Pucked Up

“I don’t think you need any more cookie today.”

“I haven’t even eaten—” I lift my head from her chest. She’s got the cutest look on her face, all wide-eyed and pleased with herself. “You being fu

She grins.

“I can always eat more cookie.” I start kissing a path down her stomach, but she grabs my head in her hands.

“If you go down on me again you’re either going to have a callus on your tongue, or I’m going to have one on my cookie.”

I laugh and kiss my way back up to her mouth. “I need to eat some real food anyway. Let’s put clothes on and go out. I wa

“Oooh! I know the perfect place. You’re go

Su

Half an hour later we’re dressed and in downtown Guelph. My idea of the perfect place to eat isn’t the same as Su

I falsely believe that no one who works here can possibly watch hockey. They all have dreads and wear shoes made out of hemp. But I’m dead wrong about the hockey thing. The guy who seats us knows exactly who I am, and he can’t stop talking about how much he wishes I’d been traded to Toronto.

Su

Later, when we get back to her house, we watch a movie. Naked. Well, there isn’t much watching after the first fifteen minutes, but it was fun while it lasted, and even more fun afterward. When Su

Su

“What’re you doing?”

“Staring at your boobs.”

She blinks blearily, pulling the blanket up to cover the goods and leans forward to inspect what’s in my bowl. Her nose crinkles in that cute way that tells me she’s grossed out. “Your bowl is an animal graveyard.”

“It’s delicious, though.”

“You like a box of death for a snack?”

“It sounds way less appealing when you say it like that.”

She stands, dropping the blanket on the floor. “I’m going to bed.”

I drop the last bone in the bowl. “Hold on. I’m coming, too.”

“You can’t leave those there.” She points to the death bowl. “Andy will eat them and be sick.”

I rush to clean them up as she heads for the stairs.

Tonight’s the last night we get to sleep together. Tomorrow morning she’s leaving on that stupid road trip. I need to make sure I’m on her mind while we’re apart. I don’t try for sex again; I go for a snuggle instead. Su

***

I wake up to terrible, humid breath in my face. I crack a lid to find Andy’s nose an inch away from mine. “Hey, buddy. You need a mint.” I roll over, but Su

When I reach the stairs, I’m hit with the sweet smell of ci

I find her in the kitchen. Her hair is still in the same braid from last night, except it’s a mess. The sun streams in the window over the sink where she’s rinsing fresh fruit, the light catching the fine blond flyaways, creating a halo. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top, and she’s braless.

She doesn’t notice me right away, so I lean against the doorjamb to watch her. She hums along to the radio as she peels peaches. I wish she wasn’t leaving this morning.

I circle around behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. It would be so easy to get her naked and get inside her right on the counter. She gasps, and at first I think it’s out of surprise, but then I notice the fine line of blood welling across the pad of her index finger.

“Ah, shit, Su

Su

I put pressure below the gash, checking to see how bad it is. It’s a clean cut, and it’s not too deep, just a surface wound. Blood wells again so I move her hand back under the water. “It’s not bad. It doesn’t need stitches or anything.” I kiss the top of her head.

She does this shuddery thing.

“You got bandages down here?”

“I think there might be some in the drawer.” She flops her hand in the general direction of the cupboards to our right.

“I’ll get one, then?” I can’t move until she stops leaning on me.

“I think I need to sit down.” The words come out all drunken sounding. Then Su

“Sweets?” I crouch, using my shoulder to stop her head from lolling around. Her eyes are rolled up, and she’s total dead weight. She fainted. I prop her against the cabinets, adjusting her limp body so she won’t fall over. This isn’t going the way I pla

The paper towels are a couple inches out of reach. To prevent her from falling over, I stand in front of her, bracing my thigh against her shoulder to hold her up. It isn’t the best position, well, not for the situation, anyway. My dick is two inches from her face, and I’m naked.

She starts to come to as I snatch up the paper towels. Ripping off a couple of sheets, I reposition to crouch again, but she wraps her arms around my legs and face-butts me in the junk. I grunt, pain shooting up my spine and nailing me right in the back of the throat. Bile comes with it, as does the sensation that my balls are going to forever reside below my Adam’s apple.

I drop to the floor in front of her, gritting my teeth. My vision blurs and then clears.

“Miller?” She’s all breathy and confused.

I feel her palm on my cheek. Her piercing scream makes my ears hurt as much as my balls. Then she faints again.

I wipe at the damp spot on my cheek and check my fingers. There’s a faint streak of red, almost dried already. I wet the paper towel and wipe my cheek until it comes clean. Then I wrap a clean paper towel around her bloody finger and wait for her to come around a second time. My balls still really fucking hurt, but they’ll be fine in a couple hours. A face-butt to the groin is nothing like a puck or a stick to the cup.