Page 55 of Chasing the Puck

A dream, surely?

Somehow, the excuse that I only dreamt about Tuck’s dick doesn’t make me feel much better.

A sigh whooshes from me. I head to the bathroom, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

Maybe if I weren’t rubbing them, I’d notice the sliver of brightness underneath the bathroom door, advertising that the light inside is turned on.

Then I wouldn’t thoughtlessly push the door open. But that’s exactly what I do.

I come face to face with Tuck—completely naked.

He’s toweling his hair, arms lifted. His body angles towards me, and I see everything.

I freeze. My eyelids snap open.

I might be unable to move, but my eyes don’t suffer from that problem. They rake over him.

His body is unreal. Like a renaissance sculpture come to life.

My eyes fall first on his chest. Two slabs of hard, dense muscle. Wide and deep. As my eyes crawl down his torso, it tapers to his trim waist. On the trip down that torso are his abs, starkly defined and deeply cut into his physique. Below them are the carved ridges of his hip muscles, making a crisp V-shape pointing straight to …

My breath catches in my chest. I’m watching Tuck’s cock swell and grow hard in real-time. Each fraction of a second that my gaze is riveted to it, I think it can’t possibly get any thicker, any bigger … but it does.

My mouth is dry, my stomach leaping like I’ve just crested over the highest peak of a rollercoaster going at max speed.

It bobs up and down in the air, throbbing rhythmically. It’s big and thick and veiny. His mushroom head is swollen, pink and smooth.

I’ve been numb until now, standing here with my head scrambled. But suddenly, I feel something.

Arousal.

Arousal like I’ve never felt before, white-hot and urgent, roaring through my body. A sharp ache detonates between my legs, and I’m now aware of how wet I am.

My gaze crawls back up his body, past the sharp lines of his muscles. He’s still frozen, his hands holding the towel at his hair. The pose makes his shoulder muscles pop, accentuating their width.

Our eyes lock.

Adrenaline buzzes through me, making the pads of my fingers tingle.

Tuck’s eyes simmer.

Time ticks by. Neither of us moves, but the smoldering intensity in Tuck’s eyes grows while the tension inside me winds tighter.

“Get on your knees,” he finally says. His voice is low and thick.

I obey. I don’t even think about it. I take a step back and kneel. My bare knees scratch against the rough fabric of the hotel carpet.

Tuck lets the towel drop behind him.

“Good girl,” he rasps.

My heartbeat roars in my ears. My pulse is going crazy. My breath stutters as Tuck starts to walk towards me, slowly, my eyes lined up with his throbbing length.

My eyes pop when he steps close enough for me to see the opening of his swollen head glistening, a bead of precum sitting on it like a jewel.

His smell fills my nose. He’s freshly soaped, his scent crisp and clean, but there’s a raw, masculine undertone.

“You know what I don’t think is fair, Olivia?” he asks, his voice full of gravel. His eyes gleam as he looks down at me. “That I got you off, but you never returned the favor. What do you think? Does that sound fair to you?”

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