Page 50 of Puck

“Just see them?”

“Hell no. I need to bury my face in them. I need to paint my come all over them.” I heaved a deep breath as she squeezed my cock, a teasing pressure. “But for now, I’ll settle for the privilege of seeing them.”

Her smile was genuinely flattered. “Privilege?”

“Fuck yes, Colbie. It would be an honor and privilege—and probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Promise not to tease me anymore?” she asked.

“Hell no.” I lifted my chin. “What will I promise is to tease you just enough. I promise I’ll always follow through. I promised you an orgasm you wouldn’t believe, and I made good, didn’t I? Youlikethe teasing, Colbie. You love the game as much as I do.”

She stroked me, and we both watched as her hand traveled from root to tip, slowly. “Damn you for being right.”

8: Sex, Guns, And Gangsta Rap

My heart was hammering so hardI was worried I was having some sort of attack or episode.

I absolutely could not believe I was doing this. At all. Much less with a man I had just met, let alone in this situation, on a small passenger plane full of his friends and coworkers. Any one of them could turn around at any moment and catch us, and then what would they think of me? I was not like that. I didn’t do that. The last guy I had sex with, I didn’t so much as kiss him until we’d been on three dates—not because I believed in the three-date rule per se, but because I generally didn’t like to go there with a guy until I was comfortable with him, and it usually took a while for me to be comfortable with anyone. Yet Puck, somehow, made me feel totally at ease, comfortable, daring even. He didn’t dare me or challenge me to do this, he just didn’t believe I would, and for some stupid reason it triggered something in me that wanted to prove him wrong.

And also, I wanted to do this. Iwantedto feel him, to touch him. I also wanted to get him back. I wanted to prove to him that I could play the game too, that I could push his buttons and read his reactions and make him beg. It was equally portioned between the two reasons, honestly. The way he’d made me feel, the intensity of the orgasm, had only made me hornier than ever, made me want him more. And then, after I’d recovered from the climax, I’d looked over and he’d been sporting a monster erection. And he also seemed to genuinely not expect or anticipate anything in return despite how hard he was. And god, he lookedhuge. And then, when he took off his pants right there beside me, I got my first look at his dick, and I actually stopped breathing for a second. The damn thing was even more perfect and enormous than I’d imagined. Seven or eight inches long at least—so fuckingthick,though. My fist didn’t fit around it, it was so thick. One glimpse, and I had to touch him. I wanted that smooth, firm flesh in my hand.

I wanted to feel him lose control. I needed to know, for myself, and I needed him to know that I made him crazy, that I made him beg. Drove him to the edge and pushed him over, but not before toying with him.

And holy shit was it satisfying. Watching him squirm, watching him grind those teeth together and fight the urge to go caveman on me . . . watching him try to stay still and quiet, and lose the battle. So fucking hot. I was all wet again, and now I didn’t have any underwear on, so the wetness was seeping out of me, dripping down; he could probably smell me, I was so wet.

And now I had him on the edge again. Teased, and tortured. Pushed him close to orgasm, backed him away. Gotten him to reveal desperation, the need to feel me touch him again, the need to see me. He was sitting there, chest heaving, jaw clenching, stomach tensed. I had his huge, gorgeous cock in my hand, and all I’d need to do was stroke him a few times and he’d come all over the place. I had his underwear on my lap, ready to use them for easy cleanup. I wasn’t about to tell him this, but I was actually—foolishly, stupidly, probably—considering using my mouth a little. I wouldn’t swallow it all, not this time. But I might let him feel that. Give him that much, just because he’d made me come so hard I had legitimately gotten dizzy from it.

I’d surprise him with it; that was what I’d do.

His eyes were flicking from my hand on his cock, squeezing and shallowly caressing it near the base, and my hand on my bra, holding it closed—then up to my eyes, roaming my features, and back down.

“No touching me,” I said.

He slipped his hands under his butt. “Okay.”

I glanced one more time around the small cabin, noticing Layla and Kyrie had finally dozed off, Kyrie leaning against the window with Layla’s head on her shoulder, and Ivar was using both hands to type on his phone, absorbed, ignoring everything, the big bulky headset on his ears blocking out any sounds we made. As private as we’d get, under the circumstances.

I released my hold on the clasp of my bra, and my boobs bounced free, swaying gently. I reached up and brushed the straps off my shoulders so the garment hung open, baring my breasts completely. His cock throbbed, jumped in my hands, and he shifted, clearly fighting the urge to touch me. I liked seeing that need in his features, how badly he wanted to touch me.

I focused on his dick. Wrapped my right hand around his shaft above my left, and stroked downward. His eyes were fixed on my tits as I stroked him, so I gave a little shimmy, setting them to swaying, and he made a soft grunt in the back of his throat, his hips flexing, pushing his thick, firm, warm cock through my fists. God, it was hot, watching him edge closer to release, and the public setting made it hotter yet.

I felt a gush of wetness seep through my sex, and I clenched my thighs together. He was so close. Hips thrusting, cock pulsing in my hands.

Then I did something crazy, something I’ve never done before, never even considered: I tugged the hem of my skirt up, baring my pussy to Puck’s gaze, and as he watched, I slipped two fingers inside myself, gathering my essence . . . then I smeared it onto the tip of Puck’s cock, mixing it with his own leaking pre-come. He growled low in his throat, his eyes raking over my bared, glistening core.

“Holy motherfucking shit,” he murmured. “Your pussy is fucking perfect.”

I grinned, couldn’t help but touch myself again, smeared more of my wetness onto his dick. Plunged my fist down his length, coating his shaft with sticky wet essence, his and mine mixed. Stroked faster, using both hands now. Skirt up, shirt undone, bra opened—tits bared, pussy bared . . . his thick, hard cock in my hand. People mere feet away. One loud noise and they’d all look back here.

“Fuck,” Puck growled.

“Not yet,” I whispered.

“Trying,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re holding back?” I asked, plunging my hands around him, twisting my fists around his plump pink glans then stroking down to his base.

“Yeah.” His eyes fluttered closed then snapped open, staring in turn at my hands, my tits, my slit.