That One Night: A Pucking Around Prequel Novella (14)

She rolls onto her side, which does wonders for her tits. Propping herself up on her elbow, she smiles at me. “You don’t need to worry about pregnancy. I have an IUD, and those are more effective than condoms anyway.”

I blink. “Shit…really?”

“Doctor, remember?” she says, pointing at her smiling face. “I’m also a sexually active and health proactive woman in the age of the internet,” she adds. “Condoms have upwards of an 18% fail rate, while with IUDs it’s less than 9%.”

My brain feels fuzzy. What kind of left-turn into Crazy Town have we taken that my dream girl is trying to use math to get me to fuck her?

“And I’m clean,” she goes on. “No STIs. No chance of one, really. It’s been a while thanks to work and life and…Oh, god—” She sits up, slipping off the bed. “I swear I’m not trying to pressure you.” She raises a soothing hand, brushing her fingers down my arm.

Is it that obvious I’m freaking the fuck out? I feel like I just finished a set of suicide sprints. My heart is racing. Pretty soon I’m gonna start sweating.

“We don’t have to do anything,” she adds gently. “Your health and comfort come first. Always. This has to be right for both of us. You can go get the condoms and—”

“I’m clean,” I blurt out, reaching forward to snatch her arms. I pull her to me, needing to feel her close again. “I have to get tested all the time. Drugs, steroids, all the illegals. They do blood and urine tests on us like twice a month, sometimes more going into playoff season. I bet I have more thorough medical records than some of your patients.”

“And you’re clean?” she says with a raised brow.

“As a whistle,” I reply, raising two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

She laughs, the sound soft and musical. Lifting that hand with the little star tattoos, she brushes my hair back on my brow. She keeps doing that. She keeps touching my hair, and I fucking love it. I don’t typically let the bunnies get up close and personal like this. We often don’t even leave the bar or the stadium or wherever I pick them up. I don’t like kissing them either. Their lips always feel sticky from that gloss chicks wear.

Not Mystery Girl. Her lips are buttery smooth. She has me all twisted up in knots. I’ve kissed her more tonight already than I’ve kissed anyone in years. I want to lean into her every touch like a dog. I want to curl up in her lap, my face buried in that sweet pussy, and I never wanna leave.

“I’ll wait for you to get condoms,” she murmurs, brushing kisses across my chest.

Fuck, her lips feel so good, soft and seeking.

“I’ll happily wait. I promise, I’ll let you back in,” she adds, grinning up at me. “I’m not done with you yet, Mystery Boy.”

I groan with my whole chest. This girl has been a surprise from the moment I walked into that bar. She’s asking, and I’m saying yes. I’m saying hell yes. I swear to god, if this was Vegas, I’d be calling up room service for a box of condoms, some Gatorade, and an Elvis minister. That’s how fucking nuts I feel over this girl right now.

She looks up at me with those dark eyes. Her black eye makeup is smudged a bit, making her look hazy, like a polaroid filter. She’s got a dusting of soft freckles over her cheeks and nose. My gaze settles on that fuckhot septum ring. It’s small, two thin bands of twisted gold. Is it crazy that I want to touch it?

Behind her, framed by the double wall of windows, a flash of lightning splits the sky. It cracks above the Seattle skyline, racing from left to right, branching and spiking.

She jumps with fright, spinning around. Her back presses in against me and I wrap my arms around her shoulders, holding her close. Our naked skin is warm, and she fits perfectly pressed in close against my ribs. My dick is nestled at the small of her back. It’ll take nothing to get me hard again. I’m already halfway there, and all I’m doing is holding her.

I nuzzle my face against her hair and breathe her in. It smells different from her perfume. There’s a faint note of mint. We stand naked together and watch as the heavens open and rain starts pouring down over the city. Thunder rumbles so loud, I feel it in my chest.

“I’ve always loved storms,” she murmurs, her hands resting on my forearms. “The complexity, the power. Its nature showing herself to us. We dare to cage her in, but storms are her way of showing us the truth. She is limitless.”

Fuck, the way she strings words together…I could listen to her talk all night. But right now, I want something more. I need to connect with her. I need to feel our hearts beating as one again.

I move slowly, keeping her pressed to me as I loosen my grip, my hands smoothing over her chest, my thumbs grazing her collarbones. She lets out a soft sound low in her throat that has my dick hardening at her back. My hands graze lower to cup her breasts. They’re heavy and warm, her nipples peaked with arousal.

She presses her hips into me, and we watch the storm as I explore, teasing her nipples and massaging her. She arches her back, her hips locked against me, her head on my chest. She tips her head back, looking up at me with those sultry dark eyes, lips parted. The unspoken question is written all over her face. She wants more.

I gaze back, holding eye contact as I let my left hand slide down, smoothing over the curve of her hip, before I’m delving between her legs. My pointer and ring finger part her pussy lips, letting my middle finger slide along her slit, gently circling her clit.