Page 33 of Absolutely Pucked (Punk as Puck #3)

CHAPTER

TWENTY

KILLIAN

I wanted him to tell Tucker. I needed him to tell Tucker. I couldn’t keep living in this fucking limbo. Lying in the bed, listening to them laugh, was gutting. Hearing my brother’s voice had been almost too much because I knew that tone wouldn’t last if he knew that I was hiding in the back room.

With Ford’s goodbye kiss, I realized then and there that he was reaching the point where he might never tell Tucker the truth. I could see the bargaining in his eyes. He wanted this, and he wanted the life he was living. But there was no way to reconcile both.

I knew my brother too well. He was happier now, but he wasn’t a fundamentally different person. He was still the stubborn bastard he’d always been. When he had his mind made up about something, nothing could sway him.

I could show him a mountain of evidence about Delia and everything she’d said to me—I could have had cameras documenting my every step to prove that I hadn’t swept into his hospital room and stolen her right out from under him, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

He decided for himself what was the truth, and I could either accept it, say my apology and leave, or I could put Ford in the worst situation he’d ever been in.

The echo of his kiss was still burning on my lips when I heard the front door open. I was still too afraid to venture out there. Almost all of his friends had keys to his place, and they were starting to get suspicious. But it didn’t take long for me to recognize his gait.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later with a plate of food. “How did I know you weren’t going to eat?”

“I was afraid Boden was going to come back,” I confessed, taking it from him. He’d reheated it, and I shoveled a few bites into my mouth before gulping down the water he’d also brought. Beside me, Ford was busy stripping down and taking his leg off. “How was the drive back?”

He said nothing for a long time. I didn’t watch—I knew I had permission, but I wanted to give him a few moments of privacy because it felt like I was taking up all of his space now. He slipped into loose pajama pants, then hopped over to the bathroom.

By the time he returned, I had cleared my plate, and he was standing in front of me, shirtless, eyes hungry, but the rest of his face looked conflicted.

“If you don’t want me to bring up Tucker again—” I started.

“Did he bully you in school?”

My heart hammered against my chest. That was something I never spoke to people about. Ever. I brought it up to my therapist once, but the truth was, the pain of it was overwhelming, and if I let myself, I’d spiral into the scared, depressed, lonely kid I’d been back then.

“He did, didn’t he?” Ford lowered himself to the bed and moved up until his back was pressed against the wall. He wasn’t looking directly at me, which made this a little easier.

“You know that doesn’t negate what happened between us, right?” I was afraid he was searching for a reason to choose this. “We were teenagers.”

Ford shook his head. “No, I get that. I’m not…it’s not my place to be pissed at him for being a jackass when he was prepubescent or whatever. The Tucker I know now would never do that to anyone.”

“So why ask?”

“I just…I don’t know.” Ford blew out a puff of air, then looked up at me. “Why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t you be the horrible, smarmy, narcissistic dickhead that stole your brother’s girlfriend so I can hate your guts?”

I managed something like a smile and shrugged. “I can try harder?”

“Oh my God, shut up. Come here.” He lunged forward and caught me by the front of the shirt, tugging me into his lap.

Our limbs tangled together, but eventually, I managed to twist around and straddle him.

His hands were impossibly warm and rough as they cupped either side of my face. “You’re gorgeous.”

I flushed. “Thank you. So are you.”

Ford snorted. “I know that.” He flicked his head from side to side, making his hair go a little puffy. “If this was the eighties, I’d be a fucking supermodel.”

Leaning in, I took a kiss, making it a little rougher than I was feeling right then. It was easier than dealing with the hurricane of emotions sitting in my chest. The longer I held him, the more I knew what had to be done. But doing it was going to be like carving out my own heart.

Ford groaned, thrusting up against me. “You feel so fucking good. Can we…”

“Yes,” I told him, nipping at his lips. “Whatever you want. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to ride me,” he said, looking me directly in the eye.

A groan tumbled from my lips as I leaned to the side and grabbed the lube out of the drawer. The bottle was half-gone, and he smirked when he tossed it on the bed next to my hip.

“You’re not naked enough,” he said.

I lifted a brow at him as I slid off his leg and stood up. “Neither are you.”

He grinned sharply. “Race you.”

He won, but just barely. We were both totally undressed by the time I was climbing back on the bed, but this time, he spun me around and pressed my back to the wall, lifting one leg up to expose my hole.

“Thought you wanted me to ride you.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m going to take my time with you tonight.”

Fuck, why did that feel like he was hinting at a goodbye?

My chest went a little tight, but I said nothing as he slicked up his fingers, then pushed two into my ass.

I grunted hard at the intrusion, my eyes falling shut when he managed to hit my prostate on the first try.

His arms were so fucking strong, and he managed to lift my whole ass up off the bed as he finger fucked me into oblivion.

“God God God,” I gasped, listening to the squelch of him moving in and out of me. “Uh uh uh, I’m going to come. You gotta—f-fuck, you gotta stop or…”

He moved agonizingly slow as he dragged his fingers out of me, trailing the slick down the insides of my thighs, then back up again. He circled the tips of them over my balls, then over the length of my dick, which kicked hard and drooled opaque strings of precome all over my stomach.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He traced a reverent touch around my lips, over my jaw, passing them down my eyelids and over the sides of my neck. “I never want to stop seeing you this way.”

But he’d have to. And soon.

I didn’t say that. Instead, I slipped onto my knees and moved him back to the position he’d been in earlier. Spreading my legs, I waited for him to hold his cock steady, and then I lowered down on top of him.

The stretch was intense. I swore in that moment I could feel it so much more profoundly than before. God help me, this was a goodbye fuck. This was the beginning to an ending, and we both knew it.

The desperation only ramped up as I bent my knees and began to ride him.

I was lost to the sound of skin slapping skin, of his soft grunts, and the way he clawed at me like he was trying to keep me against him.

Leaning forward, I thrust down as his hips shifted up to meet mine, and his mouth caught my own.

He kissed me like he was devouring me, like I was becoming part of him. His nails dug into my skin, scratching up my back, pushing into my hair, and holding it in a tight, painful hold. I groaned as I rolled my hips, rubbing my dick along his stomach.

His hip had to be in so much agony with the way he was slamming his cock into my ass, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. One shaking hand fell between us, and he gripped me in a tight fist.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped, licking at my mouth. “I’m gonna fucking nut inside you. Gonna goddamn mark you. Gonna make sure you feel it for days.”

“Yes, Christ, fuck. Please,” I begged.

“Love that. Love hearing how needy you are. Love feeling the way you take me. Holy fuck, look at you. You are such a fucking mess .”

He wasn’t wrong. I was flushed, sweating, my legs shaking, my ass desperately twitching around him. I needed to be filled more, bigger, deeper. “Put fingers in me,” I gasped, rolling my hips forward. “Make me feel it.”

“Oh my God, oh my God,” he breathed, but his hand moved down my back to obey.

The stretch was nothing but pain for a beat, stealing my breath, and then the pleasure began to overwhelm me when he began to thrust inside me again.

“I can’t,” he sobbed. “I can’t hold back. Killian?—”

“Do it. Come.”

He gasped once more, his hips stuttering, and then every muscle in his body seemed to tense.

I felt it when he let go—the way his cock thickened, the way it spilled hot ropes deep inside me.

That alone, and the way he began to jack me like he wasn’t going to be satisfied until I joined him, sent me over the edge.

My breath fled my lungs, and I couldn’t draw in air to groan.

The edges of my vision went dark, and with the last pulse of my orgasm, I collapsed against him.

“Killian,” he was whispering, stroking a single hand down my back. “Baby, sweetheart. My everything.”

My entire body felt like it was being lit on fire from the inside. I was going to immolate. There would be nothing left but scars and ash.

He loved me, and I loved him, and we couldn’t say the words because they would tear us to pieces.

Eventually, Ford rolled me over gently, kissing along my jaw as I slumped against the sheets. How he had the strength to get up was beyond me, but I supposed he was a damn jock. The thought made me smile as I watched him hop to the bathroom.

Once upon a time, guys like him would torment me. Once upon a time, guys like him had me crying into my pillow, praying my brother wouldn’t hear because it would be one more thing for him to laugh at.

And now, this one was mine.

But he wasn’t mine to keep.

It was creeping toward dawn when I gave up trying to sleep, and I rolled over to face Ford, who was doom- scrolling on his phone. He felt me watching and set it down on his chest, reaching over to brush a few locks of hair off my forehead.

“You were snoring.”

“I do that when I don’t sleep very deep.”