Pucked Off (The Pucked Series)(7)

By: Helena Hunting

“How do you know? You ever tried?”

“Well, no, but—”

I’m still fingering the strap of Mindy’s top while I close-talk Barbie, so she can’t be that opposed to the idea.

“But what? You should kiss her; see if you like it.”

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be fucking with them. These girls aren’t bunnies. They didn’t come to my party looking to ride whoever is willing so they can brag about it in their online bunny groups.

These two girls are just on the receiving end of my bad place. I’m feeling messed up, so I’m inclined to do things that aren’t very nice. Sometimes I’m fascinated by the things people will do just to say they’ve been fucked by someone with a little fame.

Barbie turns to her friend and whispers something. I watch Mindy’s eyes widen as she looks between the two of us. She hesitates for a moment before leaning in closer to Barbie, putting a hand on her shoulder. She kisses her quickly on the lips.

I laugh. “Not like that.” I lean in, like I’m going for Barbie, but instead I reach past her for Mindy, the uncertain one. I caress her cheek. When she doesn’t flinch away, I palm the back of her neck and pull her forward so we meet across the corner of the table with Barbie between us. “Like this.”

Touching my lips to hers, I wait for hers to part. When they do, I slip my tongue inside. She tastes like whiskey and vaguely some guy’s aftershave. I don’t have a chance to ask about the source of that.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A loud male voice stops the party.

Mindy shoves away from me, her eyes wide with panic as we turn and come face to face with a human tank.

“Kevin? What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he snaps and turns his angry gaze on me.

I’m a big guy. Pushing six four, I weigh in at two twenty on a light day. This guy has got to be two fifty, and he’s probably the same height as me. Based on how flat his nose is, I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s been broken a few times.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” The tank grabs Mindy by the arm and yanks her out of her seat. “Fucking whore.”

Now, that unkind name may very well be accurate. I have no idea, but I have never and will never tolerate that kind of shit. Not even when Tash asked to be called names could I ever give in. Also, manhandling a woman in a bar is another thing at the top of my don’t fucking do it list.

“He was just buying us a drink. Isn’t that right?” Barbie says, like that explains what her friend was doing with my tongue in her mouth.

I feel played, which is fitting since my plan was to play these girls. Mindy has a look on her face I know well. I wore it frequently as a kid. The hits I took on the ice were just a warm up for the abuse I’d sustain when I didn’t live up to the expectations set for me at home.

“We have one fucking misunderstanding and you whore yourself out to the first guy who gives you a little attention?” the tank says to Mindy.

His grip on her arm is tight, and she makes a sound that melds pain with fear.

I push up out of my seat, adrenaline rocketing through my veins, burning off enough of the alcohol to give me back my coordination. I step around Barbie, who tries to grab my arm, maybe to stop me, but it’s too late. I need a way to unleash all the blackness Tash has filled me with.

I roll my shoulders. “Get your fucking hands off her.”

“Fuck you and fuck her.” He lets her go, though, which is what I want.

We’ve gained the attention of the bartender and some of the guys in the corner. The bartender calls the tank’s name, but it doesn’t seem to register with him.

This guy is pissed—not just angry, but drunk, drunker than me. His lazy, dark eyes tell me that. I realize now, as I take in the slope of his forehead, that there’s a good chance he’s a juicer and his rage and mine are not going to be quite matched. My red and his are on totally different levels. Still, the hot tingle that runs down my spine fires me right up.

I’m probably not going to come away from this unscathed, and the karma in that makes me happier than it should. I anticipate the first punch and block it with my forearm, feeling the sharp pain that travels all the way to my shoulder and up my neck.