Silver Bastard(53)

Eventually I pulled my mouth free, dragging it back down to her tits, sucking them in hard, desperate to taste more of her.

“Puck,” she said again, her voice full of need and surrender. I ignored her, reaching down between us, finding the top of her pants and pushing them down. Oh fuck, she was wet. My fingers slid in, opening her fast and hard. Becca shrieked, her back arching up and off the couch. My thumb found her clit and started playing with it as her hands fought for freedom.

Sweet Jesus.

So wet, so deep, so amazing . . . I couldn’t wait to get inside. Ladies first and all that shit, so I kept my fingers moving when Becca gasped and called out my name again. We moved fast—probably too fast—but the thought of slowing down was beyond my ability to comprehend. She cried out, whimpering.

Close. So fucking close.

She’d come soon. Then it’d be my turn and fuck if I could imagine anything on earth I’d ever wanted more. Becca exploded around my hand, pulsing and shuddering, clutching my fingers hard enough to remind me just how tight she’d been around my cock.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as she came back down. “Holy shit. Puck, what the hell was that? What was that?”

“You know damned well what it was,” I told her roughly, reaching down to unzip my pants. Condom. Needed a condom. Fuck, I didn’t have my wallet with me, it was back at my apartment. Okay, two options. I could go grab it or see if she had one . . . Both bad choices. Very bad choices. If I left, she might get away. And no fucking way I wanted to know if she had condoms.

That’s when the phone rang.

“Mom,” Becca said, her eyes growing wide. Damn. I might be fucked up, but even I knew that girls shouldn’t say “Mom” right after they come.

It’s like a rule.

The phone rang again. Becca pushed against my chest urgently.

“I have to get that,” she muttered, eyes wide. I stayed put, wondering how the hell we’d gone from her screaming my name to talking about her mother. “She’s been trying to get hold of me. Something’s really wrong.”

The phone kept ringing as it sank in. Becca had every intention of not finishing what we’d started. My cock throbbed, balls tight, and suddenly I was not a happy camper.

“Call her back,” I growled. Becca punched my chest, face growing angry.

“Get the fuck off me. I need to get the phone. Now.”



BECCA

Puck stared down at me, his eyes dark and his breath coming hard. I felt how much he wanted me—no way I could miss that dick of his shoved up between my legs—and I remembered exactly how it’d felt deep inside my body.

Beautiful. Painful. Terrifying.

The phone rang again.

“I have to answer,” I whispered. “It’s important.”

He growled at me and then rolled off, the sudden absence of his heat and weight painful. I jumped up and ran for the phone just as the answering machine kicked in. Mom’s voice filled the air.

“Becca, where the hell are you?” she asked, her voice breathless. “You said to call you at home. I really need to talk to you, baby.”

I caught the handset and hit the button before she could say any more. Behind me I sensed Puck radiating hostility and frustration. Nothing I could do about him right now, so I focused on the phone.

“Mom, I’m here.”

“Becca!” she replied, her voice full of relief. “I’m so glad you answered. Honey, I have to make this fast. Teeny is downstairs and he’s drunk again. I think he’s going to hurt me if I stay here. I need you to send me money so I can get away.”

Her words slammed into me, shattering my emotions along different, conflicting trajectories. Fear, of course. And anger. Toward Teeny . . . toward her, because something about this sounded off, despite all my hopes. With Mom it always came back to money. Why would this time be any different?

“Mom, I don’t have any extra money,” I said quietly. Behind me I heard Puck still, then he muttered something. Sticking a finger in my ear, I focused on my mother, ignoring him.

“Baby, I get that you aren’t rolling in it,” she said. “But this is for real. This isn’t a late phone bill or the electricity or even a fucking car payment. That man is off his rocker and he says he’s going to kill me. I need to get away, and I need to get away soon. You have to send me money right now.”

Her words chilled me. Kill her?

“How much?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

I froze.

“Mom, I don’t have that much.”

“You’ve got a car, right?”

“Not one that’s worth two grand,” I said bluntly. “I could sell everything I own and not have that much.”