Page 75 of Puck Daddies
The first thing I hear is my breathing. Then theirs.
I blink and look around and realize just how wet I am. Hudson huffs at the end of the bed, eyes on me. Cock limp now, mouth cursing. “…coming back to us?”
My mouth is dry. I rasp out, “Yeah. Think so.”
Oliver passes me a glass of water, and I gulp it down clumsily. He smirks. “We gotta do that again.”
“Give a girl a minute.”
He snorts, and the other two chuckle. “Pretty sure I meant in the future sometime, not immediately. I um…well…” He gestures to his limp cock and then my thigh where he came on me. “That was too hot. Couldn’t hold back.”
I giggle at that. “Glad you enjoyed the show.”
“His flesh is weak,” Rocco growls as he spreads my legs with his body. “Mine is not.” He thrusts in, and it’s all I can do to take him.
My pussy is still rolling in pleasure, and now, stuffed with him, I’m about to come again. Can’t stop it if I tried. We shift, bodies finding new angles without losing contact. He tastes like me and like tea, and I cling to his shoulders and breathe him in.
“That’s it, amor. You’re doing so good. Not every girl can take what I have to give.” He nuzzles against my neck as he pumps into me. “But you’re the one. Just like that, ride me from underneath. Take it. Take it all.”
“Don’t stop!” I gasp and press my face into Rocco’s neck. I’m right there until I’m over the edge, struggling to breathe through it and failing. Hudson curses and spreads my ankles wide behind Rocco, changing the angle.
It makes my orgasm hit harder, faster, and I can’t think to safeword or breathe or anything, because I have no thoughts anymore. Just my climax, hitting over and over again. Rocco holds me through the aftershocks, whispering that I’m okay until I am as Hudson sets my feet to the bed again.
What the hell was that?
We breathe for a minute. Water. Kisses. Hands on skin that feels almost too hot. Then I look up, and the heat rises again withoutwarning. I need them. I need this. “Again,” I say, and I laugh at myself, because I didn’t think I had it in me.
Oliver abruptly rolls me over onto my stomach, and so much wet drips onto the bed that if I had thoughts left, I might feel guilty for Hudson’s sheets. But then Oliver easily glides in from behind because I’m still so damn wet, and hooks his arms beneath my shoulders. “Round two.”
He reaches underneath me and strokes me with his hand. I jump hard enough from the shock that our bodies smack together. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let up. He plays with my clit in time with his thrusts, and then Hudson and Rocco each take a hand and hold me to the bed as he fucks me and forces me to come on his cock.
There is no word for this buttaking. Pure and simple. And I want them to take me in every way possible.
Oliver pumps into me, teeth where my neck and shoulder meet. He licks the teeth impressions and growls, “If you’re a good girl, I’ll fuck your ass tonight. But you have to beg for it. Beg pretty for it. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” I manage to hiss out. “Please! I want it all!” I barely know what I’m saying—his length rubs against my G-spot for inches on every stroke, and his fingers dance around my clit as I see stars.
When a finger of his presses against my ass, I come again, squirming against him, for him, because of him. That finger slips in, making my orgasm into rolling thunder.
“That’s it. We’re going again,” Hudson promises. He’s hard again. So is Rocco.
We’re just getting started. Terrible shame about all the things we were supposed to do in the morning. I grin into the pillow as they roll me over, and we begin again.
26
HUDSON
I parkoutside the clinic the team uses for counseling and sit in the truck for two minutes because showing up is easy to say and harder to do. I go in anyway. The receptionist checks me in. The counselor—Dr. Keane—meets me in the hall and leads me to a small room with two chairs and a stubborn plant.
We set goals. Fewer blowups. No cheap shots. Notice triggers sooner. Replace heat with a plan. She asks for the story of the tunnel snap. I tell it clean, no excuses.
She writes three words on a pad:notice, name, navigate. She shows me a sixty-second body scan. Feet. Calves. Thighs. Chest. Jaw. Hands. If a part is buzzing, pause. Then there’s a four-count breath. In four. Hold two. Out six. Repeat.
We build a script for hot moments:Pause. Breathe. Water. Step back. Find the next right thing.
I say it until it stops sounding dumb. But I force it into a mantra.
Coping mechanisms are next, and sadly do not include the kind of sex we had last night. Sex is, apparently, a good physical stressreliever, but if there’s anything wrong in your head at the time, Dr. Keane says, it can make the stress worse.
