Pucked Page 21

Before I consider my actions, I save the best pics to my iPad. My rationale? I’ve seen her in less. Even as guilt gnaws at me, I scan to make sure I’ve got all the good ones. Darren comes out of the shower, so I tuck away my iPad. My invasion of privacy is shameful. Everything I’ve done in the past twenty-four hours is reprehensible on so many levels. I’m disappointed in myself. But I’ll probably whack off to the pictures when I’m alone anyway.


My mother rises at the ass crack of dawn, even on the weekends. I’ve been asleep for less than two hours post stealth departure from Alex’s room when pounding on my door shocks me awake.

“Rise and shine, Vi! It’s time for shopping! We’re hitting the outlet mall bright and early!” Her shrill excitement is an awful way to wake up.

The clock on the nightstand reads seven thirty. On a Sunday morning. What the hell is wrong with her? “Go away!” I shove my head under the pillow.

As my mind wakes up, last night—or this morning—returns in a flash of orgasms. I had a lot of them. Judging by the soreness below the waist, I won't soon forget them, either.

“You have twenty minutes to get ready. Sidney wants to hit Denny’s before the breakfast rush, and we’re flying out this afternoon. We need to get a move on!”

My stomach rumbles, sharing the enthusiasm for breakfast. I can’t argue with Denny’s. Besides, my mom isn’t going to go away; she’ll stand outside my door and annoy me until I open it.

“I need half an hour,” I say through a yawn.

“If I don’t hear the shower come on in five minutes, I’ll get Sidney to bust down your door,” she replies cheerfully.

Despite the threat, I don’t get out of bed right away. Instead, I check my phone. I have a voice mail from an unknown number. My stomach flips as I key in the code and listen to the message. It’s Alex. His sexy-as-fuck sleepy voice wakes up my beaten-down beaver. Shit. He has my glasses and wants to return them. That seems to defeat the purpose of a one-night stand. Although, being Buck’s teammate also ensures I’ll see him again, anyway. I listen to the message a few more times and save it. Now is not the time to call him; I’m on too little sleep to make good decisions where Alex and his magic monster cock is concerned.

I get out of bed and wobble to the bathroom like a newborn foal. My entire body aches as if I climbed a mountain with a fifty pound weight strapped to my back and finished it off with an Iron Man. My beaver has its own pulse. Today is going to be rough.

After a marathon morning of shopping with my mom while Sidney hangs out with some of his coach homies, we catch our afternoon flight to Chicago. Shoved in the pocket in front of my seat, along with the pamphlet on plane evacuation procedures, is a gossip rag. I flip aimlessly through it, not really paying attention to the content until I come across a picture of Alex. Some skanky, hot girl is wrapped around him, practically humping his leg. I check out the date on the cover; it’s from last week. Great. Now I’m the flavor of the week.

My mom grabs the magazine out of my hand. “Oh, he’s cute. Didn’t you meet him last night?”

“Who knows,” I grumble. “They’re all the same. Just a bunch of asshole players.”

“That’s not true. Buck’s a sweetheart.”

Sidney scoffs. “Buck’s about as sweet as a bucket of vinegar.”

By the time we land in Chicago, I’m exhausted. Sex and shopping wear a girl out. I’m all for going directly to bed, but Charlene’s car is parked in the driveway behind my SUV. I grab my suitcase and head for the pool house while Sidney carries all of my mom’s overnight bags to the house.

Charlene clearly used her spare key since I find her sitting on my couch, watching hockey highlights.

“Why haven’t you messaged me? What the hell is going on? You need to explain this.” Charlene holds up a full-color printout of two people playing tonsil hockey.

I grab it out of her hands. “Where did you get this?” It’s not one picture; it’s an entire stack.

“From the Internet, where else? I can’t believe you made out with Alex Waters and didn’t bother to text me or send an action selfie.”

I flop on the couch. My glasses don’t seem like such a big deal anymore, not compared to this. I’ve been in the paper before. I’ve even inadvertently appeared in magazine spreads. Until now I’ve always been in the background—a vague blur of female form. Not this time. Me and my tongue are front and center in Alex’s mouth.

Booze is the only way to manage this. I go straight for the liquor cabinet. I have two bottles to choose from: vodka and Sour Puss Apple. Vodka tastes terrible straight, so I opt for the Sour Puss. I set up three shot glasses and pour the electric green liquor before downing two and passing one to Char.

“What in the world happened at the game?”

“The pictures are pretty self-explanatory. We were mouth fucking.”

“‘Mouth fucking’?”

I grin despite the mess of a situation. “Like that?”

“I think you should try to slip it into casual conversation tomorrow.” Charlene tips her shot glass and makes a face as she swallows. “What else happened?”

“I had sex with him.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Her shock is reasonable; it’s totally un-me.


“You’re not kidding.” She holds out her shot glass, so I pour her another and two more for myself. “Were you drunk?”

Source: www_Novel22_Net

Prev Next