Pucked Up

She looks down, her eyes on my chin rather than my face. “Never.”

“That’s right. Never. So you tell me, Su

She peeks up, her expression sweet like those maple candies I steal from my sister all the time. “Just me?”

“Not just you. You. I’m here because I want to be with you, and no other reason.”

This is way different than placating a bu

“Come on, Su

She exhales slowly, finally letting her guard down. She parts her legs and they slide along either side of me. It gives me the access I’ve been waiting for since I walked in her door. I’m not an idiot, though. I don’t move into the space.

Instead, I run my hand up the outside of her bare calf again. Stopping behind her knee, I stroke with my thumb before I reverse the movement, kneading all the way to her ankle. Su

Panties are panties: frilly, frilless, plain, fancy, lacy, cotton, satin. By the time I usually get to look at them, they’re about to come off. But for some reason, I want to know what style Su

I continue rubbing up and down the back of her calf until she starts to sigh and shift. Her head drops against the back of the chair, and her eyes flutter shut. Her toes curl against my forearm, and her lips part, which tells me she likes what I’m doing.

“You’re real tight. That feel good?” I go up higher, avoiding the ticklish spot on her knee, getting at her IT band and keeping my palms to the outside of her thighs.

“I taught three classes and then ran five miles with this new greyhound we got at the shelter.”

“You must be tired.”

She cracks one lid. “Probably not as tired as you. You’re the one who got on a plane and then drove here.”

“I’m the one who caused you all kinds of stress today.” I might as well acknowledge it.

“I’m over it.”

“You sure about that?”

She traces one of the ugly flowers on the arm of the chair. “I’m mostly over it.”

“Anything I can do to help you get totally over it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or you don’t wa

I spread my fingers wide, covering the tops of her thighs. When I’m a few inches from the hem of her shorts, I graze her i

I’ve had my hand down Su

The first time I ventured south of the border with Su

Su

Anyway, my concerns had more to do with the potential for the “authentic granola experience,” as Vi so kindly dubbed it. She told me I was too accustomed to the bu

The first time I stuck my hand down Su

Turns out I had nothing to worry about. Once I passed the mountain and dove into the valley, I got nothing but smooth, soft skin and wet, warm pussy. It was a landing strip—pointing me in the right direction.

I’m not go

Three months in now, and I still haven’t put the puck in the net. I haven’t even put my face in the net. Not for lack of trying, but opportunity hasn’t been on my side. More than once, Vi’s suggested that maybe I’m only into Su

It’s nice. So maybe part of it is the challenge. But when I see her, I’m pretty sure the tingly feeling in my dick matches that weird feeling in my chest.

That I’m willing to fly all the way out to see her, knowing there’s going to be a situation I need to handle, has to mean something, too.

I run my hands down to her knees and begin the slow ascent again. Su

I lean down and kiss the inside of her knee. “I’m sorry I made today difficult.”

“I know.”

Tension makes her thighs clench. I’m between them, so they tighten against my ribs. I keep my hands where they are, thumbs rubbing circles close to her femoral artery. Her skin is flushed, warm; her pulse is racing. She’s exactly how I want her to be, turned on and distracted. Backing off, I rest my hands on her knees and bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling when she frowns.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore, ’kay, Su

Su

She reaches up and pushes her fingers through my hair. Her nails scratch my scalp. I love it when she does that. Then her fingers tighten and release, over and over. I love it when she does that, too. If I had a tail, it’d be thumping on the ground about now.

“Stop letting the hooker bu

“They’re fans.”

“They’re sluts.”

“They’re also fans.”

“Who have their hands all over you.”

Her fingers tighten again so I smooth my hands up her legs and squeeze when I get to the hem of her shorts. I’m diverting her attention again. It’s not fair. She makes a good point. I wouldn’t like it if it was the other way around. I don’t always have control of where other people put their hands. I can only control what I do with mine.