Page 48 of Puck

Oh hell.

I forgot—she doesn’t like being challenged.

“Switch spots with me,” she said. She lifted up and slid onto my lap, and I shifted to the window seat. “Now. Take off your underwear and give them to me.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’re serious.” I glanced forward—Temple and Lola had their heads resting on each other, dozing; Kyrie and Layla were across from them, deep in conversation; Ivar was still busy on his phone.

She quirked an eyebrow back at me. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Why not go with it? Could be fun. So I unlaced my combat boots enough to slip my feet out, shucked off my pants and underwear, and then tugged my pants back on, and handed her my black boxer briefs. I left my pants unbuttoned and unzipped, then glanced at Colbie. Her eyes were wide, her expression one of shock and desire. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and her gaze was locked on my cock. Hard as goddamn marble, pre-come beading and smeared on the tip. Obviously I was better endowed than she’d anticipated, judging by her expression.

“Jesus, Puck,” she breathed.

“I love the way you say that,” I murmured.

Her eyes flicked to mine, and then roamed the cabin before returning to me. She hesitated, taking a deep breath, and then shifted closer to me. Reached for me, nudging the flaps of my zipper aside to fully reveal my erection in all its glory. Took everything I had to play it cool, to tamp down my disbelief—I really hadn’t expected her to actually do this. I wouldn’t have pegged her as the type to give me a public handjob in a million years. Yet it seemed as if that was exactly what was happening.

OH.

Oh yeah. Yep. Her delicate little hand slipped around my cock, and I had to bite my tongue quite literally to keep from making a sound. Her fingers were so small, so thin, so delicate—she couldn’t get her hand all the way around me. Part of that was me, I suppose I should admit, as I was not a small man in any sense of the word except in terms of height, and even then, my cock was longer than my overall height would lead most to assume, and thicker than they’d guess. I’ve never measured, because who does that, for real? So no, I don’t know how many inches. I could guess, but why? Plenty, and more than enough.

Her touch slid down slowly, and I watched, rapt, as she glided her fist back up, rubbing her thumb over the tip, through the smeared clear, sticky fluid. My teeth ground together—her touch was . . . perfect. Soft. Warm. Gentle, yet firm. Confident. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was enjoying it. Not as much as I was, that was for fucking sure. God, her hand felt incredible. My heart crashed in my chest, my stomach sucked inward involuntarily. My balls ached.

We were both acting as if nothing was going on, her gaze roving the cabin now and again, like mine was. She plunged her fist down again, and my eyes fluttered closed momentarily. Up then. God, each stroke was heaven, her warm, smooth touch making me crazy. I wanted to move, needed to push, to thrust, to flex. But I didn’t. I held stone-still, only my eyes and chest moved. Let her do this, her way, in her time.

She was as unhurried as I’d been, touching her. No rush, just a slow, teasing exploration. Up and down. She paused at the bottom, squeezed a few times, then moved her hand up, rubbed the tip again, maybe played a few short, shallow strokes. I swallowed hard, teeth grinding, lungs expanding as I took deep, steadying breaths.

Casually, she leaned a little closer, her eyes flicking up to mine, assessing me, watching my reaction as she cupped her other hand over my balls. Oh god, oh fuck, that was almost my undoing. I blew out a harsh breath through my nose, focusing on keeping still, on not making any sounds. Her beautiful mouth curved in a pleased smile, seeing my efforts to contain my reaction.

Her lips brushed my ear. “You have a gorgeous cock, Puck.”

“Thanks.”

“Having trouble holding back already?” she asked, gliding her touch a bit more swiftly, then, teasing me, drawing me closer to the edge.

“Nope. I’m fine.” I wasn’t, and we both knew it. “Just fucking fine.”

She laughed quietly, her gaze moving away from mine and down to my cock. “I hope your poker face is better during actual poker.”

More slow, teasing strokes, her palm cupping and kneading my balls. Faster then, just a little. Enough that my hips started flexing, and a soft grunt escaped me.

“Wouldn’t take much now, would it?” she whispered in my ear, her breath warm, her words making it harder to hold back. “A few quick jerks, and you’d make a mess, I bet.”

“Think so? Try me.” I was bluffing. It was all false bravado; she was more right than she knew.

She laughed again. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Colbie paused with her hand around the head of my dick, caressing the tip, squeezing. “That’s not how this is going to go, Puck.”

“No?”

She shook her head, hair tossing. “You like to tease and play games? Well, so do I.”

I growled. “Of course.”

“You think you could tease me and edge me and force me to beg for the orgasm and not have some kind of payback?” She let go of me, letting my cock rest against my belly. “Silly Puck.”

I let out a breath slowly, seeking control. “I’m well aware I earned this.”

“All you have to do is ask, Puck. Beg, like you made me beg.”