Page 60 of Secret Puck
I place my hands on her head, running my fingers through her hair. Gently, I guide the tempo, but I let her decide how much to take. I’m a big guy — no one has dared to deep throat me before, and she’s the last person I expected to try.
I’m getting dangerously close with each swirl of her tongue and hollowing of her cheeks. I hold her hair back from her face like a ponytail. One blonde strand hangs in her eyes, the ends brushing my stomach as she bobs.
“I’m close,” I warn her. “I think there are some napkins in the glove box.” Unless her hearing is broken or she’s in some sort of blow job focused trance, she hears me, but she doesn’t stop until I’ve come in her pretty mouth.
I lean my head back against the leather. My whole body is trembling. “That was… holy shit.”
She laughs. “And I thought the way to your heart was through your stomach.”
“Only one thing I enjoy more than food, baby.”
Fifteen minutes later, after returning the favor, we head back into The Hideout. She runs a hand over her hair and then her mouth.
“Relax, you look gorgeous.”
“I should probably go in first.” She takes out her phone. “I’ll pretend like I was on my phone.”
As she pushes through the door holding her phone up to her ear like she’s on a call, mine buzzes in my pocket.
“Hey, I’m just walking into dinner,” I say, taking a step away from the door.
“Hello, Mom. How are you?” she mocks and then chuckles, and that light sound makes me smile.
“Sorry. Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“Well, I’m good now that I finally hear your voice.”
“Sorry,” I say again. Not just for being a dick with how I answered, but for not calling her sooner.
“Can I assume no news is good news?”
“Yeah, everything’s good. How are you? How’s Kevin?”
“I’m good. Kevin’s good too. He’s actually why I’m calling.”
My brows draw together. Oh shit, if she’s calling to tell me she’s getting remarried or some shit, it’s going to be a real bummer to my night. I want her to be happy, but… “He is?”
“I was talking about coming down for your home games next weekend, and he offered to come with me.”
I’m speechless, letting the information sink in. My mom hasn’t been to a game since before Dad died. I stopped asking years ago. Now she’s coming willingly and bringing the guy she’s seeing?
“Heath? Are you there?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Well, what do you think? I know I haven’t—”
“Sounds great,” I interrupt before she can finish that statement. “Can I text you later to hash out the details? I’m with some friends.”
“Of course. Have fun and be safe.”
“I will.”
“Love you, honey.”
I click end and blow out a breath as I head inside.
21
