Pucked Over (Pucked #3) (32 page)

“We need to talk about this,” Violet says.

“I think we all need more wine,” Charlene says. “Especially if Violet thinks we need to talk blow jobs.” Charlene puts a hand on Sunny’s. “I’m sorry for the things you’re about to hear. I know they pertain to your brother, and it’s probably going to be disturbing. I have the name of a great therapist if you happen to need one later.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Alex and I are close, and Violet does this every time we hang out. I’m used to it.”

Charlene gives Sunny another sympathetic hand pat and sits back in her chair, her eyebrows raised in my direction. “So, like, do you mean he hasn’t come in your mouth? Is he more of a pearl necklace kind of guy?”

Sunny raises her hand. I think it’s an unconscious reaction. “Um. What do necklaces have to do with blow jobs?”

I’m grateful she asks the question, as I don’t have the guts to.

Violet looks from me to Sunny and back again. Then she glances at Charlene. “You know what a pearl necklace is, right?”

Charlene rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

“Just checking.” Her gaze flips back to me. “Are you two telling me you’re unfamiliar with pearl necklaces?”

Sunny and I nod. I feel like we’ve been missing out on a lot over these important, formative years when sexual knowledge and discovery peak. Sunny’s clearly rectifying that now. So it’s just me, all by myself, with my casual-sex hockey friend who apparently doesn’t like blow jobs. Which I now suspect is weird, along with some of his other sexual quirks—like lights off and covers on. Why does he want to cover up all that hotness, anyway?

Violet grins. It’s a horrible, devious smile on her beautiful, evil face. She twists her ponytail around her hand. “You get the guy’s jizz all over your chest and throat.”

I must make a face.

“Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Alex gets so excited when I let him come on my boobs. Then he goes down on me; it’s awesome. And sometimes I’m too sore to deal with the monster cock. Also, jizz tastes awful, so letting him come all over my chest is a decent option.”

Sunny’s horror is understandable. I can’t blame her. That’s a lot of information about Alex she didn’t need.

“So I’m guessing Balls isn’t a pearl necklace kind of guy. Hmm. Maybe he thinks he’ll choke you with his dick if the rumors are true.” At my lack of confirmation or denial, she continues. “Based on his issue after your make-out session, I’m guessing it is.” She taps her lips with a sparkly finger. “It’s considerate, if you think about it—the not wanting you to choke on his dick part.”

I shrug. “But you don’t think it’s normal for a guy not to want a blow job if it’s offered?”

I’m met with more silence and stares. Violet pulls out her phone and starts typing.

“What are you doing?” Charlene asks.

“Calling Alex.”

“What? Why?” I rush to stop her, but she rolls over the back of the couch. It’d be graceful if she didn’t land on her ass.

She pops back up, grinning. “Hey, baby!”

She has him on video, so we can all hear and see him. “Are you drunk?” he asks.

“You bet your Super MC I am. When you guys get back from your fun night, my beaver’s gonna devour your wood, like whoa.”

“I don’t think my sister needs to know that.”

“She doesn’t care. Anyway, I have a question.”

“Fire away.”

“Do you like blow jobs?”

“Uhhh…”

“It’s not a trick question. Answer yes or no. Do you like blow jobs?”

“Of course I like blow jobs.”

“Great. Thanks. Give the phone to Buck.”

“But—”

“Do it and I’ll lollipop your dick later.”

There’s some chatter in the background, then Buck’s face appears on the screen. “Buck. Quick question. Do you like blow jobs?”

“Fuck, yeah. Sunny’s mouth is the best.” There’s a loud noise. “Fuck! Waters, get off me!”

“Put Lance on the phone.”

There’s some more clattering and loud noise before the phone is finally passed to Lance. Violet has to calm Alex down by pointing out he’s a hypocrite to get mad at Miller for liking BJs.

Lance’s strawberry-blond hair pops into view. “You don’t even need to repeat the question. The answer is definitely yes. I’d give up pizza for the rest of my life if I could get a daily blow job.”

“Good luck finding a mail-order bride to fulfill that dream. Put Darren on the phone.”

Darren shows up next. Violet asks the same question. Darren’s wearing that dark, secret smile again. “Charlene can answer that.”

“Awesome. We already know you love to pearl-necklace my bestie.”

I glance at Charlene, who’s blushing. “What is it about the quiet ones?”

“You have no idea,” she says with a similar devious grin.

Violet rolls her eyes. “Pass the phone to Balls, Mr. Grey.”

There’s a round of snickers. I don’t even want to know if that’s a joke. I step out of view so Randy can’t see me, but I can still see him.

“Balls.” Violet punctuates his name with a single hip thrust. “Do you like blow jobs?”

His hand comes up to run through his hair, his forearm and biceps flexing. “They’re all right, I guess.”

“They’re all right? All right? Are you telling me that having a woman’s lips wrapped around your cock while you fuck her mouth doesn’t do it for you?”

Randy goes sideways for a second before Alex’s face appears on the screen. “Violet, baby, you can’t say things like that to other guys. Ever. Not ever. ’Kay?”

We hear Buck laughing in the background.

“Is this about your Frankenweiner, Ballistic?” That sounds like Lance.

“Shut the fuck up, man!” There’s a loud crash. “That’s under the damn cone.”

“Hey! You’re gonna get us kicked out!” Alex yells. His face reappears. “I gotta go. Ballistic and Romero are about to rip each other’s heads off. See you in a bit, babe.” The screen goes blank, and everyone looks to me.

Violet raises a brow. “Frankenweiner?”

I shrug. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, you’ve seen his dick, right? Does it look normal? Is it massive like Alex’s? I mean, he’s monstrous.” She hold up her arm and points to her wrist. “Thicker than this, that’s for sure.”

“Violet.” Charlene kicks her.

“What?”

“Sunny’s here.”

“What does that matter? I’m sure she’s accidentally seen his junk at some point. I mean, I know what Buck’s looks like, even though I don’t want to.” Violet’s drunk. She gets louder as she gains momentum. “Besides, didn’t you go into Alex’s room and steal his condom stash, Sunny? You gotta know he’s packing a massive cannon—not to mention all the years he spent in spandex.”

Sunny just shrugs.

“Anyway, it’s not Alex’s dick that matters; it’s Randy’s. Back to that. So, what’s so Franken-y about it?”

They’re staring at me intently. “I-I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Is the head a weird shape? Oh my God! Does Randy have a dick piercing?”

“He doesn’t have a dick piercing.” I would’ve felt that.

“Too bad. I’ve heard those are awesome. So what’s the deal?” She gestures for me to continue.

I shrug. “I’ve never seen it.”

I get three blank looks in response.

“It’s always dark.”

“Dark? Really? Huh. But you’ve, like, held it, right?”

“Well, yeah, of course.”

“So did it have nodules or a serious curve?”

“Nodules?”

“You know, like the nuts and bolts that stick out of Frankenstein’s head—that kind of thing.”

“There aren’t any nodules. He’s definitely circumcised, though.”

“Hmm.” Violet taps her lips. “Too bad about the foreskin; it’s super fun to play with. Sunny, you should text Buck.”

“Why?”

“Because him and Balls have known each other forever. Buck has to know what this is about.”

“Why do you care?” Sunny asks. “Maybe it’s personal. Maybe Randy’s sensitive about it.”

“He’s a guy. How sensitive can he be?”

“Some of them are very.” Sunny doesn’t immediately pull out her phone.

Violet looks around the room, seeking support. “Seriously? I can’t be the only one who’s curious about this. Here you’ve got this smoking-hot hockey player, a legend in the bunnysphere—sorry, Lily, but it’s true—and Lily’s his fuck buddy, and she hasn’t even seen his dick. She hasn’t wrapped her lips around it and gagged a little when he gets excited and goes too deep.”

“We’re not fuck buddies.”

“You’re boning him, yes?”

“Well, yeah—”

“Your beaver eats his wood?” At my silence she waves her hand around her crotch. “Less than three seconds after you walked through the door, he pulled you into my laundry room and did some magic voodoo to make you come fully clothed.”

“We’re just having fun,” I say lamely.

“So you’re banging, but you’re not dating.”

“Yes. No. But we… I—”

“That’s the twenty-first-century definition of a fuck buddy. Don’t feel bad about it. It doesn’t make you slutty. I mean, shit, you spent seven years dating that Benji douche. You deserve a fuck buddy, or seven.” She thumbs over her shoulder to Charlene. “If anyone’s slutty, it’s this one. She had three FBs going at once our last year of college.”

Charlene shrugs. “It was a phase. I’m way past that now.”

“Anyway.” Violet turns back to me. “So you’ve only had sex with the lights off, you’ve only ever had your hand on his dick, and he doesn’t like blow jobs. Doesn’t anyone else find this odd?”

“I find it weird,” Charlene agrees.

“Maybe he’s shy,” Sunny says.

“Uh, have you read any of the stuff girls say about Balls?” Violet asks.

“You know I don’t look at social media. It creates problems,” Sunny replies.

“True. But some of it has merit.” Violet ponders while sipping her wine. “How big is his dick? I know what the bunnies say, but they all like to exaggerate.”

“It’s big.”

“Like, hammer of death big?”

“Um, we use the gold condoms, not the regular ones.”

“Well. That’s, uh…” Violet nods her approval. “High five, girlfriend.” I high five her. “So he’s packing, and I’m assuming it works fine.”

“We used an entire box of condoms the last time he came to Guelph.” I might be a little braggy about this.

“Holy shit. Over how many days?”

“One.”

Violet puts her hands on my shoulders. “Does your beaver have super powers? Is it made out of titanium?”

“Um, no.”

“That’s insane. How’d you manage walking the next day?”

“Carefully.”

“Okay, so let’s line up the facts and see what we know.”

“This is like the game of Clue, but about Randy’s penis,” Sunny says.

“Exactly!” Violet exclaims, clapping her hands together. “So once the wood is sheathed, lights come on and covers come off. No blow jobs, but no issues with longevity, and he’s hung. Do I have all this right, Lily?”

“Pretty much.” Individually, those things didn’t seem too odd. But now, talking about it with the girls—particularly Violet and Charlene, who seem to have a much broader wealth of experience in this department—makes me wonder exactly what the deal is. All together, Randy’s sex quirks add up to a big WTF.

“Is there anything else you can think of that might provide clues as to what the real issue is?” Violet asks.

“Oh!” I sit up straight. “He has a scar. It looks like it could be from an appendectomy, but way low, and it seems like he had a butcher for a surgeon. He has another scar on the inside of his leg. I saw it once—never mind, that part doesn’t matter.”

“So he has scars near the wood, eh?” Violet taps her lips again.

“Above the wood, and below, but that doesn’t mean one is related to the other.”

Sunny’s on her phone. She looks up and says. “Hockey accident.”

“Why would you think that?”

“’Cause that’s what Miller just said. I messaged him about it. He won’t give me details, but he said it’s from a hockey accident, and Randy doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Wow. That must’ve been some accident if he ended up with a nickname like that,” Violet says.

“That’s a pretty awful nickname,” Sunny says.

“I’m sorry, Lily. I wouldn’t have made a joke out of it if I’d known Lance was being serious and not just a jerk.” Violet actually looks taken aback.

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m curious, too. I didn’t realize it was something so—”

“Sensitive?” Sunny says.

“Yeah.” Now I feel bad, too.

“Well, mystery solved, I guess.” Violet has recovered. She rolls off the couch and opens a set of cupboard doors. “We should play Scrabble!”

“I hate Scrabble,” Sunny complains.

“We’ll play partners,” I offer.

“And we’ll make it dirty. Only pervy words allowed.” Violet sets the game up on the floor because the coffee table’s too full of stuff.

Sunny’s first word is
hoor
. No one says anything about the spelling.

At midnight, the guys finally roll in—well, almost all of them roll in. Lance is absent. I assume he picked up a bunny and went back to his own house. Randy’s the last to come in. He stands at the back of the group, hands shoved in his pockets. He glances at me, gives me a small, strained smile, and then his eyes dart around the room.

I’m drunk, so I don’t have much of a filter left, but he looks uncomfortable.

Alex surveys the living room. The coffee table is covered in empty wine bottles and half-eaten bowls of chips and popcorn. Bits of food litter the floor. The Scrabble game is still set up and covered in dirty words.

“What’d you girls do tonight?” Alex leans over Violet and kisses her forehead. Then he adjusts her tank top so she’s not flashing so much cleavage.