Pucked Up(7)

By: Helena Hunting


I still don’t answer. There’s whispering and giggling on the other side, followed by the sound of the doorknob turning. It’s unlocked. I’m out of bed in a flash, slamming my shoulder into the door to hold it closed. I’m naked. With morning wood. And my head hurts like hell.

I slide to the floor, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. “I’m up. I’ll be down in, like, ten.”

More giggling follows and then the patter of feet as they move on down the hall, yelling, “He says he’s up!”

I’m still sitting on the floor with my head in my hands several minutes later when Randy comes knocking. “If you’re not down there in eight minutes, Natasha’s gonna make you do suicides.”

“I’d like to see her try.”

Natasha’s been my trainer since I was traded from Miami to Chicago. She’s tough, but awesome. Sometimes I hate her for it. The threats are enough to make me pick my ass up off the floor. I flip the lock, though, in case someone else decides they want to barge into my room.

I check the nightstand for my cell, but it’s not there. It’s not on the floor either, so I sweep my hand across the comforter to see if I accidentally brought it to bed with me. I find it under the pillow. I take it to the bathroom with me, pushing the button so I can key in my password and check my messages, but the screen stays blank. My battery must have died. I set it on the back of the toilet and flip up the seat. I’m hard, so it’s almost impossible to pee.

If my phone wasn’t dead, I’d pull up a picture of Sunny and take care of my problem like that. Instead, I have to use my imagination. This morning sucks worse than usual. Since I haven’t seen her naked yet, I have to cobble together images of her mostly naked in her bikini and imagine what her bare tits would look like. Eventually I give up and grab one of the trashy magazines from the rack on the floor and flip it open. It lands on a hot blonde with fake boobs. It’ll do.

When I’m about to blow, I brace my hand on the wall and let my shins rest against the toilet seat. My knees buckle at the end, and my aim is off, so I hit the back of the toilet lid. The whole unit shakes with my weight, and my phone shifts forward.

I’m too slow to catch it. It bounces off the seat, and instead of landing on the floor, it falls straight into the bowl.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I reach in and grab it, not caring that I’m sticking my hand in toilet water and my own jizz. Shaking it off, I grab the closest towel and wipe it clean. The battery’s already dead, so I have no idea if I’ve ruined it or not.

And of course, that’s when there’s another goddamn knock on my door. I stalk my way across the room, holding the potentially ruined phone in a hand towel. I throw open the door.

“Dude, are you—” Randy stops mid-sentence.

There’s a girl behind him. She looks vaguely familiar. She’s sporting last night’s makeup and wearing Randy’s too-big shirt, and possibly nothing else. Her eyes drop below my waist.

“Oh my God!”

I’m naked and still half-hard after the whack-off session. I cover my junk with the hand towel. Randy puts a hand up to cover her eyes. She tries to pry it away, but Randy has huge hands, and he’s way stronger than she is, even if he is hungover as shit.

She points in my direction even though she can’t see me. “You have something on your—”

“Baby, why don’t you go downstairs and see what the girls are doing?”

“But—”

“I got it covered.” He whispers something in her ear. One of his hands slips under the shirt. I look away, because I don’t want to see as much of her as she’s seen of me.

She laughs and takes off down the hall, yelling, “I saw Buck’s dick, and it’s huge!”

“Seriously, man?” Like I need this shit.

“You’re the one answering your door like this.” He motions to my lack of clothing. “The world isn’t your locker room, Miller.”

“My fucking phone fell in the toilet!” I hold out the hand towel with my phone still wrapped in it.

“Facebooking on the shitter again?”

“Laugh it up, asshole. All my contacts are in there.”

“Does it work?”

“The battery died, so I have no idea.” He throws me a pair of swim shorts.

“Put these on and bring it downstairs. I’ll get a bag of rice.”

“What the hell’s rice gonna do for my phone?”

“Calm your tits, dude. It’s supposed to dry it out or something. We’ll charge it and put it in rice. Hopefully it’ll be working in a couple of hours.”

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