Page 70 of The Puck Player

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praises, the words sending a thrill through me in a way Ben’s never did, and it only has me working my hand harder.

Once he deems his cock wet enough, he shoves my hand off, spitting once more on my tits, and then placing his cock between them. He fists each breast, smashing them together until he can make a vice for his cock, and then slowly rolls his hips, testing how well it works and groaning deeply, seemingly satisfied. Then he is fucking them, hard and rough with quick snaps of his hips, his fingers and thumbs pinching my nipples until I am crying out.

“Now, ask me your question again,” he demands, and I meet his stare, too turned on and confused to understand.

“What?” I ask on a moan, forcing my head back into the bench, as my legs begin to squirm.

“Ask me your question about what we are,” he adds, his jaw tight and words gritted, and he snaps his hips in quick succession.

“Are we friends?” I force out shakily, and his answering grin is nothing but wicked.

“I don’t know, love, does it feel like I’m your friend when I fuck your tits?” he asks, fucking them even harder, as if punishing me for even thinking it, let alone asking. “Did it feel friendly when you came all over my face and tongue? Or how about when you dry humped my cock instead of confessing your sins? Was that friendship bonding too?” he grits, getting angrier the more he fucks me, and all I can do is lay back and take it.

“No,” I cry, flicking my eyes down, my mouth watering at the sight of his cock going back and forth, and I can’t stop myself from dipping down my chin and holding out my tongue.

“Look at you, so fucking friendly looking for a taste of my cock,” he grunts, thrusting forward and then holding himself against my tongue. I swirl it around him as much as I can, savoring the deep, masculine moan that roars from the back of his throat. “Fuck, Aubree, you drive me fucking crazy. Fucking friends,” he shakes his head with a humorless laugh, pulling back and fucking me again, holding my tits even tighter. “I told you what would happened if you kissed me again, love, you’re fucking mine, so I don’t want to hear one more fucking word about friends,” he hisses, tossing his head back as his body starts to shake.

Cum explodes against my chest and chin, as he jerks himself between my breasts through his orgasm, and it’s honestly the hottest thing I have ever witnessed in my life. I open my mouth to tell him just that, but before I can he is pulling away, droppingdown and lapping at my cum-covered chest and cleaning himself off me.

Then he presses his hand around my throat, opens my mouth with his thumb and spits again, shooting his cum into my mouth, before closing it again. “Now, swallow it like a good little sinner,” he demands, and I obey him instantly, his eyes darkening in delight as he watches me. “Now tell me what you are?” he asks again, and I swallow once more, licking the remnants of him off my lips.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, and he nods, squeezing my throat roughly.

“That’s right, you’re mine, and I’m yours, so don’t fucking question it again.” Then he pushes off me and strolls back across the closet, like the last ten minutes didn’t even happen.

Well, I guess that’s that. Alexander Reign is my boyfriend.

The next few hours are dull in comparison to my morning, but alas, it’s still nice to spend my mother’s birthday with her. She and my dad didn’t stumble home until almost 7 AM this morning, and I’m pretty sure they were both still drunk as the caterers served us all her birthday brunch, much to mine and Glinda’s amusement. It was a casual five course meal that was just as delicious as always, and then we did gifts and photographs. I bought her a Birkin, but my father had to overshadow me by buying her an island. Fucking show off. Then of course, my mother was once again gushing over my new girlfriend, taking selfies of them and posting them online. Aubree was still slack-jawed in my mother’s presence, while I was distracted by thinking about her mouth dripping with my cum. All in all it was a great brunch.

When we said goodbye it felt more bittersweet than usual, and I realized it’s because for once, I genuinely enjoyed being away from campus, and it’s all because of the girl I kept tucked into my side. My father told me she was a great choice, and my mother threatened to spank me if I broke her heart, so it’s safe to say Aubree won them over.

On the drive back to Fairfield she was quiet, fiddling with her phone in her lap, and though she won’t admit it, I know this whole Ben thing is weighing on her more than she claims. Not that she has to worry, I won’t be letting that fucking wanker within ten feet of her again. I spoke with the security team this morning and no one has seen him yet, which means I need to push Duchess a little harder for his whereabouts. He might be a fucking weasel, but he can’t fucking hide from me.

When we pull into the garage back at the house I’m in a pissy mood, because I know my friends are going to want to talk about this weekend, but all I want to do is drag my girl upstairs and have her ride my face. Yet the second I have our bags in hand, and am leading her from the garage to the front porch, someone calls out her name.

“Bree,” the feminine voice chokes out, and I feel Aubree tense beside me, as she turns slowly and comes face to face with her ex-best friend.

Valerie? Malorie? Who fucking cares?

I place our bags on the porch steps, and then turn to face her as she makes her way down the path, and it’s only now that I notice her car parked a couple of houses down. I see Aubree watching her approach, and I wish I could read her mind and work out how she is feeling about this. Does she need me to step in?

“How did you find me?” Aubree asks, her voice holding steady and strong, and Malorie pauses a few feet away from us, shifting uncomfortably.

“I went to see your dad, he said you’d be here,” she replies with a shrug, cringing slightly. “He wasn’t happy to see me.”

Gee I wonder fucking why?

Aubree scoffs at that. “Do you expect me to care?” she asks with a shake of her head, laughing a little, but I know she doesn’t find any of this funny. “What are you even doing here, Malorie? In case me blocking you wasn’t obvious, I have nothing to say to you.”

Malorie flinches at her words, but takes a deep breath. “It’s Ben,” she starts, and Aubree scoffs again, turning on her heel to leave. “Bree, please,” she cries, rushing forward, but I take one singular step, blocking her way to my girl, and her stare flicks between us both. “Please, Bree, I’ve never seen him like this, he’s lost his mind, he’s just so fucking angry,” she explains, and now it’s my turn to scoff.

Yeah we saw how fucking angry he was, all over her fucking car.

“Yeah, he’s not the only one who’s fucking angry,” Aubree mutters, stepping closer into my side, and I know Malorie tracks the movement.

“He sees you as his, you’re his property, you belong to him,” she tries again.

“She is no one’s fucking property,” I spit, startling her slightly, my rage intensifying inside of me, but Aubree places a gentle hand on my forearm.

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