Page 24 of Puck Struck (Dirty Puck #3)

NINETEEN

logan

I told him we needed to make a plan. And we do.

But the thought of him sitting alone in his apartment, panicked and spiraling, twisted my gut.

I didn’t want him slipping into the darkness of his fears and memories, and having battled that state of mind myself, I just couldn’t turn my back and walk away.

The look of relief on his face told me he needs this as much as I do.

Tessa’s right. I guess I do have a little bit of a savior complex, and Cam needs a lot of fixing based on the few things I know.

He hasn’t said much, just dropped a few hints that his childhood wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

I get the feeling he has nobody else to turn to, which makes me very fucking sad.

Maybe I try to fix people because I feel like in some way, I’m fixing myself.

My shitbag father is out of the picture, but I’m surrounded by the people I love. I have Tessa and Ethan. And even though I’m not great at sharing my feelings, they’re great at knowing when I need a smile and a hug, and we support each other. Always .

The fact that Cam doesn’t have that in his life is just wrong.

I may not be able to put him back together, but I’m gonna try my best to make him feel safe, to let him know that someone does care about him.

Because I do, even though feelings like that scare the shit out of me.

I turn the truck into my driveway, Cam’s headlights flashing as he pulls in behind me.

After shutting off the ignition, I push open the door and step onto the pavement.

Cam slowly rounds his car, stopping when he’s on the sidewalk.

He sweeps a hand through his still-damp hair, the moonlight catching the top of his head.

His eyes glitter, questions swirling in the depths of those green pools as his gaze rests on my face.

I nod toward the front door. “Don’t be scared. I don’t bite.”

The corners of his lips lift. “You’re assuming that would be a problem for me.”

“And you think that shocks me, rookie?” I say, trying to keep my tone light. But fuck if my cock doesn’t jerk at his innuendo.

He trails behind me, ignoring my rhetorical question as I walk up the front steps. “You sure this won’t be a problem? I don’t want to disturb Tessa and Ethan.” He pauses for a second. “Oh, wait. How come they weren’t at the game? I figured they must go to your home games, right?”

I fish my keys out of my pocket. “Yeah, they do. And they planned to come tonight, but Ethan was feeling tired, so she decided it was best for him to stay home and rest. And don’t worry about disturbing them. I texted her to let her know we were coming back together and Ethan is already asleep.”

Cam’s shoulder’s relax. “Okay.”

Pushing open the door, I’m greeted by the rich scent of chocolate wafting out of the kitchen.

“My sister really is the best,” I say. With a glance over my shoulder.

“Her brownies are criminally good. She must’ve baked these when I told her I was bringing you back here. Hope you’re not allergic to nuts.”

“Now that would be criminal,” Cam says with a snicker as we kick off our shoes and walk into the kitchen together.

The brownies are still on the cooling rack, so I place them on a plate in the center of the kitchen island.

“Milk?” Cam asks.

I nod, turning to grab two glasses out of one of the cabinets. “Yeah.”

He opens the refrigerator door and whips around to look at me after a full minute. “Wait, your shit is alphabetized. How do you ever find anything?”

“Because it’s alphabetized and I learned my ABCs very fucking early on,” I say. “If I want raspberries, I know exactly where to look because I know where I keep the stuff beginning with R.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make sense. Like all dairy should be together, all vegetables, all fruits.” He furrows his brow at me. “This is too complicated. Beyond OCD. I need a food map or something to get around in here.”

“It goes from top to bottom. M is in the middle.”

He makes a face. “I know where M is, thank you very much. I learned my ABCs too, although it wasn’t back in the Stone Age.”

“Ha ha. Just pour the milk, rookie.”

I can’t help but smile because even though he may still be reeling about everything happening with James and Keating, he’s still Cam, quick with a smile and a joke. No wonder why the media loves him.

It’s why I?—

Fuck. No. I was not gonna think that.

I just…it’s why I can’t fight against my attraction to him. His aura is strong and it glows so bright. I can’t help but be pulled into it. And truthfully, it’s exactly where I want to be.

I finish off one brownie and slowly drink my milk, watching Cam morph into a vacuum and polish off five brownies of his own.

“They’re still warm. Won’t that bother your stomach?”

“Nope,” he mumbles through the first mouthful of his sixth brownie. “But I guess you elderly folk have to be careful,” he says, pointing at my empty plate. “One and done, yeah?”

“Careful. You’re starting to make me regret bringing you here.” I drain the glass and place it on the counter.

He guzzles the rest of his milk and puts the glass down in front of him. His eyes blaze, the green flecks of light sparkling, illuminated by the pendant lights hanging over us. He takes a step toward me.

“Does that mean you want me to leave?” His voice is husky, his tone now back to the cocky one I know and have grown to appreciate.

“No,” I say, the word catching in my throat as I grip the countertop with one hand.

“You sure about that?” He reaches a hand out and slides it down the side of my face. “Because I can just go. And you won’t have to regret anything.”

“I am. You’re not. And I won’t.” With my heart thrashing wildly, I pull him close and crush my lips against his. His hand gets lost in the back of my hair, fingers tugging it tight as I plunder his hungry mouth. Our tongues twist and tangle, coiling heat flooding my insides.

God, he feels so fucking good, his thick, muscled arms holding me close, fingers pressing into my spine in a way that makes my knees buckle.

That one kiss we shared was amazing but this…this is an otherworldly connection, a carnal explosion of lust, need, and de sire. He drags my bottom lip through his teeth and I don’t even bother to silence the moan that bubbles in my throat.

I grip the sides of his face, our foreheads pressed together, labored breaths heaving. “I need you naked,” I rasp. “Now.”

Jesus, so much for my quest for control. I utter words that are completely uncharacteristic of me, but they’ve never been more honest. I can play it off all I want, but the truth is in my face, in my fantasies, and in my heart.

Without another word, I pull him by the hand and lead him up to the third floor where my master suite is located. It’s private, away from the rest of the house. Which is very fucking good because I want to hear Cam scream my name when I bury my dick deep inside of him.

Once my door is closed, I wrap my fingers around Can’s wrist and pull him close, my other hand reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

I slide it off his shoulders, exposing his chiseled pecs and abs, the deep cuts of muscle adorned with intricate swirls of black ink.

The designs snake around his shoulders and wind down his arms. My eyes lock onto the different artistic images that stare back at me.

It’s almost a continuous loop of images, symbolizing a progression of sorts.

My fingertips trace over them all, the pads tingling more as I progress over each design.

I’ve seen them in the locker room, but to be this close, to touch them, to sweep my fingers over every intricate swirl of ink has my heart thrashing in my chest.

The images are artistic and camouflaged by thick thorned vines, which scream adversity.

My heart thumps and thrums as I work my way through his life journey.

His story, based on what I can tell, is one of survival and strength, but it wasn’t an easy one.

He battled every step of the way. Hence, the thorns.

When I finally raise my eyes toward his, I can see the pain in his gaze, the shame, the regret .

“Do you think less of me for what I did?” he asks in a low voice.

Christ, I’ve never seen him so vulnerable, so raw and exposed.

And suddenly, I feel like I’m looking beyond the facade of Cam Foster and seeing the scared young man who felt like he had no choices, no options.

That his survival depended on doing something he loathed because nobody cared to give him the opportunities or the love he needed.

I wrap my arms around him, grazing his smooth skin as I bring my lips close to his.

“No,” I say, my voice thick. “You were so strong and overcame so much. You were just a kid, and kids aren’t ever supposed to be put in positions like that.

I could never think less of you. And fuck anyone who does. They don’t matter.”

He lets out the breath he’d been holding, like he needed that reassurance. My skin prickles with anger toward James and Keating for knocking him back into the darkness he’s tried so hard to escape.

I bring my lips to the side of his neck, gently nipping his skin and tracing every swirl of ink with my tongue. He relaxes into me with a low moan, his fingers fumbling with my belt buckle. And thank God for that because my cock is about to bust through my pants.

Cam brings the palm of his hand to his lips and licks it before grasping my throbbing dick.

My teeth gently cling to his nipple, then travel back to his waiting mouth as I unzip his pants and reach inside his boxer briefs.

The sensations coursing through me paralyze my movements for a second, stilling my hand.

He knows just how to touch me, taunt me, drive me over the brink of sanity.

I shove his pants to the floor, my lips voraciously assaulting his as I stroke his thick shaft. Jerking into his hand, I feel my groin tighten under his masterful grip, an eruption of tingles floating around deep in my core.

Our teeth crack together as our tongues engage in a delicious primal battle. I can’t get enough of him, I need to be closer, to feel him pull me tight and clench around me.

I need all of him.

“Fuck me, Logan,” he mutters against my mouth, again nipping my lip. “I want your cock deep inside of me. Make me feel everything.”

I kick off my pants and open my nightstand drawer to grab lube.

I toss it onto the bed. We tumble onto the mattress, him on his back and me straddling him.

I coat my fingers with the lube and slide them into his ass as I lean toward him.

He loops an arm around my waist, digging his fingers into the small of my back.

His other hand wraps tight around our cocks and he jerks them together, his eyes darkening with lust.

He writhes under me as I pump my fingers deeper into his heat. I crook them, angling them inside of him, and he cries out, trembling hard.

“I need a condom,” I whisper.

“Fuck the condom. We’re both clean. I need you now,” he whispers. “Oh fucking God, now .”

I don’t need any more of an invitation. I slide my fingers out and thrust my cock into him. “Fuck yes,” I breathe, his tight hole stretching around me. “You feel so good.”

He clamps down on my cock, pulling me deep, squeezing my dick as he does. Jesus Christ, I’m already about to lose it. I need to make this last. It’s too good, too perfect, like our bodies were made to be this connected.

I attack his lips again, harder this time, devouring him with desperation, like I need his breath to survive.

I fuck him with long, deep strokes, our bodies slick with sweat.

I grab his cock, precum spilling over the tops of my fingers as he guides my hips.

He cries out again as I hit his spot. It takes every sliver of control for me to control my own orgasm, my entire body in flames, my blood burning a path through my veins.

With one last grunt, ropes of cum shoot at my chest and I can finally let go. Sparks ignite in my groin, shooting to the tip of my dick. After one more thrust, I explode inside of him, pumping him full of my hot cum.

I fall forward onto my elbows, boxing him in because I’m not ready to let him go. It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath, to even be able to form words because that orgasm completely short-circuited my brain.

“That was fucking crazy,” he murmurs a few seconds later, pushing back my hair. “You fuck like an eighteen-year-old. Color me shocked.”

I lift an eyebrow. “That’s your idea of pillow talk?”

He flashes a mischievous smirk. “No, it’s my idea of a compliment. Best sex of my fucking life.”

My face relaxes into a smile. “I guess I can’t be pissed at you for that.”

Cam lets out a low laugh and it lights me up. Maybe it’s the relaxed expression on his face, the deep pink flush coloring his cheeks, the bright smile that always makes my heart leap in my chest.

After I clean us both up, we collapse onto the bed. He rolls onto his side and slides against me. I hold him tight, dropping kisses on the back of his neck and shoulders. Not five minutes pass before his even breathing gives way to light snores.

I breathe in the faded scent of his cologne, Chanel Bleu infusing my lungs. I brought him here to help him, to save him, to protect him.

My chest tightens, all control now lost to the man wrapped in my arms.

And that frightens me more than any of the threats to my career and my future.