Bed Buddies: Puck Buddies, Book Three Read online

  His words bring more tears, but for good reasons.

  “I love you.” I lay my head back on his chest.

  “I love you too.” He kisses me, holding me. “And no matter what happens, you and Sami are soul mates. She asked you to be her partner because she trusts you, more than anyone in the world.”

  I knew he was right, but the winter had brought so many changes, all at once. I didn't know if I could keep up.

  Chapter 8

  Hiccupping

  July 11, 2015

  Sami

  The fireworks over the ocean are amazing.

  The way they burst and pop, bringing the night’s sky to life, distracts me from the fact Nat is back together with that turd and they’re currently snuggling on the beach two blankets over. I could vomit if not for the fireworks. The entire situation is disgusting.

  I know his dirty secret and yet I haven’t told her. I can’t. She’s so brainwashed by her mom she might not actually believe me. My only saving grace is the job I managed to get her right after Rich told me the horrible news. I’ve played it up like I have no involvement, protesting her leaving me and suggesting she live in the city. It was an easy card to play; her mother forbids anything to do with me, even though she’s almost twenty-three. I have to save her slowly, getting her this job was the first step. It’s in Hartford, hours from William the Douche and far enough away from her mother that she can’t control every step Nat makes. It’s honestly her only hope to escape this Fairfield cult.

  Glancing their way, I shudder from the want to stab him in the face but decide maybe a walk is a better idea. I get up, catching her attention.

  “Where ya going?” She smiles.

  “More booze,” I lie. Not only do I not get my own drinks, but I haven’t been drinking much. Finishing the last two classes of summer school has been kicking my ass. But I need to be a grown-up so they have to get done.

  The sand squishes beneath my toes as I hike up to the house. Paths cut through the bushes along the edge of the beach to the waterfront estates. Mine is wide and boardwalked, of course. Not that my mother has ever taken a stroll down here because she likes the beach. She likes the waterfront view from her patio.

  A dark figure slips from the shadows, making me shout and jump back until I see who it is. “Why are you lurking in the bushes?” I snap at Matt who’s laughing at me.

  “I was walking down when I saw you. I had to. It was too perfect.” He chuckles and comes closer, wrapping me in his strong arms. “I missed you.” He kisses my cheek. We’ve moved along in our “relationship” to heavy pawing without the making out. There’s a lot of hugging and hand holding and back rubbing.

  It’s like being in the eighth grade all over again.

  “Why are you here?” I scowl.

  “What is this?” He pulls back, narrowing his gaze. “What’s happening here? Why are you being hateful instead of showing me some gratitude for coming all the way out here to see you?” He gives me his intense frown, glaring through the bangs hanging in his face.

  “Nat and dipshit.” I point a thumb over my shoulder, sighing a little. “I am glad you came but William-Douchebag-Fairfield is killing my joy.”

  “I have a plan for that.” He swings an arm around my shoulders and steers me back to the beach. He avoids the congested party and strolls to the right, away from the crowds. The fireworks light the path for us as he leads me to a quiet spot.

  The fading gasps and moans of the people watching from in front of my house become the soundtrack to the stroll.

  “Brady’s moving to Hartford.”

  “Random.” I don't know where he’s going with this.

  “We could try to hook them up.” He stops walking in front of my neighbors’ boardwalk, pulling me to him. “Brady would bang her, a lot. She’s his type.”

  “What girl isn’t his type?” I scoff.

  “Yeah, that’s true. But he secretly digs those geeky girls. He tries to fight it with PF’s, but he’s the ultimate sucker for a nice girl next door.”

  “Everyone is.”

  “Not me.” He toys with a grin. “I like my girls complex and kinda mean.” He laughs and pulls me into his embrace.

  “I’m not mean.” It’s a lie neither of us believes.

  “Yes, you are.” He lifts his hands, running his fingers down my cheeks. The fireworks explode in his eyes as he says, “You won’t let me kiss you.”

  “I don't know where those lips have been.”

  “Where do you want them to go?” He cups my face, tilting me up to meet him. His hair hangs down, hiding us from the world. I close my eyes, no longer able to hold off. Months of stolen kisses and dead-end embraces come to an end the moment his lips meet mine.

  It’s slow, taking all my life for him to press his lips on mine. We pause, both scared of where this is going. The fireworks explode behind my eyes when our kiss does too.

  The grip of our fingers on each other suggests the intensity our lips are capable of, but neither of us goes beyond the gentleness of a delicate kiss.

  The crowd behind us shouts, suggesting we missed an amazing burst, but I didn't need to see it. I have my own display.

  The noise stops him. He pulls back with a hungry look on his face. We both know where this is going so I step back. I have to be the one in control.

  “No.” He grabs me, dragging me back and spinning us so I’m the one leaning against the boardwalk railing. He pins me there, pressing himself against me. He traps me with his hands on either side of me, gripping the railing. “I need more.” He confesses breathily as he lowers again, kissing me faster. His tongue seeks out mine, caressing and exploring my mouth.

  I feel like a teenager, making out on the beach while my family is steps away, except of course for the massive erection rubbing against my stomach.

  Other than that, he’s a perfect gentleman. His hands don't roam and his kisses stay on my lips.

  But I want them to.

  I’ve waited months for this to go further.

  I suspect he has too by the way he’s kissing me like I’m the first meal he’s had in a year.

  I pry my lips from his, kissing along his cheek and moving to his ear. I take a breath before whispering my one wish, “Fuck me.”

  Everything changes.

  A switch flicks inside him.

  The permission he’s been waiting for frees him, like a caged beast being let out. He’s too much too fast.

  He drops to his knees while reaching in my skirt and dragging my underwear off in a fluid motion, spreading and licking before I’ve even taken a breath to gasp the moan pouring from me.

  He isn’t there to make me come. He’s there to make sure I can handle him. I’m so turned on I don't even need the foreplay. He gets up, lifting me to the railing and standing between my legs. His eyes land on mine and something changes again. He takes a breath, stepping back. “No.” He doesn't mean it. He wants me. I don't understand.

  My stomach tenses. “What?”

  “No.” A sick grin crosses his lips. “This is the limo all over again. This is going to turn into you feeling disrespected and me being a pervert who can’t control himself. This is a test I’m going to fail if I fuck you against this railing like I desperately want to.”

  “You’re failing right now.” I spread my legs a bit wider, flashing everything.

  His gaze lowers to my inner thighs. He groans, involuntarily touching himself with his thumb over his shorts in a couple of small strokes.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I demand.

  “No. You want me to respect you and love you and cherish you. You want me to be with you romantically. You can’t have it both ways, Sami.”

  “I can have whatever I want.” I close my legs, burning with the fury of the disappointment.

  “No, you can’t.” He backs up more, leaning against the railing opposite me.

  “Fine.” I hop off the railing and saunter to him, grabbing his belt and undoing it.

>   “What are you doing?” He grasps my hands, but I wriggle free and rip his shorts down like he did me, freeing his cock. I grab it with one hand and drop to my knees, taking as much of him in as I can, dragging the spit from my mouth down his shaft to jerk the rest of him.

  Then I lower my other hand to my pussy, fingering as I suck. He doesn't fight. His willpower is gone. His head falls back as his hands grip the railing, offering small thrusts and grunts.

  I moan into his cock, rubbing my clit and savoring the buildup inside me.

  Gripping hard and sliding my hand up and down the shaft, I work a bit of pre-come from him, licking his head and closing my eyes.

  As my own orgasm rolls in, my moans grow louder. I don't even fight the noises coming from me. I hope it’s torturing him that he’s not the one making me sound this way. As the waves crash around us and inside me, I give him one more long suck until I’m done. Breathless and relieved, I stand back up, backing away the way he did.

  “What the fuck?” He looks like he might jump me.

  “You started it. Just remember that.” I turn to walk down the beach, but he grabs me, dragging me up the beach into my neighbors’ yard as he does his pants up one handed.

  “Matt!” I laugh and shout, trying to pull from his grip but he’s gone beast mode.

  Fortunately, my neighbors aren’t home, because he cuts straight across their lawn and through the beach grass to my house. He doesn't say a single word to me, but hauls me in the front door. Our butler jumps up from his seat, looking confused but Matt doesn't speak. He pulls me up the stairs, pausing and looking left and right at the wings on either side of the grand staircase. He goes right, the wrong way.

  “It’s this way.” I jerk hard, trying to bring him back to a rational place.

  He pauses, listening and turning, still dragging me down the hall. It’s like dealing with an animal.

  The staff is below giving me a worried look so I laugh, acting like drunk and crazy Sami. It’s my go to.

  When we get to my room he grabs the doors to slam them but I stop him, clutching his hand, trying to calm him down. He’s not angry, he’s determined. I pry his fingers from the wood doors and close them softly, locking them. Taking a breath, I stay there, holding the handles, not facing him or what’s about to happen.

  He attacks, lifting my skirt to grope my ass as his whiskers brush against my nape and shoulders. My shirt is dragged down, stretched the wrong way, but the feel of him against me takes away the care I might have had for it. He strips me bare, still pressing his clothed body against me, kissing and caressing. He reaches around, cupping my breasts, massaging and almost weighing them in his huge hands.

  I close my eyes and lean against the door, allowing for the inspection and worship of my flesh.

  “Say it again,” he whispers in my ear.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I mutter, breathlessly lost in the heat.

  He scoops me up, carrying me to the bed. He lays me down and rips his clothes off violently. He grabs my ankles and moves me to the edge of the bed, running his hands up and down my body, spreading me open wide for him. We both glance down as he runs the head of his cock in the moisture made by all this fucking around. He doesn't give me the usual slow entrance. He pushes in, forcing us both to grunt. He’s too big to do that so the first thrust makes my eyes widen in shock, but he’s past the point of caring. He’s desperate. And once he’s inside he fucks me hard, dragging my ass back to him so he can get all of his cock in.

  He holds my legs hostage, lifting my ass off the bed ever so slightly to be able to hammer me. He doesn't care about pacing or how it feels for me, I can tell. He’s normally slower but he’s gone a bit crazy. He grunts, using me to work his cock, fucking me for his pleasure. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back, slamming into me a couple of last times before he floods me with his orgasm. He jerks and grimaces several times before stopping. His chest is beaded and rising and falling rapidly. When he lowers his head, his whiskers and hanging hair give his already intense eyes a dark look. It softens after a second, like a shark losing his frenzy.

  I pull him down to me, leading him onto the bed to cuddle me.

  He wraps around me, pulling me into his embrace. “That’s not really how I wanted that to happen,” he finally speaks.

  “Me either. But it was hot.”

  “I missed you.” He kisses my neck and shoulder. We’re a mess. Sweat, sand, semen, and everything else in between, coats us both. After briefly enduring the mess, I get up, dragging him by the hand to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and pull him inside. He holds me to him, stealing the hot water.

  “We could make them roommates,” I mutter after a moment.

  “What?”

  “Brady and Nat. We could recommend them to each other. Brady could be your cousin, a girl hockey player named BJ, and she could be my nerdy computer-geek friend, Nat. He always signs his name BJ or B. He never writes Brady. And she’s always Nat. They’d never know.”

  “Is that seriously what you’re thinking about right now?” He looks hurt.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sami, we just had sex for the first time in a very long time. We broke your rules. We need to discuss this.” He sounds pissed off.

  “No. I don't want to discuss this. I want to pretend this didn't happen. It was a hiccup.”

  “A hiccup?” He raises his eyebrow, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip. “I want to keep hiccupping then.”

  “We’ll see.” I grin.

  “Yes, we will.” He gets that cocky smirk, the one that tells me this isn’t over.

  I’m glad. I don't want it to be over. If this is the game, make each other desperate for the other person, then I’m all for it.

  Chapter 9

  The proposal

  February 20, 2016

  Natalie

  Jane, my boss, offers me a sly smile as I haul the box out of the office. “How’s Brady with this?”

  “Excited. He’s almost never home, so me working from home means I’ll be there when he is. All the hockey and trips home to see the new baby nephew are intense when you add in my work day too.”

  “Hockey schedules are rough. My nephew played for a long time and my poor sister was on the road constantly.”

  “Yeah, I don't do road trips. I watch from my living room.” I laugh. “With Sami screaming at the TV.”

  “She doesn't seem the type.” Jane laughs too.

  “She’s awful. In the rink, watching live, she’s right in there with all the other New Yorkers.”

  “Well, at least she has you to calm her down.” She sighs. “So we are all set up then, on the laptop?”

  “Yeah, I shouldn't have a single issue working from home. In fact, my computer is better than the one I work on here.”

  “I can’t believe you've been here months and you’re already leaving us.” She doesn't keep her disappointment contained very well.

  “It’s not like real leaving though. Being freelance will make it easier to work for Sami.”

  “With,” Jane corrects. “She asked you to be her partner. And I dare say, she’s a lucky girl to have you as a partner. You’re by far my favorite designer.” She lowers her voice, “But I never said that.” She offers an awkward hug, something pencil-skirt wearing professionals don't really do.

  “Thanks, Jane. And thanks for understanding.”

  “Nothing to understand. You’re going to do the same job but from home. Simple.” She walks me to the elevator. “Just make sure we have the schedules updated constantly, in case you get behind initially with the new project.”

  “I won’t get behind.” I don't tell her that designing covers is simple for me and this is honestly the easiest job in the world.

  “See you soon.” She waves as I step onto the elevator, nervous and excited for the changes coming down the line.

  Working for—with—Sami is going to be easy as well. With Brady’s schedule I can get my work done while he’s away.
I might just have to cut back on the amount of games I watch.

  Vincenzo is waiting when I get downstairs. He grins wide as he gets the door for me and takes the box in my hands. “Miss Natalie.”

  “Thanks, Vincenzo.”

  Sami squeals when I climb in. “I’m so glad you said yes.” She’s beaming. “I’m scared of this meeting so I’m glad you’re with me.” She grips my cold fingers.

  Vincenzo drives us to Sami’s building but we don't go to the penthouse. Instead, we stop on the fifth floor where the Fords’ entire financial department is.

  Sami holds my hand until we enter the glass doors. She ignores the secretary, who I smile at, and clicks along the marble floor to the main boardroom. Her dad’s sitting and waiting for us. He looks confused, completely.

  The CFO is also here. He doesn't appear to be as lost. His grin suggests he might have an idea of what is going on. More than likely he has been the one helping Sami.

  Mr. Ford stands, giving us both a hug. “I have to say, I was surprised when I got the call about the meeting, girls.”

  “I know, Daddy, but I needed to make sure I had a sound plan before I approached you. I want you to take this very seriously.” Sami hugs Wellsman, the CFO, and sits across from her father. I sit next to her, a bit scared of being in the room at all.

  “Well, I am all ears. Is this for a charity or something?”

  “No.” She smiles wide and opens her portfolio, lifting out four copies of the business proposal she created, and slides each of us a copy.

  “Oh.” Her dad’s jaw drops. He glances at us both. He’s scared.

  “When you started the whole brand promotion thing, making money off my image, I thought it was lame. Like totally lame. And deceptive. I mean, I never even used those products. But I’ve had a slight change of heart. Not to continue the phony brand placement and promotion, but to be me.” She stands up, clicking a button on the remote in her hand to close the blinds around the entire room, sealing us off from the outside and the prying eyes of the office. She clicks another button and starts the Power Point, flashing images of Martha Stewart over the years. “I really had to ask myself lately, who is Sami Ford? What does she like? What does she hate? And how can she use her image and brand to create an honest income?” She glances at her dad. “No offence, but I don't want to be the trust fund girl who sponges off her parents, and I don't want to work here in some fake position you create to launder money to me at a discounted tax rate for yourself.”