Puck Buddies Page 3

  My cock stiffens at the thought of how cozy and comfortable it will be sliding into her heat and wetness, the warmth of her lips as they grip and release my length.

  I need to get this show back on the road before it details to Dull Town. “You changed the subject.”

  She acts dumb, so cute and adorably fuckable I can barely contain my load. “Did I?”

  “Yes, I was talking about taking your clothes off and admiring that beautiful body you’re trying to hide.”

  The compliment hits home, but she’s still playing hard to get. “Honestly,” she says, swallowing, “you’re not really my type.”

  Bullshit. I’m every girl’s type, maybe not the kind of guy they want to bring home to Daddy, but certainly the one they want to tell their friends about once they can walk again.

  I gesture around the bar. “And these yokels are your type? I mean, Jesus, do these guys even know how to go down on a girl? Do they even know what a clitoris is?” I’m talking louder than I should, but let them hear, let ‘Harper’ know I’m not here to play games.

  “And you,” I ask, trying to keep the conversation afloat, “what do you do?”

  She looks away shyly and my cock does its best to pop out of my pants. “I don’t think it’s important.”

  “You’re a librarian, aren’t you?”

  Cayden used to call this maneuver the ‘book angle.’ It’s the Swiss clock of pickup routines: Works every time.

  She scoffs, picking up her friend’s cocktail and tipping it back. “Whatever gives you that impression?”

  “You just seem like the,” I pretend I’m hunting for the word, “‘chilly’ type, is all.”

  “Chilly?!” she exclaims. “You’re calling me, what? Frigid? I barely know you.”

  Outrage looks good on her. “You’ve never had a one-night stand, have you? Fuck it. I bet you’ve never even had an orgasm, eh?”

  Usually this is a throwaway line, but the lack of response is even better than I’d hoped for. It’s written all over her cute, button face.

  She’s never come.

  If my cock was hard before, this new information practically has it reaching for the stars.

  We’ll see about that.

  “I see,” I respond, laying on the Beckett smile, the charm so ingrained in my brothers and me. God, we were unstoppable when we were together at Abbotsleigh. Not a single cooch on campus was safe.

  I watch her carefully, the way her features shift, harden. She’s buying into it.

  “This is ridiculous,” she says, looking down.

  I raise her chin with a finger, look deep into the amber, single malt of her eyes, their warm depths hiding her arousal. “On the contrary. You’re clearly in need of a service, and I can provide said service—free of charge, I might add.”

  “Free?” she laughs. “Aren’t you the philanthropist.”

  I span my hands out. “I do what I can.”

  “You’re quite full or yourself, aren’t you?” she remarks, growing bolder. “Are you compensating for something?”

  I take her hand and place it against my crotch. It’s a risky fucking move, borderline, but she doesn’t move to pull it away. “Can you feel that?” I whisper, leaning forward to speak into the perfect cup of her ear. “Does it feel like I’m compensating?”

  She swallows again. “I… ah…”

  “Can you feel how hard my cock is simply sitting here with you, clothed, those hot curves hidden away? Give me a chance and I’ll guarantee you’ll be screaming my name come morning, begging me for more.”

  Now she pulls her hand away, holding it like it’s been pressed against a hot plate. “A guarantee?”

  “You come, I go. Simple as that.”

  “Simple, you say?”

  I lean right over to her, my lips brushing the fine hairs on the side of her neck, her intoxicating, vanilla scent overwhelming my senses and making me crave her more. “You want to. You want to do something wild for once, something completely crazy, don’t you? I’m saying let it be me. What do you have to lose but sleep?”

  I know I’m in when I pull back. The way her shoulders have relaxed, the way she’s starting to shift her entire body forward and ever so slightly open her legs. It all points to ‘yes.’

  She runs her fingers through her hair again. “Let’s say, purely hypothetical, I decide to fall for this act, there are no strings, no attachments, right?”

  I put my hands up. “Not at all. You’ll get off—free and easy.”

  The cogs are turning. She’s thinking it over, trying to justify it to herself. I kind of wish her hippie friend would return and push her into it, tell her to stop trying to overanalyze it all and get down to the fucking. After all, we’re not shopping for wedding rings here, and picket fences are for pussies.

  I think of Cayden, now out of the game. Looking at you, big brother.

  No, this is Wall Street—pump, dump and move the hell on.

  Harper places the cocktail on the bar and stands, those skinny jeans doing their best to hide an ass I’m going to ride so fucking hard tonight. “Clearly,” she says, “I’ve lost my mind.”

  All I need to do is smile and offer her my hand. “Follow me.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HARPER

  This is madness. Mindy’s right. I’ve left my brain back at campus.

  What next? Gangbang with the curling team. Dogging out the back of Trader Joe’s?

  The Harper I know, or at least I thought I knew, doesn’t go home with random guys… no matter how outrageously gorgeous they may be.

  But God do I need this. I need the release, to prove to myself I’m desirable and perhaps more—that I’m not Elsa the Ice Queen when it comes to the bedroom.

  Because screw you and your bendy penis, James. I can do better.

  We’re at Colton’s place, a cozy granny flat with barely anything inside it save for a collection of beer bottles on the kitchen counter and a single large sport bag on the bedroom floor.

  It’s warm, condensation on the windows, snow falling in soft sheets outside.

  Colton has his hands on my face, deepening the kiss. I have to admit, I like the taste of him, the way his hard body presses against mine. Compared to James, he may as well be Mr. Universe. Before I know it he’s shed his shirt to reveal a planed chest leading to cut abs. Ink runs down his side and arms, too intricate to make out… or perhaps I’m simply too caught up in the way his fingers are raking through my hair, his tongue probing for mine.

  This is not the Harper Dunham I know. My sex life up until this point has been completely unremarkable—‘Boredom is my middle name’ James and before that a string of high-school boyfriends all as useless as the next, poking in the dark trying to find my hole like it was a Where’s Waldo map.

  Colton is different. His breathing is deep, his hands constantly moving, gripping and releasing, exploring.

  Before I know it I’m down to my bra. His cock tents out his pants, the outline of it thicker than I imagined. I always thought smooth-talkers like Colton were of the small penis variety, but that does not seem like the case here. No, ma’am.

  I let him kiss the side of my neck, suck at the delicate skin there, walk that fine border between pleasure and pain.

  My mouth loosens, my eyes close. The mess of my life is already slipping away. In its place is heat and passion—pure energy.

  I’m easing into it, actually enjoying myself, and so what if this is a one-time thing? I’m an adult. Can’t I have a little fun every once in a while? I’m a fun person… right?

  You keep telling yourself that, the uber-annoying voice in my head answers.

  Things are perfect until Colton breaks away, turning me around and pushing me over the edge of the bed with my ass out.

  I look over my shoulder to see him smiling, slowly drawing down the zipper on his jeans. “Take off your pants.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  Why? Great way to break the mood, Harper.

  Co
lton stops. “Why? Because I want to fuck you, that’s why.”

  He comes forward, reaching for the waistband of my pants. “Here. Let me help. I want to see that perfect ass of yours.”

  I’m sort of disappointed. What happened to the foreplay, the promise of an orgasm? All this and he wants to get straight to the P-in-V?

  Just another guy who only cares only about his cock.

  It settles on me like a prickly blanket. This isn’t going to work, but I’m going to give him a piece of my mind whether he wants it or not.

  I stand and push him back.

  He looks offended, inkpot eyebrows folding together. “What the hell’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” I laugh, feeling foolish and exposed. “You sure made it seem like you were going to get me off. You guaranteed it, if I recall.”

  He reaches down to grope his crotch. “And I will. I’m a man of my word.”

  I gather my shirt off the floor, shaking my head. “You’re just like the rest.”

  I kneel down to pick up my top when he takes me around the waist from behind, lifting me to my feet. “What are you doing?”

  He doesn’t answer, instead pressing up behind me and sliding a hand down the front of my panties.

  My eyes go wide. I’m looking straight into a full-length mirror, at the shock on my face, the way my mouth is a perfectly round ring, at this stranger’s hand disappearing into my pants.

  Fingers. Searching. Going deeper.

  I should stop him, turn away, but the confidence of the action, the way he nuzzles into my shoulder, his breath hot on the side of my neck, I can’t… I’m paralyzed.

  Colton doesn’t require a map to find his way around. His fingers go straight to my clit.

  I gasp aloud as he applies pressure, my spine straightening.

  “You’re wet,” he whispers. “Really. Fucking. Wet.”

  That single syllable almost does it.

  I flush a deep, shameful red because he’s right. One finger concentrates on my clit, while another runs downwards, slipping easily into the slick heat of my pussy, the front of my jeans pressed out as Colton continues his exploration.

  I don’t know what to do with my hands, standing there frozen in the mirror, my breathing rapid and shallow. I’m going to hyperventilate before I get off, I realize. The paramedics are going to find me unconscious, half-dressed.

  A second finger joins the first inside me. My entire body relaxes, my hips shifting forward to meet Colton’s hand of their own accord.

  I thought it was hot in here before, but now it’s a damn inferno. I close my eyes, can’t breathe or think, only be seduced by the masterful way Colton applies pressure here and there, his fingers running in and out of my body, curling upwards against the sensitive roof of my sex, everything pulling into my center and building, building like never before.

  He holds me around the waist, cradles me against him. The tip of his tongue traces around the shell of my ear as he circles my clit in languid figure-eights. I’m pulsing down there and it’s new and unfamiliar and completely strange.

  The sensation builds, his fingers shifting faster, the crotch of my panties soaked through as his knuckles dig and drag against it.

  My legs are weak and limp. I want to collapse, but he holds me tightly, his cock hard and long against the globes of my ass, jerking against it, lightly fucking me clothed from behind, forcing me against his fingers.

  My head rolls on my shoulders, my eyes squeezed shut because I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s scary, this freefall, this abandon, but I want to move closer to the edge. I want to jump.

  “Come,” Colton whispers, barely audible, a soft command.

  “Come,” he repeats, louder, more pressure against my clit until I crest higher, my legs shifting apart to allow him greater access.

  “I want to feel it,” he says, voice steady and even, that delicious rasp ever-present. “I want you to come, to squeeze my fingers… to fucking drown them. Can you do that?”

  I open my eyes, see myself and lose all sense of reality.

  The feeling inside me, this drawing of sensation, is relentless. It’s too great, the wave too high. I can’t escape it.

  “I, I—” I sputter, unable to put together an intelligible sentence.

  “Say it,” he continues.

  “I’m… I’m going to…”

  ‘What?” he pushes.

  The edge is so close. My eyes shutter closed again and I can’t hold it back any longer. “…come,” I gasp, with whatever breath I have left before I plunge into the void.

  Pleasure as I’ve never known it slams into me, enough to hammer me back and forward against him, my entire body shaken by an unseen specter, a force from another world.

  My sex convulses, gripping and releasing the fingers buried deep inside me, my clit thrumming and pulsing against the pad of his finger.

  My vision blurs around the edges, the galaxy behind my eyes folding inwards and I don’t know whether to be terrified or ecstatic, only that I want more, again and again and again.

  Sorry, chocolate, but there’s a new love in my life.

  I want to lose consciousness, to melt into the floor, but Colton holds me firmly, his fingers easing away and, before I know it, his hand is gone completely.

  He turns me around.

  My eyes open and I see the smile on his face, the smug ‘told you so.’

  Reality ebbs in as my orgasm fades.

  What the hell are you doing, Harper?

  I don’t know. I’m not in control. I’m lost here.

  I’ve gone home with a stranger and he’s bewitched me. I’m Hansel hiding out in his candy house and the only place left to go is the oven.

  “Everything okay?” he asks, eyes cocked and bright.

  I shake my head. This isn’t right. I don’t do this, whatever this, whatever that was.

  You’re scared of the unknown, that’s all.

  I rebel against my inner voice. No. No, no, no.

  I run my hair behind my ear, conscious of how sweaty I am, the weak ache between my legs still yearning for more. “I… I don’t know what to say?”

  He’s putting on his shirt, collecting my things off the floor. “What are you doing?” I ask, the shock still running through me.

  In truth, I’m floored. I never expected he’d come through, that my very first climax would come from a complete stranger.

  “That was fun,” he says, handing me my clothes and already walking to the door. “But you should go.”

  I dress confused, my head racing. “Go? What are you talking about?”

  I sound desperate, but the truth is, I am. He’s shown me the gateway drug. Now I want the full hit.

  He opens the door, waiting. “I’ll see you around.”

  “That’s it?” I can’t help but verbalize it.

  “It was nice to meet you,” he says, oblivious to the question.

  What. The. Hell? Now he’s felt me up he no longer wants to sleep with me? I don’t get this at all, yet I find myself walking through the door, staring at it in disbelief when it closes behind me.

  I turn and start to walk, the snow falling around my shoulders and that wonderful ache refusing to go away even as my anger rises.

  Was I just used? Did he not enjoy it? Was I too wet or loose or not loud enough? Was he only trying to prove a point?

  I think of these questions and more, going over and over them until they’re red and raw, only questions, stupid, cursed questions to comfort me during the long walk home.

  *

  I wake to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I open my eyes and find Mindy crouched beside my bed, waving said coffee in front of my face like a magic wand. She’s combed her bangs down a la Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. All she’s missing is a cigarette.

  Why can’t I be that cool?

  I sit up and reach for the jitter juice. “You’re a god send.”

  “And you got home late, which means…”

>   “Nothing,” I reply, using the mug to shield myself.

  Mindy doesn’t buy it. “Bullshit, which either means Mr. Bright Eyes was either a-freakin’-mazing between the sheets or… lacking.” She traces my face with her finger in the air. “Though given the strange glow you’re sporting, I’d say the former.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, but I’m fifty shades of red.

  She stands, looking down at me. “He didn’t… did he?”

  I remain silent.

  Her hands go to her face. “Holy shit. He cracked the code, didn’t he?”

  I can’t hide it, a wry smile beginning to break behind the mug.

  “You climaxed, came, consummated… You have arrived, Harpie.”

  I hold the mug out as she crushes me in a hug.

  “Welcome to the sisterhood, my friend. Welcome.”

  I place the coffee down before I wear it. “Before we start cleansing our yonis and comparing mantra words, perhaps I could have a moment to get up and get dressed. It is Monday, you know.”

  She releases me. “And the first day of your new existence.”

  I roll my eyes. “I had an orgasm, Mindy. I’m not joining a cult.”

  She wags her finger. “But ah, there you are wrong. You think that cup of joe is addictive? You just wait.”

  I want to protest, but in a way she’s right. I do want to come again… just not with that inky-haired asshole who threw me out like the Sunday paper. I mean, WTF, dude. Seriously.

  As per usual, the rest of the morning is a blur as I dress and rush out the door with toast in mouth, clutching my phone and laptop, chasing down the bus.

  The whole time I try to justify what went on last night. I put it down to a temporary psychological blip, a moment of madness that shall not be repeated nor spoken of again.

  Was it fun? In a dirty, diversional sort of way, sure.

  Leave it at that, Harper, and move on.

  I’m actually feeling back to my normal self when the bus pulls up.

  I arrive on campus shortly after eight and power for the lecture hall.

  Most of the students are already seated when I enter from the side door. I come up to the desk down the front of the hall and start arranging my things still huffing from the powerwalk.