Fired: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (Cooking up a Celebrity Book 3) by Hadley Harlin

Author:Hadley Harlin [Harlin, Hadley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henwin Press LTD
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Lena

I was touched with Puck’s willingness to open up and let me in for once. Clearly, there was more to uncover, but I didn’t want to rush him. Finally, I began to understand why he never settled down, didn’t like dogs, and knew so much about kids’ shows. He volunteered with them every week. And we had no idea. Not one person at Sassafras had bothered to learn what was beneath the wild exterior. We thought he had as much depth as a puddle, but there was so much more. An entire world shimmered beneath the surface.

I filled in the gaps, starting to understand his demeanor. He liked to make people laugh. It crowded out his voids. Being the class—or restaurant—clown allowed him to mask his own emotions and feelings.

Instead of rushing him, we went home and made hot chocolate and whipped cream and snuggled next to the fireplace in my apartment. Puck only allowed freshly whipped cream and hot chocolate in the French style, so thick, it was like drinking hot pudding.

I took the whisk and licked it, loving how Puck’s eyes dilated, so I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. With a finger, I dragged a trail of cream between my breasts and licked the remaining sweetness in one swirl.

When I looked up from under my lashes, Puck was already moving across the kitchen, flipping over chairs to get to me. He sank to his knees and licked the cream all the way up to my neck before jerking me down to the faux, white bearskin rug. It was silky against my bare back and felt as lush as any movie.

Puck unhooked my bra and put dollops on my nipples. I jerked at the cold sensation until he licked them warm and clean. All my blood went rushing to my pussy. It expanded, engorged with heat and want.

With a wiggle, I yanked off his pants and quickly dropped his briefs. He came to kiss me, again, but I held him at arm’s length, taking in the beautiful sight of his long, thick cock standing at attention like a toy soldier, wanting me.

I ached all over, needing him.

Puck clearly felt the same way. He pushed down my arms and laid me back on the rug. We were going to fuck on a bearskin rug. A fake one, so call me a sentimental environmentalist.

He kissed every inch of me, licking my pussy dry, which only made me more wet and needy for him.

Suddenly, he pulled away.

I tried kissing him again. “Don’t stop, you feel so good.”

“I don’t have a condom,” Puck said through heavy breaths.

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, looking at my pussy longingly. Like he would never feel me again. Which was absurd. We could stop. We were adults.

“I could run to the drugstore down the street,” he ventured.

Clearly, I wasn’t thinking. At least, not about things other than his delicious cock grazing my folds and begging to be let in. Or the feel of fucking me on a rug in front of a roaring fire.

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