Puck and Prejudice

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lizzy didn’t have time for a single coherent thought before Tuck had fisted off his shirt and kicked his pants from the bed.

Where should she look first? The wall of shoulders? The narrow waist? Each of his muscles begged for independent research.

He was exposed in all his brutal beauty, unselfconscious as she finally dared to stare at his thick length. When she heard

him swallow, a strange, primal hunger caught her off guard with its intensity.

“I don’t have condoms—any protection—but I can’t get you pregnant,” he said.

The reality of what they were about to do settled in, a tingly anticipation that made her thighs twitch. “You shared that

information before... because of the medicine you took during your illness.”

“That’s right.” He gripped his hand over his shaft and stroked it a few times, root to tip.

The movement was hypnotic.

“May I try? I want to see how you feel.”

He took her hand and placed it on his shaft. “Yeah. Grip firmly and jerk it like I was doing.”

“Am I doing it right?”

“If you did any better, I’d be fucked before we fucked,” he muttered, his eyes half-closed. After another minute he took her wrist and stilled her rhythm.

“I’m going inside of you now, okay? I’ll take it slow, but it will feel better when we start moving together.”

“Yes.” She licked her lips as he crawled over her, nudging his shaft between her legs.

He pressed his lips against her ear. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Her eyes flew open. The stretch was so different from his fingers. It was far thicker, a burning pressure that rose

deep, deep, good God, so deep, within her core. And then he was closer than he’d ever been, hip bones flush with hers.

“You okay?” he ground out.

She sucked in a breath, struggling to locate the right words. For she was still herself but not. Her body had always been

her body, the lines of Lizzy Wooddash were a clear border, a personal country—but Tuck was here now too. And not just inside

her body, but also her heart. He was everywhere and yet she didn’t have a need to push him off; if anything, she wanted...

“Go on, then.” The words exhaled out of her.

Tuck’s shoulders shook with his surprised chuckle even as he obeyed. His movements were gentle, small pulses. As she acclimated,

taking his advice and rocking back in reply, their bodies engaged in a slow, languid dance. Unexpected.

She’d expected a claiming—a man coming to conquer. But as Tuck loosened the tension in her body, she marveled at how she could

hold him so completely, her muscles snug and tight. She would be happy to remain this close forever. He followed her lead,

adjusting his rhythm to hers. Lifting her head, she captured his mouth as they increased their speed. He drank in her breathless,

soft sounds and slid a hand between them, moving with expert fingers.

It didn’t last long after that. She couldn’t think. Her mind wasn’t capable of holding this much feeling, her blood ran thick as honey, and a trickle of perspiration streamed down her breast. How was this intensifying? How was he everywhere?

A whimper escaped as he pressed his thumb on her bud. He muttered a litany of filthy, lovely words and an edge appeared, fracturing

her mind. The full, anchored sensation was replaced by a vast open space before the world contracted into a point of pure

pleasure.

“Tuck!” His name broke through her lips in a thick sob, and then she lost the power of speech, only managing an exultant moan.

He bucked, and wherever she was, he was there too.

Her name was a roar on his lips. She gripped his muscles and gave him everything.

When she regained her senses, he was lying on his back, holding her to his chest.

She lifted a hand and covered his heart, letting it thunder under her palm.

“That was a surprise.” She licked her lips. “I didn’t ever imagine it would be like that.”

His chuckle was thick. “Baby. It’s never like that.”

“What do you mean?” She raised her head. “I didn’t do something wrong, did I? I wasn’t sure what to—”

“It was extraordinary.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead. “What I’m saying is it’s never that good—that was next

level.”

“What’s the level after that?” She propped herself up, hand on chin.

“I’m not following.”

“If you say there is a next level, there must be a level after that and one after that, correct? And if this was our first time together, I presume we should be able to go even higher, would we not? Should we try again and see?”

“Right now?”

“I don’t have any other pressing engagements on my social calendar today, do you?”

He sputtered a moment before chuckling, warm and lazy. “Beautiful monster, you might honestly kill me.”

“All part of my grand widow’s plan,” she murmured.

“Evil woman.” He threw a forearm over his eyes and yawned.

She took the opportunity to admire this big naked male, sprawled out for her discovery. His shaft was still half hard, and

she had to admit it looked far more appealing in person than in the sketches from her book. Perhaps because it was Tuck and

every part of him felt precious to her. His stomach was smooth but for a trail of hair extending from his navel. A few ridges

of muscles rippling. There was a wicked ancient scar on his knuckle, nearly white against his tanned skin.

“What’s this from?” she asked, tracing her finger over it. “I’ve been curious.”

He grunted. “When I was a kid, my dad used to make a rink for me in our backyard. He’d build a border and then set in a liner.

After that it was just a matter of using a hose to fill it with water—that’s like a long, flexible tube that carries water

from one location to another, for gardens, to water plants and stuff like that.”

“Much more convenient than buckets.”

“Very.” His lips quirked. “So, he’d fill the rink with water once it was cold enough and it would freeze. Then he’d smooth it all out. It was funny, though, he never wanted my help even though it was for me. He’d say I’d mess it up. He’s like that—we call it being a control freak. But once it was ready, he ordered me out there to practice all the time. And if he wasn’t at work he’d come out and shoot with me. He used to play hockey too, back in the day—never professionally, but it was a thing for him. But eventually, I don’t know, I got better, I surpassed his abilities. I could block all of his shots.

“One time there was a big storm. He told me to get on my gear and go outside and I didn’t want to. I was playing a game or

something. I just didn’t want to freeze my ass off. But he made me, and this isn’t a guy you say no to easily.

“We were out there. The wind was howling. It’s cold as hell. And he’s shooting at me, and I can catch whatever he dishes out;

it wasn’t a challenge anymore. And finally, I yelled, ‘What’s the point? You’re not that good, so can we go in now?’

“I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that, but I was freezing. I threw off my gloves and I announced he could stay but I wasn’t.

I wasn’t ready when he shot—the puck flew at me and I didn’t want to break my hand, so I hit the deck and it missed me. He

skated up and skidded to a halt, his blade sliced my hand, and then he told me to put away the equipment before going inside.

That’s the last time we played together.” He paused. “I remember how much blood was on the ice.”

She had half a mind to crawl through time and find this horrible man. “If I ever saw your father, I’d not be held responsible

for my actions.”

“If it was just me, I could have taken it. But he and my mom—what they did to my sister. Well, we don’t talk much these days.

But you don’t want all my sad stories.”

“Untrue.” She lightly pinched one of his nipples and he jerked. “I want to know all the parts of you.”

“My sister likes women. They don’t approve.”

Lizzy frowned. “They’d prefer she be a woman who doesn’t like women? That makes no sense.”

“I mean she likes them romantically—and exclusively.”

“Oh. I see.” Awareness dawned. “Like Georgie.”

Tuck raised his brows. “Yeah. Like that, I guess. My parents believe it’s morally wrong, and so they don’t talk to her now

unless it’s strictly necessary. It’s hard on Nora. She used to be close to my mom—and now there’s just this gulf. But she

can’t change who she is to make them happy. That’s not love. So she decided to study far away.”

“I hope your sister finds her happiness.”

“Me too. I want that so much.”

“And I hope your father stubs his toe and that his toast is always cold.”

“Get over here.” Tuck’s voice was deep with amusement. He hauled her onto him so she straddled his waist.

“What did I do to deserve you, huh?”

“Something that pleased the fates.” She glanced down. “It’s growing hard again.”

“You have that power over me.”

“Like a witch.” She waved her hands as if casting a spell.

“More like an enchantress.” He braced her hips between his hands. “This time you could take the reins.”

She glanced down. “Me?”

“I remember some big talk last night in the carriage. What was all that about wanting to ride St.George’s dragon?”

She covered her face. “Oh my goodness. I’d hoped that was a dream.”

“It’s definitely one of mine, sweetheart.”

Perhaps it was too much. Maybe she was too greedy. It was entirely possible that she wanted more than the world would ever see fit to give her. But that didn’t mean she’d stop asking. She eased herself over him, his tip at her cleft. She was still so ready that she took him again easily, her body hungry.

“And now I ride you?”

“Sure, baby.” He made a low growl of appreciation. “Let yourself go.”

She made an extremely slow hip circle and that was good. Her nipples hardened. Bending forward, she arched and increased the

pressure, bringing herself right over his pelvic bone, right at the spot that had felt so good before. She kept the angle

to maintain the contact.

“You’re beautiful.” He never took his gaze from her, the strain evident in his clenched jaw. His eye contact was fierce, lethal

almost, and yet she knew she had the lead now. He’d handed her the power and the fact made the muscles coil low in her belly.

“I’m close. So close.”

He went taut. “Together. We go together.”

He took her hands and laced his fingers with hers, and as she writhed, her body quaking, he flowed into her. The only sounds

in the world were his rasping grunts and the wet sounds of their bodies meeting as she rode through the last of her pleasure.

She melted into him, exhausted but beyond blissful. As they lay together, their hearts an echo of the other, it seemed impossible

that this connection—more real than any she’d ever known—could eventually become a bittersweet memory. Would this moment resonate

through the ages, or become another forgotten tale?