Page 25 of Chasing the Puck


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What I wouldn’t give to have those sassy lips wrapped around my cock. I’ve always prided myself on lasting a long time in the bedroom, but she’d probably make me come in less than a minute.

The first time, that is. After that, I’d treat her to an orgasm or two of her own with my mouth or my fingers. Or both. Once I was ready for round two, then I’d show her all about the patented Tuck McCoy stamina.

I wonder if she’s ever done this, made herself come while thinking about me.

I bet she has. Her words might be cutting, but she doesn’t have as good a poker face as she thinks she does. I’ve seen the way her eyes bulge when she catches a glimpse of my muscles. The way her cheeks darken to a crimson hue when I make an innuendo. The way her gaze dips to my lips just before she looks away from me.

The thought of her cute face flushed with pleasure with me on her mind is enough to push me past the point of no return.

The hot pressure at the base of my spine tells me I’m just a couple pumps away from spilling my cum onto the tiled floor, and the tightness in my balls tells me it’s going to be one big fucking load that I bust.

My hips rock forward with the motion of my hand, and with every thrust, I wish my hips were slapping against Olivia’s soft, round ass. My jaw muscles pop and my breaths become jagged gasps as my orgasm grips me.

“Fuuuck,” I roar. My body convulses with savage pleasure while thick ropes of hot cum gush from my cock.

I’m so spent that I have to grip the edge of the shower stall. I’m sucking in air, trying to catch my breath as my semi-hard dick hangs limp. The swollen head is so sensitive that I wince when a stream of water grazes it.

Once my knees stop shaking, I quickly soap up, wash my hair, turn off the shower, and dry off.

As I’m getting dressed, I catch myself whistling, feeling light as a feather and totally unwound, high on endorphins from the workout and the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve had in … I can’t even remember.

On top of all that, one thing boosts my mood even higher: I’m looking forward to seeing Olivia again on Thursday.

11

TUCK

“You’re in a bad mood.” Those are the first words out of my mouth when Olivia steps into our tutoring room.

“No, I’m not,” she replies instinctively, before furrowing her brow and arching an eyebrow. “What makes you think so?”

“I can tell. You’re grumpy.”

“That’s just because I have to spend the next forty-five minutes in your company,” she shoots back. But there’s no bite to her words. They’re lighter than they usually are when she throws a verbal jab at me. Almost playful.

I try not to smile when I pick up on it.

“Nope,” I reply, shaking my head. “It’s not that. You have a specific kind of scowl when you’re in a bad mood because of me.”

A huff whooshes out of her—but, again, it’s not a sharp huff. It’s almost like she tried to disguise a laugh.

“What are you,” she asks, “a scowl expert now?”

I just nod. “As a matter of fact, I am. Now that I’m besties with Hudson, I’ve become a master scowl interpreter. Just like how an expert bird watcher can look at two different birds that seem identical to the untrained observer, yet know that they’re in fact totally different species.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, but this time there’s no way she can hide the half smile on her lips. My chest squeezes at the sight of it.

“But I’m right. Come on, spill the grumpy beans. We can’t have a productive tutoring session while you’re preoccupied like this.”

She blows out a breath that she wants me to think is of exasperation, but I know it’s really just supposed to mask a laugh. “I’m just a little … hangry, is all.”

“Hangry?” I repeat, making myself sound mortified. I push my chair back from the table and stand up. “We have to get you food. You can’t get through a forty-five-minute tutoring session while you’re hangry.”

“Sure I can,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I’m hangry for a very specific snack that I’ve had a weird hankering for all day, and it wasn’t in stock at the convenience store when I stopped by on the way.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Those Pretzel M&M’s.” She lets out a laugh. “Stupid, right?”

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