Page 46 of Puck

“Goddammit, Puck.”

He trailed his touch back in, closer, closer, and my thighs splayed apart, a wanton gesture. “What’s wrong, Colbie?”

“You’re an asshole.”

He nodded. “Yes, I am.” He teased my slit, tracing up and down, tickling, nudging in and out ever so slightly. “I think that was one of the first things I told you.”

“Fuck.”

I was normally not much for swearing all that much, but when I was worked up and horny and frustrated? Filter went away. And right then, I’d never been so worked up, never been so frustrated. Never been so horny.

I just wanted to come. I just wanted to feel his fingers on my clit, just wanted to hit that high and shake and feel his fingers and daydream about what he could do if we were alone and naked.

God, I needed it.

“Fuck it,” I breathed. “Fine. You win.”

I twisted my head, reached up and grabbed his beard, pulled his ear to my mouth. “Please, Puck.” I gasped the words as quietly as I could, finally relinquishing this tiny victory to him. “Please. . . let me come.”

I felt his grin spread across his face. His unoccupied hand lifted, and he pinched my chin between finger and thumb, and I felt his breath on my lips, and his finger slid into me, gathering moisture. His lips brushed mine, and I stopped breathing entirely.

He kissed me, and his fingertip struck against my clit at the same moment his tongue slid into my mouth. I moaned helplessly, caught up in a tidal wave, toppled and twisting and crazy. Climax crashed through me with a blast of searing ecstasy, and he kissed me through it all, kissed me like I’d never been kissed by anyone, swallowing my moans and my gasps and my mewling shrieks. I came and I came and I came, and he held on to me, his hand around the back of my neck, crushing me closer to him as our lips fused. I reached up and scraped my palm over his scalp, cupping the back of his head, and I kept a grip on his beard with my other hand, and I gave in to the movement of my hips, flexing and grinding against his fingers as they whirled around my clit in a perfect union of speed and pressure and friction, touching me just right, exactly right, touching me so perfectly I couldn’t have told him how to do it any better. I burst apart, felt something explode inside me. I was wrenched into spasms of gasping intensity, wave after wave.

When the climax finally subsided, I was left quivering, helpless. I collapsed against him, burying my face in the side of his neck, gasping for breath I couldn’t quite catch. “Jesus, Puck.”

He pulled his hand away from my sex, and I watched, mesmerized and horrified and turned on all at once as he licked his middle and ring fingers clean, sucking at the glistening essence from my pussy coating his fingers. “Two fingers, Colbie. Fully clothed, on a plane, surrounded by people.”

I blushed hard, remembering for the first time that we were in fact in a small airplane cabin with five other people. “Ohmygod.”

He laughed. “Relax, babe. Look around. Nobody is watching.” And then he winked at me. “Now think what I could do if I had . . . say . . . an hour and you were naked.”

I glanced up, looked around, and he was right. Layla and Kyrie were lost in conversation together, as were Lola and Temple, and Ivar was in the co-pilot seat scrolling on his phone. None of them even glanced back this way. Then the last part of what he said registered, and became an image, a daydream—me, stripped naked, lying on my back on a bed, Puck’s face between my thighs, his tongue lapping at me, his big strong hands fondling my breasts . . . his huge, hard cock driving into me . . .

“Dammit.” I breathed the curse, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to pretend I wasn’t still quaking from the orgasm, trying to pretend I didn’t want Puck more than I’d ever wanted anyone or anything.

“You want this, Colbie.” Puck’s voice was in my ear, speaking the truth I was too stubborn to voice myself. “You can pretend you don’t all you want, but you ain’t foolin’ me, sweetheart.”

“I’m not trying to foolyou,” I muttered, the words spilling out unbidden.

He just palmed my cheek, smirking at me with that stupid, sexy, knowing smile of his. “I know that too.”

Of course he did. Obviously, I wasn’t fooling either of us.

7: Teasing

Holy motherfucking shit—Colbie Danvers having an orgasm was hands down the most erotic thing I’d ever witnessed. My cock was throbbing, and I was pretty sure I was leaking pre-come in my underwear. I hadn’t even seen her tits, much less gotten a glimpse of the pussy my fingers had just been in, but I was already half in love with the woman’s body.

Maybe that wasn’t a smart thing to joke about, though.

Only, I wasn’t really joking, was I?

I’d give up another finger to get thirty minutes alone with Colbie, and I’d be content with my bargain even if all I got to do waslook. If I got to touch—and kiss and lick and fuck—I would die a happy man.

I knew she was still freaking out, which I understood. She’d clawed her way out of hell, and when you do that on your own like she had, giving up even the tiniest amount of control was like surrendering your soul. I got it, I really did. I respected the hell out of her, and that was the damn truth. What she’d come out of, what she’d fought her way through, that shit took guts, it took balls—which I meant in the euphemistic sense, obviously—and it took furious determination and fierce strength, along with an unwavering sense of independence. I respected that shit down to my fucking toes, inside and out. But I also knew—or rather I strongly suspected—that there was another part of her deep down that wanted to be able to let go, just for a minute. She couldn’t, she didn’t know how, she flat out refused. Which I also understood. She’d fought me down to the last possible second; she’d made me earn every inch I took from her. She wasn’t just going to fall onto my dick, and she wasn’t going to be dropping to her knees anytime soon just because she felt sexual desire for me. If she wanted easy no-strings sex, she could get it anytime she wanted, and I thought she knew that. I wasn’t under the impression that she was that kind of girl, but you never knew. It didn’t matter. The point was, she and I both knew she could get sex whenever she wanted it. This dance of ours wasn’t about sex. It was about control, it was about trust—it was about sex, too, yes, but not sex of the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am variety. It was about . . . something more. What, I wasn’t sure.

Maybe it was about me earning her trust enough that she’d eventually give me control. I wasn’t a dominant, not in the traditional sense. Not even close. I didn’t care how shit went down, most of the time. I had no problem letting a chick tell me how she wanted it, and I had no problem going with that. I’d go along for the ride, because most of the time, we both got our pleasure and that’s what it was really all about. For Colbie, it was about more than body parts, about more than who touched whom where. It was about more than orgasms. She could give those to herself, if that was what it was about. Was it about deeper meaning? Emotions? I wasn’t sure. I just knew I had to play this right, or it would vanish in a heartbeat—shewould vanish. She’d shut me out, shut me down, and tell me to go to hell. So even though I knew she wanted me, knew she wanted this with me, I also knew she wouldn’t give it up easily.

I glanced at her; she was still breathing hard, her beautiful chest rising and falling swiftly as she sucked in deep breaths and let them out. Her eyes were closed, but I knew she was awake. She was twisted in the seat slightly, facing me, her reddish-brown hair draped over her face and obscured her lovely features. Her skirt was still slightly rucked, showing me a bit of her legs. And god, those legs. Long, smooth, elegant.