Page 5 of Pucked Up

“For the moment. And if you’re going to wreck my asshole once we step inside,” he said in polite, pointed French, “you have to let me do this.”

Well, fuck. It wasn’t like I could argue against that. I sighed, then stepped over the threshold. I tried to be as graceful as I could, but the universe had been out to get me since I was born. It wasn’t going to let me have this moment.

The edge of my shoe caught on the metal lip, and I lurched forward. Closing my eyes, I stiffened my upper body, bracing for the fall, but I didn’t hit the floor. Instead, arms came around me, tightening almost painfully, but it wasn’t as bad as if I’d crashed to the ground.

“You’d think the accessible entrance would have less fall risk,” he muttered against the back of my ear as he hauled me upright.

I swallowed heavily. His body was warm, andfirm, and so much larger than mine. That wasn’t uncommon, of course, but with him, it felt different. He would have dwarfed Tucker even with his tallest legs on.

I let myself have the moment. I leaned back into him, closing my eyes, basking in the feeling of being held. His arms tightened a fraction and then a little more. Then his lips moved against the back of my ear.

He wasn’t speaking though. No, he was tasting. He kissed the skin just behind my hearing aid—the spot where no hair grew. Then he trailed his mouth to the top of my shoulder.

I shivered, then pulled away, pushing my crutch tips into the threadbare carpet. “Do you want to see the room?” My voice cracked. Fuck, that was humiliating.

Jean-Luc chuckled and gave me the smallest shove forward. “Lead the way.”

Squaring my shoulders, I put every ounce of concentration on my legs. They’d never walk straight, but they would get me where I needed to go—and right now, that was six doors down and on the left.

I counted as we passed each one, the clink of the metal crutches almost overwhelming in the silent hallway. With my hearing aids on at full volume, I could hear my breathing—labored the way it always was. And then his—steady and soft. What would it feel like against my skin? As good as it had felt against my ear?

Better?

My throat was a little tight, and I fought the urge to clear it as we finally reached one-eleven. My fingers were trembling as I held the key out, and I couldn’t bring myself to protest when he plucked it out of my hand and tapped it against the door.

It unlocked with a click so loud I felt it in my chest. Then he opened the door and held it so I could walk in.

This time, my shoes shifted from carpet to hardwood without a problem. The thud of my feet was even louder than the lock, but I took two steps forward. Then another two.

And then the door shut behind me with a firm, heavy thud. I froze. I was never like this. I never let a hookup get the best of me. So why him? What was it about this man that had me literally shaking at the knees?

“I want to get you on the bed,” his voice rumbled. He pressed himself against my back, wrapping his arm around my waist. He was a steady ballast, and for a moment, I didn’t know if I wanted to agree with him or argue back. He chuckled after a second. “I can see the fight in you, petit feu.”

Little fire.

Why did that name make me shiver? My mouth went dry, and I attempted to swallow but failed miserably. My tongue didn’t always cooperate with me on an average day, but it felt ten times worse now. Every part of my body was a fucking traitor, abandoning my brain to slut itself for this man.

And God, I wanted him to touch me.

“Come with me,” he murmured. He pushed until I took a step. Then another. Then another. “There we go.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughed and nuzzled against the side of my neck. It took every ounce of self-control not to moan for him. “What are your rules, petit feu?”

Fuckhim for calling me that again. “It was on the card, if you can read?—”

“Yes, yes. No names, no details, plenty of condoms. But what else?”

“What do you mean?”

His fingertips touched the sides of my neck, then trailed down my arms, stopping at my wrists. “May I?”

It took me a second to realize what he was asking. It was for a level of trust I gave to almost no one. And yet, in spite of myself, I nodded. He gently pried my fingers off the crutch handles, setting them against the nightstand. One arm slid back around my waist, his other manipulating my body until I was turned to face him.

His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, his lips lush and begging to be kissed. It took me a moment to catch my breath as he stared at me. His gaze was completely unrepentant, and even fully clothed, I felt naked.

“Like what you see?”

---