Forever Pucked Read Online Free PDF Page A

sleeping alone tonight. I’m still getting over that, so I’m not as nice as I should be. “Thanks for sending it to my work.”
    “You don’t like it? The pictures you sent me seem to indicate otherwise.”
    I roll my eyes. “It’s ridiculous.”
    “Which is why you love it.” He tucks my damp hair behind my ear, skimming my cheek with warm fingers.
    I try to remain annoyed. “Where are we going to put it?”
    “I was thinking we could bring it to the Chicago cottage. It can be our mascot.”
    Alex has two cottages. He likes to buy property. The Chicago cottage is just as nice as his Ontario cottage and only two hours away, on Lake Geneva, instead of a plane ride followed by two hours in the car. The beaver would be appropriate at the Ontario cottage, since it’s in Canada, but I don’t think they’d let it on the plane. The Chicago cottage isn’t a bad second choice. Not that this is relevant to anything.
    I haven’t seen Alex in eight days. It’s our First Real Date Sexiversary, and I totally didn’t expect him to be here tonight. Although my heart still feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest for a multitude of reasons, all I want is to rub up on him like a bear on a tree, or a beaver on some wood. Either way, there needs to be rubbing. Preferably leading to an orgasm.
    He pulls me close, wrapping me in his arms, and I sink into him. He’s so warm and solid and perfect. “I’m glad you’re home, even if you almost gave me a heart attack.”
    “Me, too. I missed you.” His hands move to my ass, and he squeezes softly. He bends to kiss me, which is when I get a whiff of stale, oniony yuck.
    I purse my lips and wrinkle my nose. “Smells like you made out with a Big Mac.”
    He grimaces. “That bad, eh?”
    He’s close talking, so even though I try not to breathe, I still get hit with another shot of grossness. He smells like diesel exhaust, sweat masked with deodorant, and fast food.
    “What’d you eat? A plate of raw onions?”
    “We stopped at a diner. I had a burger.” He sounds apologetic. Our dinners matched.
    As much as I’ve missed him, I’m not having sex with him like this. I might have a year ago, but now I can wait until he showers and brushes his teeth. I should probably do the same.
    “Let’s go get cleaned up,” I suggest.
    Alex picks me up in a frontwards piggyback—a piggyfront—and carries me up the stairs. I don’t bother trying to make conversation; I’m too busy kissing his neck, which tastes salty, but otherwise fine. Alex adjusts his grip when we get to the bedroom and pushes the door open. Candles cast a dim glow around the room, and rose petals—real, not fake based on the smell—litter the comforter. No wonder he hasn’t had time to shower. He’s been setting up a romantic reunion—apart from freaking me out with the cardboard-cutout army, anyway.
    Little does he know I have plans of my own for us, and all the important stuff is downstairs in the living room by the fireplace. The rest is in the fridge. It’s okay, though. If we don’t make it down there tonight, there’s always tomorrow, or the day after that.
    He sets me on the bed and leans down, resting his head on my boobs so he can nuzzle in. When he pulls away after what I feel is too short a time, I clamp my legs around his waist.
    He shifts so his chin rests in the valley of my boobs. His expression is serious, but his eyes reveal his amusement. “I can’t get clean if you won’t let me go.”
    He runs a gentle hand down the outside of my thigh, stopping at the back of my knee, urging me to disengage. I can feel the monster cock. He’s already excited about being close to my beaver, so I’m reluctant to let go. Alex has a point, though.
    My skirt is pooled around my waist, but I’m wearing opaque tights, so he can’t see anything important. Like my undies. I can’t remember which ones I put on this morning, having been in a bit of a rush.
    Alex straightens with his palms still