Page 61 of Tricky Puck
She doesn’t resist me as I wrap my arms tight, holding her against me and my growing dick. I’m waiting for her to drop the hammer on me and push me away. But I’m enjoying the moment while I can.
Her body fits so well against mine, feels so sweet, her breasts crushed against my chest and her arms around my neck, toying with the locks of hair at my nape.
I lower my forehead to touch hers.
“Anything else you need to tell me?” she says.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because Cherry and Tina told me about the big team event Thursday night. Said it was a dress up affair and if I’m going, I’m going to need to buy a dress and a heads up would be nice.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I guess you distracted me. I meant to tell you. Of course you’re going.”
“Nice way to ask a girl out. How can I resist?”
“Hey, I bought you flowers, didn’t I?”
She laughs. “That was funny. The chocolates were a good call though.”
My pulse picks up. I don’t know why I was reluctant to give her the book, but this is the time.
“I have one more surprise for you.” I let her go and retrieve the bag, slipping the book out and hand it to her.
“You got me a book?” There’s more excitement than disbelief in her voice and it feels like someone popped a champagne bottle inside me, and all the fizz is spreading through my chest in celebration.
“Not just any book.”
She looks at it, studying the title, then flipping the pages open. “A book of poetry.” She bites her lip, still staring at the pages. “Because you think I’m a poet.” Her voice is shaky.
“Because I know you’re a poet.”
She looks up at me and laughs and flings her arms around me. I lift her and move her into the living room onto the couch.
She kisses me, her tongue flitting all over, driving me crazy. Then she separates our lips, nibbling at mine as she talks.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to sing my song—our song.”
Our song. The words make me shiver. Is it fear or excitement—but not the kind I know all about, something unfamiliar. Something that makes my heart pound in fear.
“Go for it.” The gravelly brave words leave my mouth before I have the good sense to crush the need. Because some foreign need drives me right now as I lose myself in the blue of her eyes, lose all the pirate inclinations I had, that made me confident and strong and invulnerable.
Fuck it all—I feel vulnerable right now. That’s so wrong. And so unavoidable.
She clears her throat and puts some space between us, though we’re still touching, at our knees, our hands and our eyes.
When she opens her mouth and the word and melody flow from her, I’m stunned. My breath catches as she reaches deep and the words tell me of longing and needing and irresistible desire.
She finishes and we sit staring at each other in silence. I have no thoughts.
Fuck me, because all I have is feelings, swirling everywhere and wreaking havoc.
Our silence stretches and I know I should say something, but damn if I know what.
“And the man of few words strikes again.” She tries for a smile. She looks so vulnerable right now—even more than I feel—so I shake off whatever stupor I’m in and tell her whatever I can manage to say.
“There are no words.” I heave a breath. Only feelings. But I can’t bring myself to tell her that. Instead, I reach my arms around her and hug her to me. “You were amazing. Your voice is so beautiful. Like you.”
“Those words will work,” she says as our lips hover close.
