Puck Buddies Read online

  Lower he shifts, pausing to dip his tongue into the indent of my belly button. I can’t help but laugh. Belly button stimulation—Who would have thunk it?

  But my laughter soon turns into panting when his head falls between my legs.

  I’m ashamed of my heat and wetness there, moving to clamp my legs together, but Colton won’t have it. He presses my knees wide, takes in all of me with his hungry eyes. “Why would you want to hide this?” he says, before his head drops.

  I twitch in anticipation. Here we go again.

  I shudder, drawing in a pained breath, gripping at the sheets.

  He runs his tongue over my clit, dragging it lightly over the sensitive pearl. I convulse, pulling tight. “Ohhhh.”

  I bite my lip, fighting the throbbing between my legs as he sucks my clit, drawing it away from my body before letting it fall slacken once more, his tongue darting into the heated cleft of my pussy.

  My head kicks back. Still, he licks and sucks at my tender flesh, adding more pressure here, less there, always in control. Nerves I never knew I had are lit and stoked, sensation pooling between my legs and the urgency increasing by the second.

  “Yes,” I breathe out, an orgasm starting to build.

  “No,” he says, lifting his head away, “not yet.”

  I watch him climb upwards, his powerful pecs and tight abdominals at my beck and call, thick arms coming from broad shoulders, a man in the very best sense of the word. His cock is thick and proud before me.

  I shift onto my knees, keen to return the pleasure but daunted all the same by the sheer size of it. A tingle shoots through my sex.

  I extend my fingers and touch his cock. I wrap my hand around the girth of it, examining the smooth, velvety texture of his shaft. It jerks in my grip, alive.

  I start to pump it lightly, adding a second hand to the first and using both to jerk him off but still only covering half his length.

  His cock throbs inside my grip. I continue to stroke his length, still wondering how in the hell I’m going to get this thing inside me, because it is going to happen, one way or another.

  I stroke around the bulbous head of him, stroking all the way down to his balls. His head drops back and he sighs, lost in the sensation.

  I lean forward and place him in my mouth once more, only able to take a few inches at first, but enough for him to grip my head and mew his approval.

  Pleased, he starts to rock forward deeper into my mouth. I wrap my tongue around the hot helmet of his cock, lashing his glans until he’s begging to go deeper, to fill my throat.

  I pull him away. “I can’t take any more. I want you inside me.”

  He answers with a smile, reaching to the side of the bed and reappearing with a wrapper in hand, quietly sheathing himself before me. Even this simple act drives the anticipation to the breaking point.

  I drop back onto the mattress, watching as he takes hold of his cock and places it against the wet mouth of my pussy. His heat against mine, the delightful pressure to come… It’s almost too much. Sparks shoot up and down my spine in anticipation.

  This is it.

  He kneels, lifting me up by the torso so my ass comes off the bed, smiling as he runs his length up and down my wetness. “Are you ready?”

  I simply nod, unable to speak.

  I literally stop breathing when he presses forward, slowly sliding into my slickness inch by solid inch.

  I bite my lip before I scream in delight. He fills me slowly, still smiling before pulling out.

  “No!” I plead, jerking my hips upwards to feel him again.

  He laughs, sliding forward deeper now, his fat cock filling me in the most incredible way possible.

  I wrap my legs around him, eager for more, to prove I can take him. He responds by grabbing my hips and driving in deeper.

  He drives forward again, his cock running deep.

  My arms and thighs are slick with perspiration, my fingers clawing deeper and deeper into the sheets against this onslaught. My pelvis drops, rising again to slam against his, more of him swallowed by my hungry sex.

  I feel the root of him and realize I’ve taken him completely. The thought sends a new shiver of release pulsing to my pelvis.

  We grind against one another, Colton drawing out of my body before stroking in long and deep, his strong hands holding my hips for leverage.

  He draws almost all the way out and the emptiness, the loss, is almost too much to bear. I reach up and pull him forward, wanting to cry at how incredible it is having him inside me. I lock my heels behind his buttocks and squeeze, pressing him forward into me over and over until I’m teetering on the edge of release.

  “God,” I cry out, knowing divine intervention is pointless given I’m already in heaven. The way his hard body rocks against my clit, the body of his cock stretching me out, heat and tiny tremors spiraling around and around… It builds, the tsunami of sensation, rising and rising until I know there is no escape but to give into it completely.

  “Colton,” I call out, but I don’t know if it’s a cry for help or encouragement to push me further under.

  Whatever is building inside me is doing so with such power and ferocity I genuinely fear for my wellbeing should I allow it to consume me.

  Colton’s sweating with the effort, brows knotted as he builds up into a quicker rhythm, the wet slap, slap, slap of our bodies echoing off the walls. I hold still, rocking and arching against him, the top of his cock adding pressure to the top of my pussy, to that magic, unicorn spot I never believed existed until now.

  I don’t know why, but I reach up to hold my breasts, my fingers pulling at my nipples. Colton’s pale eyes lock on the sight. He powers forward, each stroke hammering me deep into the mattress. I’m powerless against him. Every downstroke bumps against my clit, a constant.

  His hips speed up and I start to lose control, incoherent blurts of sound loosed from my lips, squealing like an animal as I reach completion.

  “Col—” I can’t finish the word as my climax overruns me. I stiffen from head to foot, spasming and convulsing, as Colton gives a final thrust in release.

  My eyes roll back in my head, my body twitching and slumping, limp and electric at the same time.

  There’s too much sensation, I think. Wave after wave of bliss engulf me, heat rising and falling from within until, finally, my mind starts to fall back into my body and I can start to take stock of what just happened.

  A tear comes to my eye, running over the lid to trail down my cheek. Colton, still inside me, still pulsing, leans down to wipe it away. “What is it?” he asks, panic in his voice. “Did I hurt you?”

  I quiver again, smiling and wiping away another. “No, not at all. Quite the opposite.”

  He kisses me, crushing his lips against mine and leaving no room for breath, for further thought.

  I’m still not entirely sure what happened, only that this has moved way beyond a quick fling.

  We lie in each other’s arms content and comfortable. I’m warm as a kitten, nuzzling against him, letting his lips explore my neck, the area under my earlobe where I’ve always been so ticklish.

  Eventually, Colton rises and heads to the bathroom. “How do you feel about a bath?” he calls. “You could host a pool party in this thing.”

  “Sure,” I call back, my voice unsteady.

  I place my fingers against the slick seam between my legs and squeeze my eyes shut, my thighs clamping against my wrist, my hips snapping upwards in delight.

  I take my fingers away, surprised at how sensitive he’s made me.

  OMG, people. We have arrived.

  While Colton runs the bath, I find my mind filled with questions. Pangs of pleasure, small aftershocks of sensation continue internally. I let them come and go, thinking about where I am, what I’m doing here.

  Three times isn’t a hookup, is it? I wonder. That’s more than a one-night anything. It’s serious… right?

  I don’t know. This is uncharted territory f
or me. I’ve been with James so long, any kind of prior sexual activity so forgettable, I simply can’t place what’s going on here, with me, with Colton, with any of it.

  Some master thinker you are.

  It’s one thing to study culture. It’s quite another to study yourself.

  I’m oddly intrigued when the answer to my little conundrum doesn’t immediately come to me. It’s nice, in a way, to be confused, unsure. Because this could be more, much more.

  The water stops running after a few minutes.

  Colton returns to the bed with two flutes. “Champagne, m’lady?”

  I sit and take one, surprised at how at ease I feel around him so naked, my nipples remaining rosy and erect.

  “You’re hard again,” I note.

  His eyes run over my body. “If you were in my shoes, you’d be too.”

  “I don’t know. The idea of having a penis, swinging around between your legs all day like that… It’s…”

  “Weird?” he offers. “A bit like the idea of having this hole between your legs that bleeds once a month you push a human out of?”

  “Touché,” I concede.

  “What are we?” I ask, letting my thoughts roam free.

  “Don’t name it,” he tells me, leaning down to kiss me, the tingly taste of bubbles on his lips.

  “Okay,” I agree, and, strangely, I’m good with it.

  Still, there’s a kinship and safety with Colton I’ve never felt with anyone. If there is more to this, I’d like to explore it, but it’s going to require his cooperation.

  “Your family, what are they like?” I ask.

  “You want to meet my brothers already? I’ve heard of moving quickly, but…”

  I give him a shove, almost drive him right off the bed. “Don’t be an ass. I’m curious, that’s all.”

  “Well, Cay’s got everything—the wife, the contract, the kids. I suppose he’s the Beckett poster boy. Mason, he’s the eldest. He met this small town girl, Jeanie, so I suppose he’s on the same bandwagon, and Hunter? He’s still in LA busting heads, breaking hearts… It’s what we do.”

  “Are you going to break my heart?”

  “Like your cock jockey of an ex?” He shakes his head. “Don’t let the person who didn’t love you keep you from the one who will,” he says, adding, “whether that’s me or the next guy, you deserve to be happy.”

  “Wow, I didn’t know you were such a—”

  “Philosopher?” he laughs. “I’ve been called many things, but ‘deep’ is not one of them.”

  “We’ve got a great philosophy department here at Branton, you know.”

  He sits forward, emptying his lungs. “Honestly? I’m in purgatory here. Not here here with you, but here in this place, this town with its damn weather, shitty stores and five-pin bowling.”

  “What’s wrong with five-pin bowling?” I tease. “It’s great… if you’re a kid… or drunk.”

  “You’ve just described the last five years of my life, but seriously, I had it all back home. I was heading towards my own contract, just like Cay—the best school, my brothers, and look where I am now?”

  I hide the irritation. “You’re with me, but I get it. I do. Branton’s not the first choice for anyone, but I’m here, you’re here and we have to make the most of it.”

  And the silence that follows couldn’t be any louder.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  COLTON

  Ricky slaps me on the ass, turning on the shower beside me. I thought that kind of kinky bro shit was limited to the States.

  Ricky runs his hands over his head, eyes closed against the stream of water. “What happened to the pitbull, Beckett?”

  One hand against the wall, water funneling between my shoulder blades, I look sideways at him. “Pitbull? That some Canuck pickup line?”

  His eyes open. “I’m saying, that can of whoop ass you unleased on us earlier is evaporating. That would be a bad thing if this gentle giant bullshit wasn’t even better.”

  “You’re calling me soft?”

  He puts his hands up, swiveling to face me. “Not at all. I’m just sayin’ you seem less like a steam train with a chip on its shoulder and more of a surgeon these days—clinical, calm. So, what’s up? You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” He glances down. “’Cause those balls ain’t blue.”

  I flick water at him. “What do you know about my balls?”

  “Something has changed. The whole team knows it. Even Coach. You come off the ice these days and you could double for Gandhi you’re so chill.”

  I stare at the wall. I hadn’t noticed it, but I suppose I have toned down the sledgehammer routine. Fuck knows why, but I’m starting to like these guys. I don’t want to send them to the sick bay.

  There is another reason.

  Harper.

  At the hotel it was like she was trying to make up for a whole lifetime of missed sexual opportunities, much to my pleasure.

  “Yeah,” I confess, “I am seeing someone.”

  Ricky slow claps. “Atta boy. Anyone I know?”

  “She’s not a student,” I tell him, and ain’t that the fucking truth.

  “Oooo,” he coos, “town girl. Bet you’ve been pounding her ass real nice, am I right? Given that weapon I bet girls need a walking frame after a night with you.”

  I smile, think about what happened in her office, the way her mouth was caught open, her entire body at the mercy of my mouth. And fuck did she taste amazing, her pussy squeezing my fingers tight.

  I quickly shut off the taps before I go full salute and give Ricky here the wrong impression. “You could say that.”

  He shakes his head as I head to the bench to towel off. “You’re a fucking animal, Beckett,” he calls, adding a “Ahhh-ooooo!” to drive home the point.

  Fifteen minutes later I’m actually looking forward to walking into the college bar. The same shitty grunge is playing, but it’s all growing on me—this place, the Beebs, my team… Harper.

  Commitment has never been my strong suit, but she’s as close as I’ve come to something I could envision seeing myself with longer than a week. A lifetime of that kind of sex? Sign me the hell up.

  The sex is great, but it would be nothing without the woman behind it—the real turn-on. She’s got all the potential in the world. She just doesn’t know how to eke it out, but I can show her, prove to her she’s more than this place, this town.

  I arrive at our usual table and knock the surface twice. “Knock knock.”

  “Beckett!” comes the communal cry. I’m pulled down into a seat, a beer slipped into my hand.

  “So,” Andy starts, an arm around my shoulder, “you know it’s karaoke night, right?”

  Fuck me.

  I nod to the tiny stage in the corner barely big enough for a mic stand. “Kind of figured given the way that guy’s shitting all over Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

  Andy stands, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Attention, inbreeds. Uncle Sam here says he’s got the vocal stylings of Bruno Mars. Who wants to hear him sing?”

  A boisterous cheer goes up. Me and my big fucking mouth.

  I’m hoisted up by the team and shoved towards the stage, the poor guy (trying to) sing Nirvana cut off as a mic is shoved into my hand. “I’m not singing O Canada,” I tell the guys, “or Sk8ter Boi.”

  Andy ruffles my hair. “Fuck, man. Don’t go disrespecting Avril like that.”

  “At least give me something made in the USA.”

  Andy smiles, pulling the laptop over and punching in a song. “I don’t know about something made in the USA, but how about something born in the USA?”

  The following rendition of the Bruce Springsteen classic soon turns into a giant group singalong, even Old Man River behind the bar getting in on the action.

  The song finishes and the place erupts. I’m dragged back to the table to another round, a group of girls joining us all too keen to sample The Springsteen for themselves.

  I’m having a great
time, sure, but through it all I’m thinking of Harper. I want to see her, be with her.

  Ricky arrives, taking a seat beside me. “I could hear that shit halfway across campus.”

  I take a swig of my beer. “Don’t they teach you assholes how to sing?”

  The topic of conversation soon turns to what’s coming after college. As we move around the table I start to realize how low these guys are setting the bar. No matter what happens to me, I’ve got money to fall back on, a future of some sort, but these guys? They’re aspiring to a two-bedder in the ’burbs and a good dental plan. A couple of them are seriously talented players, but they know the NHL isn’t going to be knocking on their doors.

  I’m more surprised by the genuine interest they’re taking in my life. They ask about my brothers, what it was like at Abbotsleigh. I tell them, leave nothing out. I owe them that much.

  I check my watch and realize it’s close to midnight. The karaoke’s continuing, but I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind if someone sings I’m a Gummy Bear again.

  My cell starts to vibrate in my pants. I take it out.

  It’s Harper.

  Outside, I answer with one finger plugging my ear. “It’s loud, sorry.”

  “Where are you?” she asks.

  “College bar.”

  She laughs. “On karaoke night?”

  “Let’s just say Springsteen’s rolling in his grave.”

  “He’s dead?”

  “He will be when he hears that.”

  “You up for a late-night walk?”

  “Always.”

  “Meet me down by the river in five minutes, near that Narnia-looking light post thingy.”

  “My cock’s been called many things, but a—”

  I can imagine how hard she’s eye-rollin’ me right now. “Just get down there, will you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I say a quick goodbye and make my way down to the small river that weaves its way around the perimeter of Branton. The moon shifts in and out of the cloud cover above, the surface of the icy water lit in patchy spots of silver.

  Harper’s standing under the lamppost, her hands in her coat pockets, a smile on her face. She’s the dictionary definition of a snow bunny with flakes in her hair and puffy jacket. I brush a snowflake off her lower lip, let my finger linger there against the wet heat of it. “You look beautiful.”