Page 17 of Mother Pucker

“Shoes?” I finally untangle my tongue long enough to form words again. “We’ve been waiting two weeks to have sex and now you want to wait even longer?”

Erik takes a deliberate step back. His hands linger on my arms, and the feeling of his calloused fingertips tracing along my skin is enough to send heat fluttering between my thighs.

“Yes.” He smiles at me. “I want to do this right, Payton. I’ve been waiting years for you— what’s a few more hours? Besides, you heard Skylar. We have to take it slow.”

Erik’s grin sharpens to something deliciously wicked. We’ve managed to keep off the ice, but that doesn’t mean our drive has cooled off. Board games, video games, sex games— no matter what we’re doing, Erik and I manage to turn every night into a competition. Something tells me our first real date is going to be no different.

Only this time, I want him to end up on top.

6

Payton

“Any questions?”

Too many to count.

I shake my head at the instructor before leaning in to sign the release form he’s holding.

I’ve been dreaming, fantasizing, and scheming about dating Erik Nordstrom since the first time I met him. Dinner and a movie. Drinks and dancing. Long walks in the moonlight. Our first date— and I’ve always known there would be at least one— could be anything at all and it wouldn’t matter as long as he was here with me.

“I take it you’ve done this before?” I cock an eyebrow at Erik. “Seems like an unfair advantage, Nordstrom.”

We watch the instructor adjust a row of targets lined up along the far end of our safety enclosure before leaving us alone in the late afternoon breeze.

“Once or twice,” Erik admits with a grin. “But don’t worry, Payton. You’re a natural at violent competition.”

Axe throwing.

It’s not something I would have dreamed up in a million years. It’s also the perfect first date for us. I should know better than to underestimate him by now.

Erik’s amber eyes are warm and bright, soaking up the last rays of sunshine. His hair is down tonight. I like it best this way, falling to his shoulders in thick blonde waves. He looks at home in a soft flannel shirt and worn jeans, a throwing axe held loosely in one massive palm. The dull thud of steel meeting wood rings out around us, punctuated by the occasional cry of triumph or loss.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I hold a hand out expectantly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. Need a safeword?”

Erik laughs. It’s a hungry, wicked sound that winds its way into my fleece leggings and settles between my thighs like a pulse. The afternoon breeze is shifting into something cooler as the sun inches toward the horizon. My cable knit sweater dress is snug and cozy in the dropping temperature. It’s also short and just clingy enough to make the most out of my long legs.

I’m not above cheating when it comes to Erik.

We both know that tonight is going to end with us sweaty, naked, and tangled. But for now, the game is still on, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. My relationship with Erik is fierce and competitive to the core— and so much sexier for it. It doesn’t matter who wins, so long as we work each other up on the way to the finish line. And judging by the way Erik’s eyes keep skimming between the hem of my dress and the tops of my leather boots, I’ve already scored the first point.

“See? I told you— you’re a natural.” Erik hands over one of the axes with a smirk. “Come on, Payton. It’s time for violence.”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Erik moves with a speed that defies physics. He sinks three axes in quick succession, burying them in a neat line that bisects the center of the farthest target. He’s showing off— and it’s working.

“Not bad, Nordstrom.” It takes effort to keep my voice casual when I’m both impressed and aroused. “Now step aside and let a professional show you how it’s done.”

Erik laughs, unconvinced by my phony bravado. He walks over to the far end of our chain-link enclosure, where a series of thick wood slices are painted with bright red bullseyes.

I can’t keep my eyes off of him. Erik moves with easy, loose-limbed confidence that makes my heart swell with relief. Every step is strong and self-assured, all traces of pain and hesitation gone. He stalks to the target wall with all the grace and power of a lion on the prowl.

Erik’s sleeves are rolled up, the soft flannel cuffed at the elbow to expose his chiseled forearms and intricate tattoo. The dark ink dances in the twilight as Erik works the axes free. He holds two of them in one massive palm, extending the last one out to me.

I’m not the only one fighting dirty tonight.

“All yours,” Erik gestures at the targets. “Relax your shoulders, breathe deep, and don’t overthink it.”

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