Forever PUCKED (Pucked #4) Read online

  “Thank you. I’m sorry I got so upset with you this morning. It’s just that my job is important to me. You already take care of me on so many levels. I don’t even have to do my own laundry anymore. Beyond needing a purpose, I don’t want to waste the skill set I’ve acquired, because God knows I’m seriously lacking in the housekeeping department. Plus we already have someone who comes in and does all that stuff I’m not good at. We don’t have any children, and we’re not making any anytime soon. I don’t think I could spend all day updating my Facebook profile and using entire cans of Aquanet on my hair.”

  She’s referring to my mom with that last part. “I think she uses Aussie.”

  “Same difference.”

  “Aussie smells a little better.”

  Violet releases me, puts her hands on my shoulders and kisses my chin. “I’ll give Super MC a big, warm hug when I get home tonight, okay?”

  “We can hardly wait.” I drop my head so I can give her a real kiss, with some tongue.

  Violet grabs my shirt, bending backward as I keep leaning in. “I really have to go,” she mumbles around my tongue.

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  She realizes then that I’m right. My hands are full. I’m not keeping our mouths fused, she is. She releases me, and a long breath. I grin, having succeeded in making her not mad at me anymore—and now she’s probably thinking about sex. Good. She can’t take care of her needs at the office the same way I can at home. All damn day, if I want.

  “I’ll see you tonight.” I pass her the bagel and coffee and open the door leading to the garage.

  Violet stops short. “Shit.”

  Her car isn’t in its spot. “Did you leave the car in the driveway?” Sometimes she does this. Violet isn’t the best at parking. She dings the corners or hits the mirrors all the time. I usually do the driving when we’re together, mostly so I won’t lose my mind.

  “It’s at work. Charlene drove me home.”

  “I’ll take you in. Gives me more time with you.” I kiss her cheek.

  “You’re so good to me. I love you.” She sounds contrite now.

  “I want to take care of you as much as you’ll let me.” I give her a pat on the ass. “You get in the car; I’ll throw on shoes.”

  Violet grabs the keys to the SUV, and I head back inside, waiting until she can’t see me before I smile. I’m winning all kinds of points. It’s perfect. I’ll have dinner ready when she gets home, and then she can be dessert. By that time, my comment about her quitting her job should be all but forgotten.

  Violet’s in the car scarfing down her bagel as I slide into the driver’s seat. She puts her hand up to cover her mouth. “This is so good.”

  “Extra creamy, the way you like it.” I stretch my arm across the seat so I can rub the back of her neck while I pull out of the garage. The maintenance guys have been by again, so the driveway is clear, but the streets aren’t in quite the same condition.

  “So creamy. I feel like I owe you a blow job or something for denying the Super MC this morning.”

  “He misses your mouth,” I say, like my dick is actually a person.

  Violet’s named him, she dresses him up on occasion, and she’s made a Play-Doh sculpture, so I suppose in some ways he is his own man.

  “That’s because I give seriously awesome blow jobs.” She takes a bite of her bagel and cream cheese squeezes out of the corner of her mouth, like jizz would if she happened to decide to go down on me in the car.

  “This is true.” I shift my erection around in my jogging pants so it’s sticking up, tenting my sweats. The head rests on the base of the steering wheel, covered by gray fabric.

  “Wow, you’re really excited about a blow job, eh?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m always excited about your mouth on my cock.”

  Violet takes another bite of her bagel, oblivious to my hint. Or maybe ignoring it. So I try to be more obvious. I pull down the waistband so my erection pops out, the cool air making my balls tighten.

  Violet glances down. “What’re you doing?”

  “You said you felt bad. I’m making it easier to alleviate your guilty conscience.”

  “Using more than one fifty-cent word in a sentence isn’t going to get you road head.”

  I stroke the back of her neck. “You’ve given me road head before.”

  “Yeah, but that was in the summer, and we were on back roads, not in the middle of the city.” She gestures to the traffic around us, which is filling in quickly as we head into the Loop.

  “The windows are tinted. No one can see.”

  “The roads are slick. I don’t want your attention divided between me bobbing on your dick and driving. This isn’t Canada, Alex. Not everyone here believes in snow tires. I need you focused on our safety, not how warm and wet my mouth is, or how far I can get your dick down my throat.”

  “Just for a minute?” I’m pretty much begging at this point, but she’s so descriptive, I can imagine how good it will feel.

  “I can’t go into work with blow-job lips.” She shoves the last of her bagel in her mouth, pushing it to the side so one of her cheeks puffs out, reminding me exactly what she looks like when she’s doing what we’re talking about, minus the chewing.

  “Blow-job lips?”

  She swallows, then swipes the back of her hand across her mouth to get rid of the crumbs. “You know, when they’re all swollen and flushed, like I’ve been licking them too much. Charlene will notice.”

  “Why would it matter if Charlene notices?” He’s still exposed, hanging out, all lonely like, so I grab on to him and give him a stroke, drawing Violet’s attention there.

  “Jimmy and Dean will notice, too.”

  Those guys work in Violet’s department. The four of them work on a lot of projects together. I’d be more concerned about how much time she spends with them, except Violet once kindly informed me that they’re much more attracted to me than they are to her.

  “You could touch it instead.” I cringe at my pleading tone.

  I earn more than eight million dollars a year. I’m team captain and center. I have the second-best scoring stats in the league. My cock is huge. I’m nice to look at, and I’m in great physical condition. I shouldn’t have to beg my fiancée to touch my dick; she should want to ride it every minute of every day—in my fantasies anyway. In reality, I know that’s not how life works.

  “I don’t think a handy is a good idea, either. Still too distracting. Besides, we’re already here.” She gestures to her work, which I almost drive past. Instead I double park and piss off the cars behind me.

  “I’ll see you tonight.” She leans over and kisses me, then lowers her head and plants one on the head of my poor, throbbing cock. “I’ll suck you later.”

  Popping back up without so much as a lick or a stroke, she smiles brightly. “Thanks for driving me in! I better get out before someone goes ballistic behind us.” Honking follows, so she opens the door. “I love you!”

  A cold gust of wind forces me to tuck my hard-on back in to my sweats. “No problem. See you—”

  She slams the door and runs into the building, leaving me and my raging blue balls alone. Another horn blasts behind me, so I take my foot off the brake and move along. I keep one hand on the wheel and the other holding my handle all the way home.

  As soon as I’m inside, I rub one out, leaning against the side door. I manage to make it to the laundry room, where I come in the sink. The ache in my balls makes it less enjoyable than it should be. Also, Violet’s hands are much softer than mine, which is a huge factor in how good it feels.

  After I’m done sorting out my issues, I call Darren to see if he wants to hit the gym early. We have a training session early this afternoon, but my right shoulder’s been acting up on and off for the past couple of months, and I want to do some additional exercises to work out the kinks. Also, I need a release for all the energy I’d hoped to burn today with Violet.

  Darren’s all for it, probably because we’re in the same boat today: women at work and us at home. I change into my gym gear, pack my duffle with extra clothes, and pick him up. He tosses his bag in the back and slides in next to me.

  “How’s it goin’?”

  He adjusts his sunglasses and gives me one of his private smiles. “I had a good night, and an even better morning. You?”

  Darren isn’t a details guy. But then, he doesn’t need to be. His relaxed posture and tone say it all.

  “Last night was great.” It comes out with an edge.

  “Your morning didn’t go well? You bring up the wedding with Violet again or something?”

  Darren is one of the few people I talk openly to about the wedding stuff, or the lack of wedding stuff.

  “I haven’t mentioned it in weeks.”

  After the fiasco that was our engagement party, I left the topic alone for a while. Our moms went overboard with the guest list and invited two hundred people to celebrate in my backyard. Violet doesn’t like to be the center of attention in a crowd like that. She ended up with a raging case of hives, which took setting a date off the table.

  By the holidays, I figured she would’ve gotten over it, but every time our mothers started in on setting a date, Violet broke out. We’ve gone through a lot of Benadryl in the past several months.

  Now, I get that Violet has had some embarrassing things happen to her over the years. Something about a serious wardrobe malfunction at her mother’s wedding is all I know. But I understand her concerns.

  Violet says it like it is most of the time, and whatever pops into her head usually comes right out of her mouth. It’s cute and funny when it’s just us, or our friends, but in highly public situations, it can be mortifying for her—and sometimes other people. I’ve told her several times that we can keep our wedding small, but she’s still reluctant to set a date.

  “Not making progress there, huh?” Darren asks.

  “Nope.” I tap the steering wheel in agitation.

  “I’m sorry, man. I know you want this to happen.” His phone buzzes in his pocket. “You mind if I take this?”

  I wave him off. “No. Go ahead.”

  “Hey, sexy. What’s up?”

  It’s Charlene. Darren’s been seeing her for a long while, now. He’s always been a low-profile guy, but since they started dating, he’s gotten a lot more media attention. He doesn’t really like it, but he seems to like Charlene, so he deals.

  “You didn’t get enough of me last night or this morning, is that it?” he asks quietly.

  I try not to eavesdrop, but he’s sitting right beside me and we’re in my car, so it’s impossible.

  “Oh, really?” Darren makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but I’m on my way to the gym with Alex, so you’ll have to put that thought on hold… Uh-huh…Yeah, you can come to my place. That’ll work better anyway. Mmm…I think the red one.” He shifts around in his seat. “That’s entirely up to you.”

  When I glance at him, he raises his eyebrows. There’s a long pause, during which his smile grows even wider.

  “You know what I like, Charlene. Okay. I’ll see you around six… Looking forward to it.” He ends the call and tucks his phone back in his pocket.

  “Things getting serious there?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I like her, and we have a good time together.”

  It’s not an answer, but then that’s kind of how Darren is.

  “So what happened this morning?” he asks.

  “Everything was fine until I joked around about Vi quitting her job.”

  “Why would you do that?” He sounds incredulous.

  “I don’t know. I just…the away games aren’t my favorite. I don’t like the long spans of time away from her, and she doesn’t have to work. I make more than enough, right?” I’m looking for some kind of affirmation. Darren is probably the wrong person to ask, though, considering his relationship with Charlene isn’t anything like my relationship with Violet.

  “Does this have anything to do with the Darcy account?” Darren asks.

  “What?”

  “The Darcy account. Are you worried about that?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Darren gives me a look. “Mitch Darcy. You know, our teammate?”

  “Did he say something to you? He’s got his own damn wife. He needs to stay the fuck away from mine.”

  “Settle down, Waters. Didn’t Violet tell you last night?”

  Anxiety makes every muscle in my body tighten. “Tell me what?”

  “Jesus, you’re edgy today.”

  “Yeah, well, my fiancée, who won’t set a damn wedding date, denied me sex this morning after I’d been away for a week, and now you have information I don’t, so there’s something she’s keeping from me.”

  “I don’t think she’s keeping it from you. Apparently Violet drew up a proposal for his account, and she’s presenting it next week.”

  “Oh. That’s it?” When Darcy’s wife, Bunny, found out Violet manages finances for sports professionals, she got her contact information. I vaguely remember Violet telling me about creating a proposal a few weeks ago. She’s had to stay late a bunch of times over the past few months.

  “What do you mean, that’s it? It’s a big fucking deal.”

  “It is? How do you know?”

  “Charlene told me. Junior accountants don’t present on multimillion-dollar accounts.”

  “She already manages Miller’s accounts.”

  “Yeah, but this is different. Darcy isn’t family, and Bunny specifically requested her. Charlene said this is atypical.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize that. Well, I guess that explains her reaction this morning. I wish she would’ve said something.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t.”

  “We were kind of busy last night, with other things.”

  “Apparently.”

  I like Darcy well enough. He’s a good guy, and Bunny’s always pleasant. She seems like the one in charge in that relationship. I tap the steering wheel, considering my options and how things could have gone differently had I known this information.

  “I should do something nice for her tonight. Plan a dinner or something.”

  “Good idea. Then maybe you’ll get some action and you won’t be so bitchy on the ice tomorrow night. We could really use a home win.”

  “Yeah, don’t I know it.”

  While we managed to win the first two away games—just barely—on this last trip, we lost the second two. It’s been like that this season: a lot of up and down, and not a lot of consistency.

  My scoring average is also down, and Randy Ballistic, who’s new to the team, has been responsible for more goals than I have lately. It’s good for him, but not so good for me.

  I’m silent for the rest of the trip to the gym. Darren doesn’t push for conversation, which is good because I’m mulling. As much as I’m disappointed that I didn’t hear this news from Violet, I’m also a little relieved it’s Darren who told me. It gives me time to process.

  As exciting as this is for Violet, it also means she’s going to be busy planning for the presentation this week. Which means we’ll have even less time together. I’m happy for her, because she works hard at her job, and she’s amazing at it, but this isn’t just about this week. The better she gets, the higher she’ll climb, and the more time it will take away from us.

  As a kid, my mom was always there: taking me to skating or hockey, making breakfast, working on homework with Sunny. I’ve always kind of imagined it’d be the same for my kids. I want that for my family, and I have the ability to provide it. Maybe Violet isn’t ready to look at it that way.

  As soon as we get to the gym, I jam in my earbuds so I don’t have to talk to anyone and hit the treadmill. Darren leaves me alone. He knows better than anyone that sometimes I need time to think.

  Lance Romero, one of my teammates and a good friend of Miller’s, steps onto the treadmill beside me and nods. I’ve gotten to know him a bit better in the last few months. He’s a notorious partier, and a while back he had a fling with the team trainer, Tash, which resulted in us getting a new trainer. It sucked for everyone, but since then he seems to have calmed down a bit.

  I pull out an earbud. “How’s it going, Romero?”

  “Yeah, all right.”

  He looks tired, like maybe he was up late last night, probably with a bunny.

  “You gonna be on for tomorrow’s game?” I ask.

  “Damn right. We’re not letting Toronto near the net.” A hint of Scot creeps in, telling me he’s as fired up as I am about the losses we’ve been taking lately.

  We spend the better part of three hours working out, though it’s not all heavy training. An hour of it is stretching for me, working out the kinks in my right shoulder. I need to schedule a massage for later in the week so I can stay on top of things. Not only is this my shooting arm, it’s my fingering-Violet hand as well. I can’t have anything interfering with my career, or my ability to get her off.

  I decide to order takeout from her favorite restaurant, as well as a bottle of champagne, her favorite flowers, and some chocolates. That should cover all the bases and win back some of my lost points from this morning. I also recognize that this opportunity is a big deal for her, and I do want to celebrate her accomplishments. I get that right now this is what she wants, so I’ll support her. Her work ethic is honorable, if not always easy for me to handle.

  After training I spend a few hours at Darren’s watching Toronto games and planning our strategy for tomorrow. I get home around four-thirty, which gives me plenty of time to get things set up for the romantic dinner. First I remove the cardboard effigies of myself from the front hall. The giant stuffed beaver finds a new home in the sitting room, which is where I discover a picnic-like set up in front of the fireplace.

  My workout mats, covered with fluffy blankets and pillows, are laid out close to the fireplace—it’s gas so there’s no worry about burning down the house. Pink paper litters the surrounding area. I crouch and pick one up; it’s dick-shaped, with balls and everything. Some have little red capes glued to them in honor of Super MC.

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