Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(7)
“I see you had expectations for tonight,” he murmurs.
“No expectations,” I breathe.
“I don’t think that’s true.” His lips are at my ear, his fingers spread across the underside of my jaw, palm resting against the base of my throat as his other hand trails along my hip, palm flattening under my navel as his chest comes flush with my back.
His shirt is cotton, soft and warm, his belt buckle is a cold shock resting against my low back. I exhale on a whimper when Darren’s fingertips graze the crest of my pubic bone, the heel of his palm pressing firmly against my low belly, his thick erection putting pressure on the plug through the barrier of his jeans.
“I wanted to be prepared for whatever you needed tonight,” I whisper.
“Ah, you were being thoughtful, then?”
“I know today was stressful for you.” It sure was stressful for me, even more so in the past twenty minutes.
“All this trouble you went to.” His teeth graze the sensitive skin at the side of my neck. “It was definitely a stressful day, and you would’ve been the perfect surprise had circumstances been different.”
“I’m sorry.” I need to stop saying that.
“Actions always speak so much louder than words, don’t they?” His voice is a shadow looming. “Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?”
DARREN
It’s a good thing Charlene can’t see my face right now. It’s difficult to not smile, which is the reason I have her in this position. Of all the relationships I’ve been in—which isn’t all that many considering most women aren’t excited about signing an NDA before the first date—Charlene is hands down my favorite sexual partner. She’s my favorite everything, really.
Her throat bobs with a nervous swallow under my palm. I bite the shell of her ear. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
She stumbles forward a step when I release her. She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t ask any questions, simply waits for instructions. It looks like she’s giving me the reins tonight. I bite my knuckle as I consider the plethora of sex toys and then Charlene. She really is gorgeous, with her long auburn hair piled on top of her head to expose the gentle line of her neck, slender shoulders rolled back, and that pink bunny tail peeking out from between her ass cheeks is just . . . adorably sexy. If there was a sex toy that could encapsulate Charlene’s personality, it’s that goddamn butt plug.
Here’s the thing about Charlene: I know what she wants better than she does. And it sure isn’t that fucking mammoth dragon cock sitting in the middle of the living room floor. Charlene has an incredibly wild imagination, and she loves to read every dirty, smutty book she can get her hands on.
She also thinks she wants to try everything, but sometimes she jumps in head first and then realizes what she thought, and what truly is, are not the same. So she’ll come at me with the most extreme of extremes, and I’ve learned from experience and trial and error to feed into it, then dial it all the way back until we’re a few shades out from vanilla. That way she’s not at risk of having a full-on panic attack over the possibility that I might try something she’s not ready for.
It’s clear my needs were her priority when she set this up today, which tells me more about her frame of mind than she realizes. Charlene is worried, just as I am, about the expansion draft. I know better than to expect her to say it outright, but her concern is laid out in the offerings surrounding us. What Charlene doesn’t understand is that my needs end and begin with only her.
Starting at her shoulder, I drag my finger along her skin, following the contour of the pearl necklace, and slowly circle her.
Her hazel gaze rises to meet mine, lashes fluttering. It’s filled with need and uncertainty and desire. My worry is echoed in the parting of her lips, in her shallow breaths and her tiny hum of longing. I want to take her to the edge and hold her there. I want to make her understand that there is no end to us, that I will never willingly walk away from her—not unless that’s what she wants.
Charlene is like a firefly, and sometimes that’s what I call her. She’s elusive, and if you catch her she’ll burn bright, but keeping her trapped dulls her fire and dims her beauty.
So I don’t trap her. Not for long, anyway. I might enjoy watching her burn for me, but in the end I always set her free. Over and over, I let her fly away, even though it goes against every instinct I have.
So far she always comes back. I keep waiting for that to change, and hoping it won’t. The expansion draft could be a potential threat to this thing we have, and it makes me edgy.
I dip down and press my lips to hers, flicking my tongue out to taste her, but not slipping inside as I’m sure she wants. Her lips are like candy, but I taste the salt of her uncertainty, tracked in tears over her cheeks. Charlene stumbles forward, chest meeting mine as she grips my shirt.
I drop one hand to her hip to prevent contact from the waist down, and to help keep her upright. She moans against my lips, the sound sweet and needy. As much as I’d like to deepen this kiss and make it last for hours—and I truly would—she needs to be taken care of. And so do I.
I pull back, stroking her cheek as she whimpers her displeasure. “You should choose something from your circle of sex toys so we can play.”
I allow a half-smile to form as I drag a finger from the center of her clavicle, down between her breasts, going lower to circle her navel before I finally dip between her thighs. She sucks in a tremulous breath as I skim past the hood piercing—the one she opted to get during a long stretch of away games. Her legs shake as I brush the inside of her thigh.