Page 45 of Flagrant Foul (Totally Pucked #3)

Teddy “T-Dog” O’Reilly

A soft crunch of metal sliding through cylinder pins lets me know Sev’s home. A key rotates in a lock and retracts. A bolt springs free.

Play it cool, I tell myself firmly as I sprint down the hall to get to him.

I come to a sudden stop two feet away from him.

“Hi,” I say a little breathlessly.

He smiles as though it’s the most inspired line he’s ever heard.

He’s achingly beautiful. He’s wearing dark sweatpants and a mismatching hoodie. It’s a casual, low-effort look, but I swear, no one’s ever worn it the way he does.

There’s a long, fraught pause. A second that splinters, and neither of us knows what to do. He’s there. I’m here. It seems wrong, but I’m not sure how to rectify the problem.

I should let him decide what happens next. I think I should play it cool and let him make the first move. I shouldn’t do anything. I should wait and see what he wants.

Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to wait calmly. I’ll let him speak, and then I’ll follow his lead.

“I douched,” I hear myself say in a voice so clear it could ring a bell.

He’s mighty surprised to hear me say it. I can tell from the way his eyes and mouth widen to form three perfectly matching circles.

Still, he’s considerably less surprised than I am by the admission.

“Oogch,” I say, which isn’t a word. I try again, but the next effort is just as bad, if not worse.

Sev drops his bag on the floor with a loud thud. It jolts enough sense into me that I become dimly aware of a weight in my right hand. A round, smooth container. A bottle of sorts.

Jesus fucking Christ! I have a bottle of lube in my hand. I took it out of my drawer to put on my nightstand out of an excess of caution and always be preparedness , but now I’m standing in my living room with it in my hand.

Maybe Nate was right about me and Sev.

Maybe it is a bad idea.

Maybe Nate knows what a dumb shit I am, and he was only trying to save me from myself .

Sev takes a step forward and places a hand on my hip, hooking a finger through my belt loop. He does it possessively, like it’s something that makes sense. Something that’s happened many, many times in the past. Something that’s going to happen many, many times in the future.

“For me?” His voice lilts up and his eyes soften and soften, until they’re pure mush. Until I’m pure mush. “You did that for me?”

He says it like it’s the first time anyone has ever done something nice for him. Like it’s the first time two people have ever wanted each other. The first time two men have belonged together.

I don’t trust my voice, so I swallow hard and nod eight or nine times.

The hand on my hip tightens, pulling me toward him slightly. “Thank you,” he says softly.

As he leans in to kiss me, I have the foresight to turn my body slightly, hiding the lube behind my back. I still have the problem of how to make it disappear without drawing his attention to the matter, but for now, I close my eyes and part my lips.

His kiss packs the same punch it did last night. Maybe more. He kisses me once, full on the lips, but light, and then nudges my nose with his. My head tilts back. My jaw drops. He hums quietly as he licks into my mouth. His tongue swirls around mine, tasting, testing, learning.

The room spins, and I fall back. No, not fall. I step back several times as Sev walks me to the sofa. When we get there, he takes a seat as I sway on my feet, unsure what to do now that his hands aren’t on me.

“Why so many clothes, Tee?” he asks seriously. A cocky brow travels up as he tugs at the hem of my T-shirt playfully. He looks up at me through thick, dark lashes. “Thought you didn’t feel the cold. Aren’t you hot?”

My giggle is punched and affected, but it doesn’t stop me from reaching behind me and yanking my shirt off so hard that I’m pretty sure I hear a seam rip. I throw the shirt, along with the lube, onto the seat next to Sev.

I still care a bit about what a fool I’m making of myself, but not as much as I did earlier.

He acknowledges the lube with a lazy smile and drops his head back onto the couch.

“Slowly,” he says. “Take it off slowly.”

The words enter my bloodstream and crank up my body heat. It’s more than a collection of words. More than an instruction. It’s Sev’s will flowing into my veins.

My hands shake like a leaf, causing the prong and frame of my buckle to rattle as I undo my belt. Sev watches patiently, not like he’s watching the fumblings of a man with no game, like he’s watching something he likes. Something he likes very much. Something he wants.

When it becomes clear my button and zipper are beyond me, he reaches out and undoes them for me. His touch is rough, just enough to jostle me from side to side and scramble my brain. He pulls my jeans down, sweeping a heavy hand over my thighs as he does it.

He seems to remember that I’m still wearing my shoes and shakes his head at himself, smiling up at me like he’s not the bane of my existence. Like he’s someone who likes me. Like he’s my friend.

Like he’s my lover.

He unties my laces and pulls my shoes and socks off. I stomp on my jeans, holding on to his shoulders as I step out of them unsteadily.

When I’m naked, Sev leans back again, mouth ajar. His chest heaves, ribcage rising and falling as he inhales and exhales. He does it hard and fast. His hand floats up to his chest, and he digs his fingers into the slab of muscle over his heart.

I know how he feels. I feel it too—a blood-pumping organ beating out of my chest .

His hands are on me, steady and sure. Traveling up my legs, grazing the hair they find there, pausing at my hips, circling the bones that protrude slightly, and lightly tracing the indented V that leads to my cock.

I press my lips together to stifle a whimper.

It doesn’t help.

Sev’s hands keep moving, up my chest and down again. Up my sides. Up my arms. Down again.

His face is passive, eyelids heavy, features so lax that if I didn’t know him, I’d think he looked sleepy. His eyes, though, are on fire. His pupils are blown out so wide, they look black. So black that slick, sultry shadows dance in them.

It takes me a second to realize the shadows are me. My reflection. My likeness swaying unsteadily before him.

It’s too much suddenly. I’m too far away from him, and I can’t stand it for one second longer. My whimper turns to a whine, and thank God Sev understands it.

He pulls off his hoodie and the T-shirt he has underneath it in one angry motion, yanking them off roughly and tossing them on the floor.

He wraps an arm around my waist and guides me toward him, pulling me onto his lap.

My side is nestled against his chest, my upper body resting against his left arm, both legs bent, feet on the couch to his right.

He cradles me gently, stroking my face and kissing me until I’m a gurgling mess and the only thing holding me up are the strong arms around me, the wall of his chest, the tongue in my mouth. The sound of him breathing.

He pulls away but keeps his face close, his eyes looking into mine, as his hand starts to wander. He strokes my back lightly in big figure eights. A rash of goosebumps erupts in his wake.

“Beautiful,” he says, slurring slightly. “So beautiful.”

His hand moves lower. Down my spine to the small of my back. He sits up a little straighter and shifts me slightly, turning me onto my side just enough that when his hand moves again, my ass is exposed enough to allow a single finger to slide down my crack.

Heat thunders through me. Roars. Reverberates like hot and cold air crashing together.

He takes my arms and circles them around his neck, making me hold on to him so I don’t flop onto the couch when he lets go of me.

I moan softly in protest from the absence of his touch, but stop as soon as I realize what he’s doing.

He’s getting the lube.

The cap flicks open.

Sev’s eyes slide to half-mast .

There’s a quiet squelch. A soft sound that lets me know exactly what’s coming: the touch I’ve craved for years. Years and years. So many years. All the years.

He strokes me again, this time slowing and zeroing in on my hole. I gasp and buck and hold on to him tightly. He circles my rim lightly. Teasing me. Playing with me. Smiling crookedly as he drives me crazy.

“Sev,” I say.

He answers by pressing the tip of one finger into me. A tidal wave of sensation crashes over me, and I moan loudly in pleasure. No, not moan. I cry out. I yell. I shout.

He doesn’t stop. He fingers me slowly and gently, working his finger into me a little deeper each time he presses in. He kisses me the same way, tongue nudging and teasing, parting my lips and claiming my mouth as his own.

He pulls away now and again to say the same thing he said earlier. “Beautiful, Teddy. My beautiful Teddy Bear.”

When he adds a second finger, my head lolls back, and he kisses my throat until I have the wherewithal to offer him my mouth again. It’s not so much a kiss now, more a hole offered up for whatever he wants to do with it .

He kisses me and fingers me until there isn’t a single synapse in my body that isn’t firing. Until I’m dizzy. Drunk. Drunker than I’ve ever been. Slurring my words and forgetting what I’m trying to say.

“Sev,” I manage, when it begins to feel like this is the end.

The end of me and my story. The end of everything that made me human.

The start of what makes me an animal. The start of what makes me go wild.

“Mm?” he replies.

“Ready. I’m ready.”

“Baby,” he says softly, “you’re not even close to as ready as I’m going to get you.”

With that, he withdraws his fingers, hands me the lube, and gets up with me still in his arms. He does it as if it’s nothing. As if I’m weightless.

I bury my head in his neck and babble nonsensically as he carries me to his bedroom.