Page 37 of No Pucking Way

“Let me go,” I snarled. “I don’t know if this is something you and your friends do as fucked up fun—but stop doing it with me.” My words were slurred and embarrassing, and hot tears were gathering in my eyes.

“It’s not Iike that. I promise,” he said desperately.

“I don’t understand,” I cried out, still trying to push away from him.

Jack swore again…

And then his lips crashed against mine, a searing kiss that scorched my insides, spreading warmth through my veins where there had only been cold. Our tongues danced together, and the world seemed to disappear as we lost ourselves in each other.

His kiss felt like coming home.

I’d thought about having some sloppy kisses since waking up in that hospital, times when I’d let Carrie set me up on a date—where I’d think about letting some guy stick his tongue down my throat to see if I could feel anything.

This was the opposite of sloppy. It was like we’d done this dance a million times before, like his lips were meant to be mine. A tear slid down my cheek at the pure emotion I felt passing between us.

He licked and sucked at my mouth, like I was the oxygen he needed to breathe. The music played around us, a room full of people but we might as well have been alone. His hard cock pressed into me and I moaned, wanting more. He had one hand on my ass and the other one tangled in my hair, sliding my head exactly where he wanted me.

I needed more. I’d never craved anything since I’d woken up.

But I was definitely craving him.

His hand tightened on my ass and then…

Someone nearby whooped loudly, bringing reality crashing over us.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,” Jack hissed as we pulled apart abruptly. He glanced around us with a glare, like he was trying to find who had dared to break up our kiss. He was still holding me against him, and when he glanced down at me again, he pressed one last kiss on my mouth, like he couldn’t help himself. Our breaths were ragged and a rosy warmth was spread all over my chest and I’m sure my cheeks.

His thumb caressed my skin, desire simmering in the golden hue of his gaze.

“A drink. I need another drink,” I blurted out, suddenly extremely uncomfortable with all the emotions slashing between us.

He smiled, amused. Like he once again knew something I didn’t.

“Okay, pretty girl. We’ll get you a drink.”

We headed back to the bar where Carrie was still holding court, a crowd of people hanging on whatever story she was telling.

At least it sounded like she’d moved on from dogs.

As soon as she saw me, she started waving her hands in her face like she was trying to cool off.

“Fuck, Kennedy. Are you pregnant yet?”

I choked out a surprised…and embarrassed cough, Jack’s chest shaking in laughter against my back.

Carrie grabbed her phone and blearily tapped at the screen, aiming it at Jack. She leaned in close to me, her voice a drunken whisper-yell. "This one's for your 'spank bank,' Kennedy."

I snorted, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But it actually sounded like a genius idea.

Carrie’s attempts at taking a picture were abandoned when the door of the bar opened, and a tall, handsome man walked in. Because I was so drunk, it took me a moment to realize it was Carrie's husband. Keith.

She let out an excited squeal and launched herself forward, throwing her arms around him. "Baby! You're here!"

Her husband caught her in his arms, his face breaking into a fond smile. "You look like you’re having a good time,” he murmured, his hands caressing her face.

Sharp longing shot through me as I watched them. They were so in love. I wanted something like that.

Carrie began to whisper loudly to him, her words punctuated with playful giggles. "Oh, you have no idea what I'm going to do to you when we get home. It involves whipped cream and your dick...and you’re definitely fucking me in the ass."

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