We're thrilled to share an exclusive deleted scene from Pucked by Helena Hunting. The steamy scene involves table sex.... need we say more? ;) If you're looking for something fun, hilarious, completely over the top and a highly entertaining hot mess of inappropriateness, here it is! Puck is live and burning up the top 100 bestsellers on Amazon. Click here to get this standa-alone romantic comedy now. Alex is so sexy & dreamy! Find out about his Super MC. #TRSoRfave
Deleted Scene: Table Sex
So there were a few changes near the end of the story, and with those changes came the cutting of this scene. Not because I didn’t love it, because I do, but because there was already a lot of sexy times, and this one no longer fit into the story. I love this scene for so many reasons, and I’m glad I get to share it as an outtake/deleted scene.
- Note from Helena Hunting
The Lost Sex Scene (because there was just too much)
I hit the shower. Alex wants to come but I need private time; the beave needs some scaping. He stands outside the door, knocking on occasion to see if I need help. When I’m done, he stomps by me while pouting takes one of his own.
While he cleans up, I decide to order in dinner since all I have is snack food. Alex’s laptop is available. Alex’s email pops up as soon as I open it. He has a ridiculous number of unanswered messages. I minimize the screens to get to his desktop, which is rife with folders. I see one called “Beaver.”
I doubt it has anything to do with the furry animal, and everything to do with porn. I check over my shoulder. For what purpose, I’m not entirely certain. I can hear the water running in the bathroom, and no one else in my apartment. Maybe I’m awaiting the arrival of the folder-hacking fairy? She hasn’t shown up, so I click on the folder like the nosy, pseudo-hacker I am.
There are dated folders inside the main folder. The first one I click on has recent pictures of Alex and me making out in public. I smile, then remember his mother has probably seen them. Still, I feel better knowing that he, too, has a porn folder of us.
The next sub-folder is called “Beaver Sleuth.” I go ahead and click on it. These pictures of me aren’t from the media. They were taken a couple of years back when Skye and Sidney had just gotten married. They took us all on a family vacation so we could bond. Buck found a group of dickheads to hang out with on the first day. All they did was hit on me. The dickheads, not Buck. That would’ve been weird. Regardless, it was quite the experience. But that’s neither here nor there. What I want to know is how Alex came upon copies of these.
As I browse the folder, I come across one where my butt cheek is hanging out the bottom of my bikini. I was so pissed at Buck for catching me like that, and now Alex has seen it. Not that he hasn’t seen my ass up close and personal many, many times. I just don’t understand why he feels the need to have old pictures of it peeking out for the world to see, when he can have the real thing any time he wants.
I’m so engrossed in checking out my own partially exposed derriere I don’t hear Alex come up behind me. It’s not until his hard-on is pressed up against my back that I realize two things: I’m creeping on his computer, and I didn’t put real clothes on after my shower—unless you count a Hawks bathrobe.
“Watcha lookin’ at?”
He mutters an expletive as he takes in the image filling the screen. Interestingly, his immediate reaction is to reach up and grab my boobs. As though he’s trying to protect them, from what I’m not sure, but he squeezes them nonetheless. Maybe he’s trying to distract me.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“So this isn’t a picture of me with my butt hanging out that you somehow managed to get from Buck? What’s he still doing with them anyway, and why in the world would he share them with you?” I try to turn around, but Alex keeps me pinned against the table with the weight of his hips and the monster cock.
“He didn’t share them with me.” I glare at his hands, which are anxiously kneading my breasts.
“You have three seconds to start explaining before I kick your ass. And don’t bother telling me I can’t kick your ass. I know that. But I’ll lay a smackdown on the monster cock. I have a feeling he’s the mastermind behind all of this . . . this . . . butt porn.” I push my ass out against his still-hard monster cock. My boyfriend is such a pervert. Mostly I love it.
“Back up,” I order.
Alex complies and I spin around, crossing my arms over the girls. This is so I look angry, which I am, and also to cover my awesome rack. I don’t want to provide any distractions while he explains why he has ass porn from well before we met each other. I suddenly wonder if he’s been harbouring a secret crush on me for years, which could be mildly endearing if it wasn’t super creepy. I mull this over for a moment while Alex collects himself. His panic is obvious.
“Remember when we first had sex?”
I jab a finger into his solid chest. “Don’t try and distract me with sex!”
“I’m not! I’m not! But you do remember, right? The first time and the second?” His left dimple makes a brief appearance before he smartly schools his expression.
“Of course I remember.” That night, while not my best in terms of decision making, was amazing. It’s why we’re standing here. And we love each other.
“So you also remember how you took off without waking me up first and didn’t call me back after I left you messages?”
Dear God, we aren’t going here again, are we? For a famous guy, Alex has a soft ego.
"I told you why I didn’t call you back."
“Now don’t get mad at me.” The precursor to the explanation can’t be good. I can tell already. “So I was getting desperate to talk to you. I mean, you left your glasses behind. I thought that meant you wanted to see me again, but then you didn’t call me back. I didn’t know what to do. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. I wanted to see you. I was—You were on my mind constantly.”
We’ve never talked about what happened after the first beaver-wood intro. “Really?”
“Yeah. You’re this incredibly funny, sexy woman who liked that I was smart and didn’t give a rat’s ass about hockey. How could I not be taken with you? So when you didn’t call me back, I resorted to,” he bites his lip and looks down, “creeping Buck’s Facebook profile.”
“You hacked into it?”
“No. I just creeped it. There’s where I found the pictures.”
“Wait. What? Those pictures are still on his profile? I told him to take them down two years ago.”
“I guess he didn’t listen. He really should have. Those pictures are something else. I didn’t know when you’d be at another game, or if you wanted to see me. You told me you loved my cock, how could I not want to see you again after that?” Alex gets a wistful, faraway look before he continues. “So when I saw the picture with your little cheek hanging out, I thought to myself, ‘Self, I’ve already seen that fine ass up close and personal. I’ve held onto it while she rides my cock, I know how soft that skin feels. Is it that wrong for me to have a picture of one cheek playing peekaboo to look at while I whack off occasionally?’” Alex stops rambling to see how I’m taking his truth vomit.
“You whack off to the pictures in this folder?” I thumb over my shoulder at the computer. I should be angry, maybe even concerned about how sketchy Alex was at the beginning of our relationship. My beaver however, is already very interested in the visual of Alex stroking his monster cock.
Alex, like the massive horny, pervert he is, must sense my sudden arousal because he takes a slow step toward me. “Do you want to see my favourite ones?”
“Okay?” It’s a question. I’m not one-hundred percent on this.
Alex adjusts himself through his towel. “I’m sorry I saved those pictures, but only the ones from Buck. The rest I’m not sorry about at all.” He leans in to kiss me. “ They got me through the weeks when I couldn’t see you, or touch you, or be inside of you.”
He’s a crafty devil. I would formulate a response, but I’m too busy with mouth fucking. We kiss like that for a few minutes; with Alex’s very obvious hard-on nestled against my stomach.
His lips move to my neck and he turns me to face the computer, again. Alex’s MC is sandwiched between him and my ass. He reaches around and clicks the cursor, opening one of the sub folders entitled ‘JACK.’ I already have a folder called ‘JILL’ on my own laptop.
Alex has a ridiculous number of pictures of my cleavage. Much of it appears to have come from his cell phone based on the photo quality. He must sneak a lot of pictures when I’m not paying attention. He’s captured me in the Water’s shirt and panties; the one’s with WATERS’ ASS on the ass. I remember that occasion well. Alex wouldn’t let me put pants on to watch the movie. It ended up being a non-issue since I lost the underwear ten minutes into the flick. Just before they disappeared he snapped a pic while I was bent over in front of him.
“I have a nice ass.”
“Oh, it’s better than nice,” Alex agrees and presses his dick against my ass cheek. His hands migrate from my waist to my hips, thumbs sliding back and forth under the waistband.
“It’s still a ‘no go’ zone,” I warn.
“Oh, I know that, baby. Your ass is far too nice to violate with this,” Alex murmurs.
He makes it sounds so damn dirty. For a moment I entertain the idea that maybe we could—no way. It’ll never happen. Ever. That thing does damage to my cooter if I’m not prepped enough—which has only happened once. I can’t fathom the trauma if he tried to get it into my ‘area 51.’
At the soft sound of Alex’s towel hitting the floor, my entire body flames with heat. We are so going to do it in my kitchen, possibly on top of my dining room table.
“This need to come off, please.” Usually, he requests rather than demands. Regardless, I’m going to enjoy some kitchen lovin.’
He pulls the tie on my robe and tugs on the sleeves. It pools at my feet on the floor. Palms flat against the table, I push my ass out.
“This is going to be fucking fantastic.”
Leaning forward, he pushes the laptop to the middle of the table. I assume this is to give us more room. Once it’s out of the way, he runs one hand up my spine, pushing down when he reached my shoulder. His monster cock slides along my ‘access denied’ crack.
“Alex!” I protest, but I’m also moaning, so it lacks true conviction.
He backs away; the monster cock no longer making contact. I’d rather have him close to the ‘no go’ zone than not touching me at all. His hands travel along the outside of my thighs.
“What are you doing?” I crane my neck to look at him. It’s awkward.
“Deciding how exactly I want to have you.”
Alex’s fingers curl around the back of my knee as he lifts my leg up and to the side. I don’t know what he’s doing, so my first reaction is to resist. “Relax, baby. I’m going to take care of you like I always do.”
I give in, resting my cheek against the table.
“That’s better.” He sets my knee on the table, as though I’m climbing over the edge. The angle should be conducive for excellent penetration and a fantastic view for Alex. He’s all about visual stimulation tonight, I suppose.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the first night you stayed over. Except I thought we’d be doing it on my kitchen island.” His palms ease up the back of my thighs. “This is good, though. Maybe when you finally move in with me, I’ll do you like this again.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
“You can move in whenever you want.”
A moment later, he bites my right ass cheek. I gasp and then moan as he licks from my clit to penetration station. I’m shocked for all of a second before I succumb to sensation. After a few minutes of teasing, his thumb brushes my clit, followed by his tongue.
My plea is semi-coherent. “Alex, please. I want to come.”
“I bet you do.”
It’s another endless minute until his fingers find their way inside me. It takes less time than that for me to fall apart, muttering profanities about my love for all his moving appendages.
I push up on unsteady arms, groping blindly for his erection.
Alex thwacks me on the ass with his dick. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
My protest over the cock-spank is short-lived. Alex kisses my cheek, runs the head of his cock over my clit and pushes inside. Moving slowly, he gives me time to adjust.
“I like this table,” I tell him, as he hits the perfect spot with each thrust.
“Me, too. I especially like eating you on it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have you for breakfast.”
Sometimes he’s a smooth motherpucker. He pushes away, his chest no longer against my back. His hands are on my hips as he pulls out slowly and fills me even slower. “How’s this? Does it feel good?”
It occurs to me, that while he asks because he truly is a courteous lover, he also likes to hear me say dirty things during sex. It might be an ego thing, too, but I can’t be sure. I'll have to test that theory later.
“More.” I want more speed, more friction, more of him on me, in me.
“You’re already taking all of me, baby, more what?” He increases the pace a little.
I arch my back. “More cock.”
Alex groans, deep and guttural. “That’s just—” Then he fucks the living hell right out of me on my new table.
Damn right, ‘that’s just.’ The change of angle means he hits that spot inside that makes me see unicorns jumping rainbows. The porno moans begin. He’s like a jackrabbit. When I come, it’s hard. I fall forward, holding onto the edge for dear life. From what I can tell he’s got lots of stamina left before he throws in the towel. He slows down, though, giving me time to recover from the orgasm roller coaster. When he picks up the pace again, I feel another orgasm tingling my beaver button. My groan must give me away.
“I’m almost there, wait for me, baby.”
What? He wants me to wait for him? How the hell do I do that? I squeeze the beaver, hoping it will postpone my orgasm. I don’t have much hope of holding out, not that I know how to in the first place.
I begin to protest, but my words catch in my throat at the feel of his fingers on either side of his giant cock. More distracting is the finger perilously close to my backdoor. When it comes in contact with my ‘no go’ zone, I involuntarily push my ass toward him. What the hell? That’s not supposed to happen. Alex must take this as a green light. I feel an odd, uncomfortable pressure and then, sweet lord, I come so hard everything goes white.
“That is so fucking sexy,” Alex says as he thrusts into me, over and over and over again.
He hasn’t even come yet, and worse, if he keeps it up, I’m going to come again. And I do, just as he stills.
Once all of his body parts are no long invading mine, I wobble around to face him, working to remain indignant. “You!” I shake an unsteady finger in his face. “No access. Not allowed, and you—”
“You didn’t like it?” Alex catches me in his arms and sets me on the table.
“That’s not the point!” So what if I liked it? “I specifically told you that wasn’t a place to be putting your parts.”
“So you did like it.” He smirks.
“I hate you.” I smack his chest weakly.
“You love me.” He wraps me up in him.
“Whatever.” I will not admit I liked what he just did.
“I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to. I just thought I’d try . . .” He kisses my temple, all soft and sweet. “I don’t expect to ever get anything in there other than a finger or maybe two.”
Damn him.
“Fine.”
I hit the shower. Alex wants to come but I need private time; the beave needs some scaping. He stands outside the door, knocking on occasion to see if I need help. When I’m done, he stomps by me while pouting takes one of his own.
While he cleans up, I decide to order in dinner since all I have is snack food. Alex’s laptop is available. Alex’s email pops up as soon as I open it. He has a ridiculous number of unanswered messages. I minimize the screens to get to his desktop, which is rife with folders. I see one called “Beaver.”
I doubt it has anything to do with the furry animal, and everything to do with porn. I check over my shoulder. For what purpose, I’m not entirely certain. I can hear the water running in the bathroom, and no one else in my apartment. Maybe I’m awaiting the arrival of the folder-hacking fairy? She hasn’t shown up, so I click on the folder like the nosy, pseudo-hacker I am.
There are dated folders inside the main folder. The first one I click on has recent pictures of Alex and me making out in public. I smile, then remember his mother has probably seen them. Still, I feel better knowing that he, too, has a porn folder of us.
The next sub-folder is called “Beaver Sleuth.” I go ahead and click on it. These pictures of me aren’t from the media. They were taken a couple of years back when Skye and Sidney had just gotten married. They took us all on a family vacation so we could bond. Buck found a group of dickheads to hang out with on the first day. All they did was hit on me. The dickheads, not Buck. That would’ve been weird. Regardless, it was quite the experience. But that’s neither here nor there. What I want to know is how Alex came upon copies of these.
As I browse the folder, I come across one where my butt cheek is hanging out the bottom of my bikini. I was so pissed at Buck for catching me like that, and now Alex has seen it. Not that he hasn’t seen my ass up close and personal many, many times. I just don’t understand why he feels the need to have old pictures of it peeking out for the world to see, when he can have the real thing any time he wants.
I’m so engrossed in checking out my own partially exposed derriere I don’t hear Alex come up behind me. It’s not until his hard-on is pressed up against my back that I realize two things: I’m creeping on his computer, and I didn’t put real clothes on after my shower—unless you count a Hawks bathrobe.
“Watcha lookin’ at?”
He mutters an expletive as he takes in the image filling the screen. Interestingly, his immediate reaction is to reach up and grab my boobs. As though he’s trying to protect them, from what I’m not sure, but he squeezes them nonetheless. Maybe he’s trying to distract me.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“So this isn’t a picture of me with my butt hanging out that you somehow managed to get from Buck? What’s he still doing with them anyway, and why in the world would he share them with you?” I try to turn around, but Alex keeps me pinned against the table with the weight of his hips and the monster cock.
“He didn’t share them with me.” I glare at his hands, which are anxiously kneading my breasts.
“You have three seconds to start explaining before I kick your ass. And don’t bother telling me I can’t kick your ass. I know that. But I’ll lay a smackdown on the monster cock. I have a feeling he’s the mastermind behind all of this . . . this . . . butt porn.” I push my ass out against his still-hard monster cock. My boyfriend is such a pervert. Mostly I love it.
“Back up,” I order.
Alex complies and I spin around, crossing my arms over the girls. This is so I look angry, which I am, and also to cover my awesome rack. I don’t want to provide any distractions while he explains why he has ass porn from well before we met each other. I suddenly wonder if he’s been harbouring a secret crush on me for years, which could be mildly endearing if it wasn’t super creepy. I mull this over for a moment while Alex collects himself. His panic is obvious.
“Remember when we first had sex?”
I jab a finger into his solid chest. “Don’t try and distract me with sex!”
“I’m not! I’m not! But you do remember, right? The first time and the second?” His left dimple makes a brief appearance before he smartly schools his expression.
“Of course I remember.” That night, while not my best in terms of decision making, was amazing. It’s why we’re standing here. And we love each other.
“So you also remember how you took off without waking me up first and didn’t call me back after I left you messages?”
Dear God, we aren’t going here again, are we? For a famous guy, Alex has a soft ego.
"I told you why I didn’t call you back."
“Now don’t get mad at me.” The precursor to the explanation can’t be good. I can tell already. “So I was getting desperate to talk to you. I mean, you left your glasses behind. I thought that meant you wanted to see me again, but then you didn’t call me back. I didn’t know what to do. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. I wanted to see you. I was—You were on my mind constantly.”
We’ve never talked about what happened after the first beaver-wood intro. “Really?”
“Yeah. You’re this incredibly funny, sexy woman who liked that I was smart and didn’t give a rat’s ass about hockey. How could I not be taken with you? So when you didn’t call me back, I resorted to,” he bites his lip and looks down, “creeping Buck’s Facebook profile.”
“You hacked into it?”
“No. I just creeped it. There’s where I found the pictures.”
“Wait. What? Those pictures are still on his profile? I told him to take them down two years ago.”
“I guess he didn’t listen. He really should have. Those pictures are something else. I didn’t know when you’d be at another game, or if you wanted to see me. You told me you loved my cock, how could I not want to see you again after that?” Alex gets a wistful, faraway look before he continues. “So when I saw the picture with your little cheek hanging out, I thought to myself, ‘Self, I’ve already seen that fine ass up close and personal. I’ve held onto it while she rides my cock, I know how soft that skin feels. Is it that wrong for me to have a picture of one cheek playing peekaboo to look at while I whack off occasionally?’” Alex stops rambling to see how I’m taking his truth vomit.
“You whack off to the pictures in this folder?” I thumb over my shoulder at the computer. I should be angry, maybe even concerned about how sketchy Alex was at the beginning of our relationship. My beaver however, is already very interested in the visual of Alex stroking his monster cock.
Alex, like the massive horny, pervert he is, must sense my sudden arousal because he takes a slow step toward me. “Do you want to see my favourite ones?”
“Okay?” It’s a question. I’m not one-hundred percent on this.
Alex adjusts himself through his towel. “I’m sorry I saved those pictures, but only the ones from Buck. The rest I’m not sorry about at all.” He leans in to kiss me. “ They got me through the weeks when I couldn’t see you, or touch you, or be inside of you.”
He’s a crafty devil. I would formulate a response, but I’m too busy with mouth fucking. We kiss like that for a few minutes; with Alex’s very obvious hard-on nestled against my stomach.
His lips move to my neck and he turns me to face the computer, again. Alex’s MC is sandwiched between him and my ass. He reaches around and clicks the cursor, opening one of the sub folders entitled ‘JACK.’ I already have a folder called ‘JILL’ on my own laptop.
Alex has a ridiculous number of pictures of my cleavage. Much of it appears to have come from his cell phone based on the photo quality. He must sneak a lot of pictures when I’m not paying attention. He’s captured me in the Water’s shirt and panties; the one’s with WATERS’ ASS on the ass. I remember that occasion well. Alex wouldn’t let me put pants on to watch the movie. It ended up being a non-issue since I lost the underwear ten minutes into the flick. Just before they disappeared he snapped a pic while I was bent over in front of him.
“I have a nice ass.”
“Oh, it’s better than nice,” Alex agrees and presses his dick against my ass cheek. His hands migrate from my waist to my hips, thumbs sliding back and forth under the waistband.
“It’s still a ‘no go’ zone,” I warn.
“Oh, I know that, baby. Your ass is far too nice to violate with this,” Alex murmurs.
He makes it sounds so damn dirty. For a moment I entertain the idea that maybe we could—no way. It’ll never happen. Ever. That thing does damage to my cooter if I’m not prepped enough—which has only happened once. I can’t fathom the trauma if he tried to get it into my ‘area 51.’
At the soft sound of Alex’s towel hitting the floor, my entire body flames with heat. We are so going to do it in my kitchen, possibly on top of my dining room table.
“This need to come off, please.” Usually, he requests rather than demands. Regardless, I’m going to enjoy some kitchen lovin.’
He pulls the tie on my robe and tugs on the sleeves. It pools at my feet on the floor. Palms flat against the table, I push my ass out.
“This is going to be fucking fantastic.”
Leaning forward, he pushes the laptop to the middle of the table. I assume this is to give us more room. Once it’s out of the way, he runs one hand up my spine, pushing down when he reached my shoulder. His monster cock slides along my ‘access denied’ crack.
“Alex!” I protest, but I’m also moaning, so it lacks true conviction.
He backs away; the monster cock no longer making contact. I’d rather have him close to the ‘no go’ zone than not touching me at all. His hands travel along the outside of my thighs.
“What are you doing?” I crane my neck to look at him. It’s awkward.
“Deciding how exactly I want to have you.”
Alex’s fingers curl around the back of my knee as he lifts my leg up and to the side. I don’t know what he’s doing, so my first reaction is to resist. “Relax, baby. I’m going to take care of you like I always do.”
I give in, resting my cheek against the table.
“That’s better.” He sets my knee on the table, as though I’m climbing over the edge. The angle should be conducive for excellent penetration and a fantastic view for Alex. He’s all about visual stimulation tonight, I suppose.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the first night you stayed over. Except I thought we’d be doing it on my kitchen island.” His palms ease up the back of my thighs. “This is good, though. Maybe when you finally move in with me, I’ll do you like this again.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
“You can move in whenever you want.”
A moment later, he bites my right ass cheek. I gasp and then moan as he licks from my clit to penetration station. I’m shocked for all of a second before I succumb to sensation. After a few minutes of teasing, his thumb brushes my clit, followed by his tongue.
My plea is semi-coherent. “Alex, please. I want to come.”
“I bet you do.”
It’s another endless minute until his fingers find their way inside me. It takes less time than that for me to fall apart, muttering profanities about my love for all his moving appendages.
I push up on unsteady arms, groping blindly for his erection.
Alex thwacks me on the ass with his dick. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
My protest over the cock-spank is short-lived. Alex kisses my cheek, runs the head of his cock over my clit and pushes inside. Moving slowly, he gives me time to adjust.
“I like this table,” I tell him, as he hits the perfect spot with each thrust.
“Me, too. I especially like eating you on it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have you for breakfast.”
Sometimes he’s a smooth motherpucker. He pushes away, his chest no longer against my back. His hands are on my hips as he pulls out slowly and fills me even slower. “How’s this? Does it feel good?”
It occurs to me, that while he asks because he truly is a courteous lover, he also likes to hear me say dirty things during sex. It might be an ego thing, too, but I can’t be sure. I'll have to test that theory later.
“More.” I want more speed, more friction, more of him on me, in me.
“You’re already taking all of me, baby, more what?” He increases the pace a little.
I arch my back. “More cock.”
Alex groans, deep and guttural. “That’s just—” Then he fucks the living hell right out of me on my new table.
Damn right, ‘that’s just.’ The change of angle means he hits that spot inside that makes me see unicorns jumping rainbows. The porno moans begin. He’s like a jackrabbit. When I come, it’s hard. I fall forward, holding onto the edge for dear life. From what I can tell he’s got lots of stamina left before he throws in the towel. He slows down, though, giving me time to recover from the orgasm roller coaster. When he picks up the pace again, I feel another orgasm tingling my beaver button. My groan must give me away.
“I’m almost there, wait for me, baby.”
What? He wants me to wait for him? How the hell do I do that? I squeeze the beaver, hoping it will postpone my orgasm. I don’t have much hope of holding out, not that I know how to in the first place.
I begin to protest, but my words catch in my throat at the feel of his fingers on either side of his giant cock. More distracting is the finger perilously close to my backdoor. When it comes in contact with my ‘no go’ zone, I involuntarily push my ass toward him. What the hell? That’s not supposed to happen. Alex must take this as a green light. I feel an odd, uncomfortable pressure and then, sweet lord, I come so hard everything goes white.
“That is so fucking sexy,” Alex says as he thrusts into me, over and over and over again.
He hasn’t even come yet, and worse, if he keeps it up, I’m going to come again. And I do, just as he stills.
Once all of his body parts are no long invading mine, I wobble around to face him, working to remain indignant. “You!” I shake an unsteady finger in his face. “No access. Not allowed, and you—”
“You didn’t like it?” Alex catches me in his arms and sets me on the table.
“That’s not the point!” So what if I liked it? “I specifically told you that wasn’t a place to be putting your parts.”
“So you did like it.” He smirks.
“I hate you.” I smack his chest weakly.
“You love me.” He wraps me up in him.
“Whatever.” I will not admit I liked what he just did.
“I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to. I just thought I’d try . . .” He kisses my temple, all soft and sweet. “I don’t expect to ever get anything in there other than a finger or maybe two.”
Damn him.
“Fine.”
Teasers
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Pucked, Synopsis and Purchase Link
Stand-alone Romantic Comedy
With a famous NHL player for a stepbrother, Violet Hall is well acquainted with the playboy reputation of many a hockey star. So of course she isn’t interested in legendary team captain Alex Waters or his pretty, beat-up face and rock-hard six-pack abs. When Alex inadvertently obliterates Violet’s misapprehension regarding the inferior intellect of hockey players, he becomes much more than just a hot body with the face to match.
Suffering from a complete lapse in judgment, Violet discovers just how good Alex is with the hockey stick in his pants. Violet believes her night of orgasmic magic with Alex is just that: one night. But Alex starts to call. And text. And email and send extravagant—and quirky—gifts. Suddenly, he's too difficult to ignore, and nearly impossible not to like.
The problem is, the media portrays Alex as a total player, and Violet doesn’t want to be part of the game.
Suffering from a complete lapse in judgment, Violet discovers just how good Alex is with the hockey stick in his pants. Violet believes her night of orgasmic magic with Alex is just that: one night. But Alex starts to call. And text. And email and send extravagant—and quirky—gifts. Suddenly, he's too difficult to ignore, and nearly impossible not to like.
The problem is, the media portrays Alex as a total player, and Violet doesn’t want to be part of the game.