my hand down Sunny’s pants, I was sure it was going to be the beginning of the end. Right where there’s usually smooth skin was a patch of soft fuzz. It was only two fingers wide, and it wasn’t like an overgrown bush or anything. I really like her, so I kept going, figuring I’d take one for the fuzz team if I had to. I could convince her to get rid of it eventually. I’d use promises of orgasm by mouth as leverage.

Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Once I passed the mountain and dove into the valley, I got nothing but smooth, soft skin and wet, warm pussy. It was a landing strip—pointing me in the right direction.

I’m not gonna lie, it was a goddamn relief. I got her off twice with my fingers. Then she held my dick. It was like high school, but way better. Sunny has great hands and super strong forearms.

Three months in now, and I still haven’t put the puck in the net. I haven’t even put my face in the net. Not for lack of trying, but opportunity hasn’t been on my side. More than once, Vi’s suggested that maybe I’m only into Sunny because she won’t give it up, and I like the challenge. In the past five years, I’ve never had anyone do anything but drop their panties and spread their legs—until Sunny.

It’s nice. So maybe part of it is the challenge. But when I see her, I’m pretty sure the tingly feeling in my dick matches that weird feeling in my chest.

That I’m willing to fly all the way out to see her, knowing there’s going to be a situation I need to handle, has to mean something, too.

I run my hands down to her knees and begin the slow ascent again. Sunny bites her lip and slouches in the chair, as if she’s trying to get closer, or get my hands to go higher. I’m not making a move, yet. I’ve held out this long; I’m sure I can manage a while longer.

I lean down and kiss the inside of her knee. “I’m sorry I made today difficult.”

“I know.”

Tension makes her thighs clench. I’m between them, so they tighten against my ribs. I keep my hands where they are, thumbs rubbing circles close to her femoral artery. Her skin is flushed, warm; her pulse is racing. She’s exactly how I want her to be, turned on and distracted. Backing off, I rest my hands on her knees and bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling when she frowns.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore, ’kay, Sunny Sunshine? I’m trying my best. I know it’s probably not good enough, but maybe you can tell me what I need to do so I can get better at it.” I’m not feeding her a line, even though I’m notoriously good at those.

Sunny’s knees press hard against my sides for a long moment. Her fingers flutter close to her hair, likes she’s thinking about doing that twirl thing. I can tell she’s trying to keep her hands to herself, that she wants to stay angry a little longer, but can’t. I’m not sure what it is about me that makes her fold—’cause let’s face it, I’m not prime boyfriend material—but whatever she sees, I’ll take.

She reaches up and pushes her fingers through my hair. Her nails scratch my scalp. I love it when she does that. Then her fingers tighten and release, over and over. I love it when she does that, too. If I had a tail, it’d be thumping on the ground about now.

“Stop letting the hooker bunnies take pictures.”

“They’re fans.”

“They’re sluts.”

“They’re also fans.”

“Who have their hands all over you.”

Her fingers tighten again so I smooth my hands up her legs and squeeze when I get to the hem of her shorts. I’m diverting her attention again. It’s not fair. She makes a good point. I wouldn’t like it if it was the other way around. I don’t always have control of where other people put their hands. I can only control what I do with mine.

“You’re the only one who matters, though.”

Sunny’s uncertainty is obvious in the tightness of her jaw and the flexing of her fingers in my hair. Some people avoid confrontation. I don’t. This whole situation is the perfect catalyst for a sweet make-up session. Keeping her on the edge of anger and fusing it with desire is the best way to finally get what I’ve been waiting for all these weeks.

Her anger simmers like almost-boiling water. Sunny cups the back of my neck and yanks me forward, our lips connecting. It’s amazing after two long weeks of nothing.

Kissing is an art. It’s the most important part of foreplay. Everything I’ll do to the rest of her body with my fingers and—sweet Christ, please let this be the night—my dick is simulated with kissing.

She tries to be aggressive, to push her tongue past my lips, but I nip her with my teeth. She makes this pained sound, frustrated and needy at the same time.

As soon as her lips part I slip my tongue inside, stroking slowly. She tastes like the cinnamon and clove toothpaste she uses. It reminds me of gingerbread cookies. Interesting. That means she stopped to brush her teeth before she answered the door. Even as pissed as she was, and maybe still is, she prepared for this.

I run a hand up her arm and across her shoulder until I’m cupping her cheek in my palm. Then I suck on her tongue. It drives her fucking crazy when I do that.

Sunny groans and winds herself around me, hooking her feet at my waist, fingers twisting in my hair to keep me from backing off again. That’s not part of my immediate plan. I’ve had far too few make-out sessions with Sunny to stop right after we’ve started.

I inch my palm up her thigh until the tip of my middle finger is under the hem of her shorts. Sunny mashes her chest against me, getting as close as she can. I ease my hand back down her thigh to her knee, staying away from all the most exciting places.

I’m playing with her. It might seem mean, but she’s enjoying it, and I’m having a good time getting her all excited. If I’m ever going to get her naked, I have to get her to the point where all she can think about is the orgasms I’ll give her if she lets me.

“I hate it when the hooker bunnies are all over you, and I hate being jealous,” Sunny mumbles around my tongue.

I back up until her face comes into focus. “You don’t need to be jealous. You’re the only one I want all over me.”

Sunny’s hands leave my hair and ease down my back. Her palms find my ass, and she shifts forward. It’s magic for my dick. Anything besides my own hand is beyond awesome. She wiggles her fingers under my waistband. I’m commando. Underwear is mostly useless. My balls like to be free, not confined by material. This time I feel the sharp bite of her nails when she grabs my ass.

I’m cool with this kind of aggression. I’ve had sex with all kinds of women, from the quiet ones who like missionary, to the ones who think it’d be fun to tie me up and take control—not that I’ve ever let that happen.

I move the hand on her upper thigh to her waist. I don’t even try to go under her shirt. I keep it at her ribcage, my thumb two inches shy of the underside of her boob. Sunny has smallish boobs; they fit in my palm. And her nipples are little and pink. She can do the braless thing if she wants without it being obvious. They’re fucking awesome. I can’t wait to have them in my mouth.

The less I touch where she wants me to, the more frantic she gets. Sunny’s hand retracts from the back of my pants. She grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it up. I don’t break the kiss right away. Instead I keep going back to suck on her bottom lip and nibble on her chin. When she makes a frustrated noise I back off. She yanks my shirt over my head and tosses it on the floor, then sighs.

I’d say it doesn’t inflate my ego at all, but that’d be a total lie. Sunny knows exactly how hard I have to work to stay in shape. She appreciates the time and energy I spend conditioning my body. So, yeah, she’s ogling, but it’s not because she can’t wait to tell her friends she got to bag an NHL player.

She runs her fingers through my hair, nails scratching lightly down the sides of my neck. When she reaches my shoulders she pauses, her eyes moving over my chest and down my abs.

“You look so good without a shirt on. I wish it was summer all the time.”

“I won’t wear one while we’re in the house.”

“Or by the pool.” Her fingertips drift down my arms.

“I won’t even wear shorts, if that’s what you want. I’ll swing free all weekend, just for you.”

“Just for me, eh?”

There’s the cute Canadian twang I like so much.

“Mmm. Just for you.”

“That’d be fun, but the neighbors can see everything.”

“Aren’t they, like, ninety?”

“Yeah, but the old guy’s a pervert. He watches me sunbathe with binoculars.”

“Seriously?”

“Sometimes. He’s harmless. I doubt he’s had a real hard-on since the early nineties.”

“I’m gonna skinny dip tomorrow so I can make him jealous.”

Sunny laughs and runs her hands over my shoulders. “I think you want to get naked in front of me.”

“Look at how excited you are about me being shirtless. I don’t know if you can handle me naked, baby.” I grin at her put-out expression. Leaning in, I drop a kiss on the end of her nose, and another on her chin. “I’m fucking with you, Sunny. I think you can handle me fine.”

She cups the back of my neck, drawing me in for another kiss. Our tongues meet and tangle, softness changing to need as the kiss gets deeper and Sunny starts rubbing up on me. I cup her ass and help out with some friction.

Sunny’s hand wanders from my shoulder, down my arm to my side. I know where she’s headed when her fingertips reach the waistband of my shorts. Normally I’d be damn excited about this.

Unfortunately, I was in a rush getting to her, so I didn’t have time to rub one out before I got on the plane. It’s three in the morning. The last time I self-loved was yesterday. I whack a minimum of twice a day. Usually first thing in the morning and before bed. I’m behind, which means if she puts her hand on me, after two weeks of only my own, I’m likely to blow real fast. And I could probably use a quick clean-up with a razor. It’s not pretty in my pants right now.

Thankfully, we’re pressed up right against each other, and I’m grinding all over her, so it’s a struggle to get a hand between us. She gives up after a minute, her hands going back to my ass.

“Maybe we should go upstairs,” she says when I break free from her lips and kiss a path down her neck.

“That’s an idea.”

Except it will take us out of the moment. Plus, there’s something extra hot about making out with her in one of these hideous chairs, in the middle of her family living room. I scan the room; all the curtains are drawn, so her pervy neighbors can’t see inside. I decide I want to make her come here. That way, every time I have to sit in this room and chitchat with her parents, I’ll have this awesome memory.

I inch toward the top of her thigh. Sunny groans and her legs tighten on my hips.

“Let’s go to my room.”

“Whadda you wanna do up there that we can’t do here?” I bite her collarbone through her shirt.

Sunny arches, pushing her chest out. Her cleavage might be ruined by the damn sports bra, but it’s not padded; I can still see the faintest outline of nipple through her shirt. I brush over the spot with a knuckle.

“Miller.”

“’Sup, baby?” This time I slide a hand under her shirt, tickling along her ribs. When I reach that stupid bra I push it up until her breasts pop out the bottom. Now I can see her perfect nipples through the sheer fabric. It’s almost better than having an unobstructed view.

“Let’s just go—”

The words die when I cover her nipple with my mouth.

“Oh, God.” She wraps both arms around my head.

I’m kneading one boob while I suck on the other nipple, leaving a hand free. I feel my way up into her shorts until I reach the edge of her panties. I don’t go under, though, because that’s exactly what she wants me to do. Instead I follow the elastic down to the juncture of her thigh and the most exciting spots.

I could get her naked. It’d be superhot. But here’s the thing about foreplay: sometimes it’s hotter with clothes on. There’s something extra sexy about making a woman come fully dressed. Well, as much as Sunny’s outfit counts as being fully dressed.

I palm her through the damp cotton, and she tries to lift her hips. It’s a challenge considering her back is arched, and she’s sitting in a chair.

I release her nipple. The pale pink shirt sticks to her boob where it’s wet. “You still wanna go upstairs?”

Sunny blinks, her confusion cute. “What?”

“Upstairs? You wanna go there?” Her panties are blue with a tiny white and dark blue polka dot pattern. I slide the tip of my finger under the elastic at the crest of her pelvis.

“Right now?” Her expression is priceless.

“If you want.”

“I’m good here.”

“You sure are,” I mutter as I drag a knuckle over soft, smooth skin. She’s wet and hot, and dude, I want to go pussy diving so fucking bad. Maybe I’ll finally get to later tonight.

I unwrap her legs from around my hips, and Sunny shifts forward, slouching down. She drapes one leg over the arm of the chair, the other one I hook over my forearm. The view is fucking awesome.

I use my thumb to push her panties to the side, exposing that perfect pink slit.

“Know what I can’t stop thinking about?”

“Hmm?” Her gaze is slow to lift from where my fingers are.

“The way you look when you come.” I rub a few slow circles around her clit.

Sunny’s eyes close, and she bites her lip.

“And all those little moans when I find the right spot.” I slip one finger inside, and she makes the sound I’m hoping for. “Just like that.”

I add another finger, going deeper until her cheeks flush and her mouth drops open. She clutches my forearm.

“Holy—” she gasps. “Sweet—oh, God. I—Miller.” She draws out my name, eyes wide, her expression reflecting her need.

“Am I hitting the right spot?”

She nods furiously, her grip tightening. “You always hit the right spot.”

“Want me to fumble around a little?”

“No!” She digs her nails into my skin. “I’m right th—”

She contracts around my fingers, showing me what she was about to tell me. Sunny’s eyes meet mine, wide with shock. I don’t know why she’s always so surprised when she comes, like it’s unexpected.

She releases my arm and grabs my shoulders, pulling me forward until our lips collide. Her tongue shoots into my mouth, twisting with mine as she moans. I feel like the motherpucking man.

That is until she breaks the kiss, flops back in the chair, and says, “I kinda hate that you’re so good at that.”

There’s a bite to her words. Looks like she’s not as over the social media stuff as she thinks. I remove my hand from inside her panties, adjusting her underwear so they’re back in place, and lower her leg to the floor. “You hate that I can make you come with my fingers? Yeah, I can see how that’s real unfortunate. I can always pretend I don’t know what I’m doing.” I make a joke out of it, but there’s a weight in my chest. I don’t like it. I can’t help that I’m good at the sex.

“I don’t mean it the way you’re taking it.” She cups the back of my head to stop me from moving away. “It’s just that I come every time. What if I can’t do the same for you? It’s a lot of pressure, and I don’t have nearly as much practice . . .” She lets the sentence hang.

“You’re worried about not being able to get me off?” I sound confused because, well, I don’t get it. There isn’t much skill involved in stroking a cock. It’s essentially an up and down motion. Women aren’t nearly as mechanically simple.

“Well, yeah. I mean that happens, right? Sometimes guys can’t—”

“Blast the cannon?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess. I mean, I’d have to have some serious whiskey dick, or maybe if I whacked off, like, twenty times that day I might have a problem, but a strong breeze is usually enough to get me hard.”

Her eyes dart down, and her hand moves from my chest to my waistband, palming me. “You’re already hard.”

“Uh, yeah. I got to watch you come on my fingers. For sure I’m hard.”

“That turns you on?” I can’t tell if she’s surprised or curious.

“Definitely.”

She gives me a squeeze. “Fingering me made you this hard?”

Those words coming out of her mouth, combined with the feel of her hand on my dick, even through my shorts, reroutes even more blood below my waist. There are a lot of factors that got me to this level of hardness. It’s the argument, followed by the make-out session, and the way I can still see her nipples through her shirt because her bra is pushed up. It’s how she’s sitting in the chair, that she’s fully dressed, that I watched what I was doing while I was getting her off—all of it together makes me this hard. And the fact that I haven’t whacked it since yesterday morning.

But the simple answer is, “Yeah. Fingering you makes me this hard.”

“Oh. That’s . . . wow. I make you really hard.”

I hold back a laugh. “You sure fucking do, Sunny Sunshine.”

She goes for the zipper, and I put my hand over hers.

My balls are going to hate me. But I can’t have her hand on me yet. I’ll embarrass myself, so I use the only reasonable excuse I have for not wanting her to touch my dick. “Baby, I’ve been traveling all night. I should probably get cleaned up before you go sticking your hand down there.”

“I don’t mind. You smell good to me.” She makes another attempt.

I grab her hand and lift it to my lips. “Sunny, sweets, I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I share it, but I could use a shower.”

“You could shower after. It probably won’t take long, right?”

I can’t stop the laugh this time. “I’d much rather you put your hand on my dick when it’s freshly washed and hasn’t been marinating in my pants all day. And to be honest, I’d feel a lot better if it did take a long time—you know, instead of two minutes or less.”

“Oh! Right. Of course. Longer is always better.” Her huge grin is a front-row seat to a sunrise. It makes the near-embarrassment worth it. She adjusts her bra so her boobs aren’t hanging out the bottom, then swings her legs over the edge of the chair, bouncing to her feet. She holds out her hand. “Come on!”

I rearrange my dick so I’m not tenting my shorts and lace my fingers with hers.

I grab my bags from the front hallway on our way to the second floor. Sunny’s parents are smart when it comes to protecting their only daughter’s virtue. Her bedroom is down the hall from theirs. To get there, you have to pass the master suite. There’s an office separating their rooms, and the spare bedroom is at the very opposite end of the hall. That’s also where the staircase leading to the third floor is. Her brother had the room there growing up.

The two times I’ve stayed here previously I slept in the spare room. It’s a landmine of squeaky spots to get all the way to Sunny. I sure as hell tried. Also, Titan sleeps outside her door; he might be small, but he’s got a loud, yappy bark. I had to pretend I forgot where the bathroom was when her mom came out to see why he was making so much noise.

I head for the spare room out of habit, but Sunny grabs my hand and leads me down the hall. “You can use my bathroom.”

Sunny’s room resembles a student apartment. She has a quilt made out of concert T-shirts in place of a duvet. A desk takes up one corner to create an office-like space. It’s separated with strings of beads hanging from the ceiling. Titan comes running through the room, making the beads jingle as he jumps up on her desk chair. It spins around as he sits there, tongue lolling.

The best part about Sunny’s room is her bed. She has a California king. It’s the only mistake her parents made, from what I can see—that and leaving her alone this weekend so I could come and visit without supervision. If I had a daughter, she’d be sleeping in a single bed until she moved out. I want to get naked, roll around on her concert duvet, and test out her flexibility while we fuck our brains out on that huge bed.

But I need to shower first.