Home > Puck Boy

Puck Boy
Author: Hannah Gray





I looked in the mirror at my tear-streaked face. No matter how many times I wiped my eyes, the tears just kept coming. Like a river after a rainstorm, rushing furiously with no sign of slowing. In just a few minutes, I was going to break my parents’ hearts.

My heart ached, just like it had ever since I had peed on that stick. Since I had seen those two faint, life-changing lines. As a kid in high school, those lines were not my friends. Those lines … well, they were going to change the course of my life—forever. And those same godforsaken, eye-opening damn lines were about to rip my parents’ hearts into pieces. Since I’d been old enough to understand how reproduction worked, they had drilled safe sex into my head. At least, I’d thought they had. But life had gotten busy between school and work. And who actually knew missing those few pills would lead to this?

I couldn’t stop all the questions in my head from brewing. Will I ever reach my goals? What dreams am I allowed to have now? How the hell am I supposed to raise a kid when I am a kid?

And then there was that perfect picture I’d had in my head for so many years. One that involved me as a wife, madly in love with my husband when we brought children into this world. I’d probably drive a minivan, but it would be a cool one. And I’d be settled. I’d be prepared. But then life laughed in my face, changing that plan on a dime. And I was suddenly alone. And the reality was, that perfect picture I had painted … wasn’t my story anymore. I didn’t know what was.

With a last-ditch effort to wipe my eyes, I let out a long sigh and straightened my back, sitting up taller.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered to myself as my lip trembled. “They love me. They will always love me. Even if they act like they don’t after this. Whatever they say, they won’t mean it.”

Resting a hand over my stomach, I looked down. “I don’t feel connected with you yet. In fact, I resent your tiny existence right now. I hope you understand. I hope, one day, you’ll forgive me for having these thoughts. It’s not you, baby. It’s me. I’m scared. I’m not ready for this.” More tears fell. “I’m not ready for you.”


I remember that feeling of helplessness. And defeat. Like my entire life was ending before it barely even began. I was angry with myself. I was angry with the boy who had put me in this position. But mostly … I was angry with the tiny bean sprouting in my uterus. Even if I was aware it wasn’t their fault.

Thinking back to that moment, a moment where all seemed lost, I cringe. Because now, I know my life wasn’t ending.

It was beginning.

And even though I thought I’d never get the happily ever after I wanted, I was wrong. Because what I end up getting at the end of this story means much, much more.







“What’d you say your name was, sweetheart?” I mumble, peeling the black shirt over her head, not missing how her arms wrap around her body in an attempt to cover herself.

Golden-blonde curls fall down her back, making me eager to give them a tug. This chick is gorgeous, and her body is rocking.

“Not that it matters,” she says, breathing the words out before returning her lips to mine, “but it’s Addison.”

“Addison—that’s pretty,” I say, thinking out loud. “I know a town named Addison. Are you named after a town?”

“No.” She attempts to pull my mouth to hers again before she unbuttons her jeans.

“This town is about an hour from where I grew up in Alabama. Small town. Two stores. One restaurant. But it has the best fried chicken—”

“Less talking. More … you know,” she growls.

“More what, Addison? More fucking?” I pull away, looking down at her. “That what you mean by you know, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she says boldly. “My friend just told me you’re the campus playboy. Playboys aren’t supposed to be Chatty Cathys.”

I frown at her choice of words. Nobody has ever complained if I try to talk to them before fucking their brain out.

This is weird. And sort of hot.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask. “Playboys don’t talk?”

“You aren’t supposed to want to talk this much!” She sounds frustrated. “Or ask me questions! That’s why I went out on a limb here by coming to your room. And also the reason I didn’t tell you to piss off when you came on to me downstairs.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I rear my head back. “Make no mistake. I know what I’m doing in bed. I’ll make your toes sore from curling and your voice hoarse from screaming my name. And, hell yes, I’m experienced. But look here, babe. If you want a ride on my dick, you can at least talk to me before I take you on a trip.” I feign being hurt. “I’m more than a pretty face and a nice cock, you know.”

Rolling her eyes at me, she grabs her shirt and pulls it back on over her head. “This was a mistake.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” I run my hand up the back of my neck. “Why are you putting your clothes back on? Normally, it’s the opposite. Is this some kinky game? Reverse psychology? If so, I could probably be into it. Just as long as, in the end, we’re both naked.”

Sliding out of bed, she walks toward the door before turning around. “Look, I don’t do this. Ever. I don’t look for hookups because, typically, I don’t have time. My life is busy. I’m busy. So, while I’m sure you’re a nice guy with big feelings and lots to talk about, that isn’t what I’m looking for. I came here tonight, looking for an orgasm. One to blow my mind enough to get me through this school year.” She puts a hand on her sexy, curvy hip. “Hot, dirty sex with someone who wouldn’t ask for my number. Not whatever the hell you’re making this.”

“Who said I was going to ask for your number?” I say cockily. “Sounds like wishful thinking on your end, babe.”

“Oh my gawd. And you’re much more annoying than I anticipated.” She runs her hand through her curls, pushing them from her face before turning away from me. “Enjoy your night, Cathy.”

I jump up quickly, taking a few long strides toward her. And as she reaches for the doorknob, I stop her by slapping my hand on the door.

Spinning slowly, she turns, pressing her back to the door. “What are you doing?”

“Addison?” I say sharply.


Removing my hand from the door briefly, I peel my shirt over my head. “If you’re looking to get fucked thoroughly, I promise, you’re in the right place.” My hand grips the back of her neck lightly as I drag her mouth toward mine. “Game on, baby. I’ll have you seeing stars. I just hope you’re ready. This ride could get rough.”

Kissing her hard, I lift her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist.

I walk us to the bed before tossing her down and tearing her jeans and black panties from her body. She’s got curves—delicious ones at that—making the fabric cling to her thighs.

Once I finally get her jeans completely off her body, I kiss her inner thigh and glance at her. “You don’t want a nice guy, Addison? Good. Because there isn’t one in this room.”

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