Page 105 of Puck Wild


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I clamped a hand over my face, trying to hold it together. "Holy shit, Jake—"

"Wow, Spreadsheet. That's your dirty talk? 'Holy shit'? How do you color-code orgasms on your spreadsheets?"

I barely managed to breathe. "If I did, you'd be a statistical outlier."

"Damn right."

Jake pressed his body up against me, bare skin on skin, and for a second, I thought he might fuck me right there on the counter, flour and all. "If you want the full treatment, we might need some… equipment."

"Nightstand."

"Be right back. Nobody move." He pecked me on the lips—gentle and quick—before sprinting down the hall.

The sound of the bedroom door bumping the wall, followed by frantic rummaging, made me laugh despite the trembling in my thighs. I glanced down: my skin was a patchwork of flour, sweat, and bite marks, and my cock appeared cartoonishly out of place, flushed and sticky with spit.

A minute later, Jake reappeared. He'd lost his sweatpants somewhere, and he clamped the condom package between his teeth. He had a bottle of lube in one hand.

He grinned. "Well, well. Looks like somebody's about to get thoroughly safety-inspected."

"Fuck," I gasped.

"You want to do this here, or you want a less—" he glanced around at the carnage "—powdered-sugar-adjacent environment?"

"I'm not sure the kitchen can take more abuse."

Jake rubbed his chin with his free hand. "Fair. We should preserve it. For… brunch." He scooped me up off the marble and carried me—bridal style—straight down the hall, and we trailed a fine white mist like the world's worst wedding processional.

"Careful," I warned. "If you break your ankle before Thursday, Coach will murder you and then make you run stairs in hell."

"I'll use the other foot. I'm an innovator." He body-checked his bedroom door open, dumped me onto the unmade bed, and tumbled in after, wrestling me onto my back with gleeful ferocity.

The sheets were a disaster—Jake never made the bed, claiming it was polite to leave it open for napping emergencies. I didn't care.

He knelt above me, a condom wrapper pinched between his fingers. "Now, let's review the steps. Step one: don't blast your boyfriend off the face of the earth."

He ripped the foil and rolled the condom on. My mouth went dry as I watched. "Step two: apply product generously." He popped the lube open with his thumb and looked at me. "Remind me: is this a single or double coating situation?"

"Are you doing a home improvement ad?" I laughed. "Just—look, I trust you."

Jake's grin softened. He bent down and kissed the inside of my knee, slow and deliberate, then pushed my thighs apart with both hands.

He spread the lube—way too much, predictably—and rubbed it in with his fingers, first feather-light, then steady and deep. I was still half-covered in flour, so his hands left sticky trails, and the smell of the bakery aisle and sweat filled the room.

He worked one finger inside me, gentle at first, then more direct, curling and searching until he found the spot that made me gasp. I dug my fingers into the sheets, knuckles tight, and Jake looked up, eyes lighting up like he was unboxing a new toy. "Good?"

My answer was a helpless whimper.

He added a second finger, twisting, opening me up. I rocked down, desperate for friction, but Jake held me steady with his palm, thumb pressing into the crease of my thigh while he got me used to the stretch.

When he finally pulled out, I watched him line up—condom shiny, cock flushed, the rest of him wild and beautiful. He braced one hand on my hip and slid in, a little at a time, stoppingevery few seconds to let me breathe and let the stretch go from impossible to perfect.

I dragged my knees higher, tilting my hips up, and he slid the rest of the way in, bottoming out with a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

"Okay?"

I nodded. He pulled back, slow, and then snapped his hips forward, knocking the breath out of me. My head slammed against the pillow. I started laughing and couldn't stop.

He started laughing, too, but didn't let up in his rhythm. "That's right. Let it all out, Carter. You're in good hands."