Page 73 of Grudge Puck
And in the span of only two nights? We'd started as 'enemies' that somehow lured each other into bed for a wild and downright dirty hate-fuck. We'd ended up as, errr,whateverwe were the next night—but we were desperate to taste each other's flesh in as many different ways as we could. We climbed out of bed and fucked hard and dirty on the hotel carpet, like we were acting out a replay of the last night's hate-fueled fuck session. We climbed back into bed and fucked slowly, gently, with our eyes locked on each other—almostas if we were dumb enough to actually starting falling in love with each other.
… Yeah. Fair to say, a lot of emotions were involved. And I knew better than to trust those emotions one bit.
So I made sure to give Beau a long leash. Or maybe it wasn't a leash I was giving him, but rather enough rope to hang himself. To see if the bad boy's old habits resurfaced as soon as he got a little distance from his shiny new toy.
But I have to give Beau credit. I wasn't the jealous, crazy mess I was afraid I'd be, and it was all because he stayed well within the bounds of my secret ground-rules.
Towards the end of the first day, he texted me to let me know he'd arrived safe in Boston. I sent him a simple thumbs-up.
Later that night, I was pleasantly surprised when Beau called me and wanted to chat. I told him about my day, even though I was worried it'd be too trivial for a professional athlete. He made millions of dollars being a famous sports star—the hell did he care about the day-to-day of a small-time vegan bakery owner?
But he listened to my worries, my struggles. And he asked questions about the business. And, craziest of all, he cared what I had to say—I could hear it in his voice.
Could he actually be serious?
He told me that he'd already told Hunter he was taking the rest of the year a lot more seriously. He wasn't going to any more clubs, because he didn't want to 'fuck this up.'
This,meaning me and him. I could barely hold back my glee—but still it was a lot to process. I was riding on the post-hookup high and I knew I couldn't trust my feelings.
Then Beau said he had to go—he was wiped from last night and needed to catch up on his sleep. We said goodbye and hung up.
A moment later, my phone buzzed with a text message from Beau. I opened it to see—
“Ohmygod!” I blurted out, laughing uproariously.
Beau had sent me a picture of his pretty cock, fully erect.Fuck he's big,I muttered under my breath as I closely studied him in all his veiny glory. And I actuallymissedit. Ever miss a body part? I didn't think it was possible until then. Of course I missed the guy it was attached to, too … but … y'know. At the moment, I could've really gone for that dick.
Anyway. The caption read: “Can't sleep. Thinking about you. You said I could send you one dick pic, remember?”
“Yup. Hope you got it out of your system,” I joked back.
“Don't lie Cammy. You know you want more.”
I grinned. “Well, if you feel like sending more, okay …”
He fired back a message immediately: “Show me some tits first.”
Giggling at my wit, I googled a pair of 'some tits' and sent him those instead. “Here's some tits.”
“I meant your tits, obviously,” he answered. “I don't want random tits. I want yours.”
“I don't do nudes,” I answered him.
… But I followed that text by sending him a sneaky shot—with my shirt lifted up to show off my breasts in a red lace demi bra.
Beau replied a few minutes later with a picture of his own: his cock, looking a little less hard, as it laid flat against his muscled navel. A huge, sticky mess of cum splattered his abs and chest.
His message read, “Damn. Thanks. Came so hard to that pic.”
“Oh my God Beau,” I replied,followed by ten tongue emojis.
“Like that?” he answered,wink-face.
“Yummm,” I replied.
“Now I can pass out. Good night for real,” he texted again.
Still staring at the picture of Beau's cum, drizzled all over his clenched abs, I went straight to my bedroom. I hopped under the sheets, snuck my hand under my panties, and ran my finger-tips along my silky folds.
