Pucking Ever After(Jacksonville Rays, #2.5)

by Emily Rath

Note: This is one of the most requested bonus scenes for Pucking Around. This scene takes place the night of Caleb’s karaoke performance.

A hand on my hip has me jumping. I turn to see Jake staring down at me. His eyes are burning through me, his jaw set tight. I know he saw the way I was just looking at Cay. My eyes go wide in understanding. This is what has him so on edge tonight. He’s jealous. Cay brought us here to show off for me…in front of Jake. That’s what Jake meant by learning his lesson. Something happened between them that has Jake on the back foot, taking a swing from Caleb. He had to sit there and watch as Caleb played for me, turning me on with his talent and charisma.

I brush a hand down his forearm. “Listen…Jake—” “We’re fine, Rach,” he says over me, the heat in his eyes dimming as he remembers where we are and who surrounds us on all sides. His hand drops away from me, and he leans forward, snatching his beer off the table. “He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” I take the beer he hands me, the tips of our fingers brushing. “He’s amazing.” “Yep.” He takes a sip of his beer. “The ladies always love the look of Cay at the mic.” “Well, he’s sexy as sin,” I reply, feigning an indifferent shrug. “And that voice is smooth like butter. It’s enough to make anyone feel a little hot and bothered. I may need to fish one of the ice cubes out of that glass and smooth it down my neck just to cool off.”

“Maybe that ice trails a little lower,” I tease. “Cools me off in other places that now feel…wet.” “Fuck.” Dropping down to the bench seat of our picnic table, he’s a swirling storm cloud of emotion, his shoulders rounded as he holds his beer glass with both hands.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re hard as stone right now,” I say, leaning in. “Is your cock feeling trapped in those cute little board shorts?” “Stop,” he warns. “We’re in public, remember? What happened to your stupid no PDA rules?”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing with Caleb right now, but this is not a game to me, Jake. You are not a game, and I don’t take what we have lightly.”

“But I won’t apologize for how I feel about him. Just like I won’t apologize to him for how I feel about you, Jake—”

“I refuse to hurt you, Jake. You mean too much to me. And I refuse to harm your friendship. If this is all too much for you—” “Hey,” he says, shutting me down with a look. He reaches surreptitiously under the table, his hand on my thigh. “It’s not. Rach, I swear, this was…it was just a dumb guy thing. It was a me thing,” he corrects, his tone lightening a bit. “It’s not about you, baby…or you and Cay.”

“I’ll be right back,” I say over the cover band now rocking out to a U2 song. “Hey Doc, you going to the bar?” Hanner calls, already three sheets to the wind. “Get us another bucket of Coronas.” “Nope,” I shout back, my hand still on Jake’s shoulder. “Ladies’ room.” The guys jostle him as I hear Jake say, “Get your own damn beer, Pauly. She’s your PT, not your waitress.”

Caleb is standing right behind me. I gaze up into his dark eyes. His mussed hair falls forward onto his forehead. He’s got his hat tucked into the back pocket of his faded jeans. That black t-shirt is fitting him like a glove. I smile. “So do you.” He leans closer. “Oh, you heard that out there, did you?” I roll my eyes. “Hard not to when you dedicated it to me. Which—thanks for that, by the way,” I add slapping his chest. “I almost had ‘Hot Doc’ dead and buried until you went and breathed new life into it.” He laughs before sobering a bit. “I can tell the guys to knock it off if it really bothers you.” I just shrug. “Trust me, I’ve been called worse.” “She’s got a good sound,” he says again, nodding towards the band’s lead singer. “Yeah…sometimes it’s hard for me to hear Ferrymen songs though,” I admit. “Imitation is the highest form of flattery,” he replies. “She’s just singing what she likes.”

“I’d like to know your demons better. Seems only fair when you already know mine.”

“My dad OD’d for the first time while on tour for this album. He cheated on my mom during that tour. He tore apart our family. The ‘Dark Devil’ isn’t a motorcycle or the police or a dangerous woman. It’s his addiction problems. It’s him fighting and losing. He got back from touring for this album and my parents divorced and he moved out. He lost everything…we lost everything.”

“Well, that’s all you get, Hurricane—” “Where the hell did you learn to play guitar like that?” I say over him. He laughs and moves like he means to step around me. “I’m not telling you another damn thing until you pay me for it.” I grab his tattooed arm, feeling him tense. “Pay you? What the hell does that mean?” “It means nothing in this life is free, Hurricane. You want a more intimate look at my dark and twisties? You better be willing to pay first.” My heart skips a beat as he gives me a look like he wants to eat me alive. My entire body hums as he drags his eyes over me. I suppress a shiver, fighting the urge to jump in his arms and let him drag me into the closest bathroom stall.

“Caleb Sanford, if you think I’m going to fuck you in the bathroom in exchange for personal details, you can think again. I said no PDA.” “Pity,” he replies. “‘Cause I’ve got a lot of sad stories to tell, Hurricane. Lots of deep aches that could use…massaging.” “You’re an ass,” I hiss, trying to step away from him. He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me further into the dark. All but blocked from prying eyes, he presses me against the wall and anchors me with his hips, his face lowering until his breath is hot in my ear. “Don’t pretend you don’t fucking love this ass,” he taunts, nipping the lobe of my ear.

I swallow a frustrated moan as my body utterly betrays me. God, I want this man more than I want air. He laughs, kissing down my neck, knowing he’s won. That’s the thing he and Jake both need to understand: there is no contest. There never was, and there never will be. I intend to let them both keep winning me over and over again. Caleb pulls me with him into the dark of the hallway, his mouth on mine, kissing the last feeble sounds of protest from my lips. Suddenly, half the restaurant begins to cheer, and we break apart with a shared gasp. Looking in each other’s eyes, we listen as the band plays the first few chords of ‘Sweet Home Alabama.’ As one, we smile.

Caleb jerks me inside, holding me close with one hand, as he shuts the door with the other. Turning the deadbolt, he presses me against the door with his hips, his free hand already reaching up under my scrub shirt, cupping me over my sports bra. I dig my fingers in his hair, biting and sucking on his bottom lip as we kiss. I take in a sharp breath, letting him go as he pinches my nipple over the cotton of my bra. “We’ve got about three and a half minutes,” I pant against his mouth, listening as a room full of tipsy people start singing the first chorus of ‘Sweet Home Alabama’.

his fingers dipping under the elastic of my scrub pants. With his other hand firm on my hip, he pulls me from the door and walks me over to the sink. He swallows my cry as his fingers open me, sliding through my wetness.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he hums against my mouth, making my pussy clench around his fingers. “You want a deep, dark truth from me? Give me one of yours first. Show me what this body wants. Show me what she fucking craves. I want to feel you take your fucking rules and bend them ’til they break.”

“I am going to devour you.” He says the words like a vow, an incantation. “I am going to strip you fucking bare and drown in your perfect cunt.” “Cay—mmph—” He swallows my words with a fierce kiss as he frees his hand from my scrub pants, leaving me empty, my pussy squeezing around nothing. Taking half a step back from me, his hands drop to my hips. With a swift jerk, he pulls my scrubs and my cotton panties down around my knees. Without hesitating, he lifts me up, placing my bare ass on the edge of the sink. I hiss as my cheeks touch the cold porcelain. “Don’t fucking move,” he growls, his hand firm on my hip, holding me to the sink.

“Be my good girl, and don’t say a word.” Swallowing the moan already creeping up my throat, I nod. Then he descends. “Oh—fuck—” The words die on my lips as I physically bite them back. I dig my top teeth into my bottom lip as Cay eats me out, his chin moving, giving me delicious friction. He sucks and teases my clit with that clever tongue. God, he’s so good at this. “Don’t stop,” I pant, my tone breathless as I grip his hair tighter.

Then he dives in with his tongue, burying himself in my cunt. “Fuck—” I curl around him, nearly losing my balance on the sink’s edge. He grips my thighs with both hands. Holding me open, he dives deeper, his tongue moving in and out. I ride it out, my whole body coiling tight as I feel myself ready to shatter.

“Oh, Cay…you can’t lose me,” I whisper. “And you won’t lose him for wanting me.” Slowly he nods, his breath warm against my pussy. “You won’t lose us,” I say again.

“Were you a choir boy?” I tease. He doesn’t return my smile. “Yes. And I did all the church plays, church bands, church youth groups. I spent every moment not in class or out on the ice being brainwashed into thinking everything I am, everything I want, everything I feel…it’s a fucking sin. I lived in a cage of hate and fear, Rachel, rattling at the bars like a starved fucking animal.” My heart drops and I reach out a hand, cupping his cheek. “Oh…Cay.” “I hated myself for so fucking long,” he says, unveiling his own dark devil. “And then I hated them for putting the doubt in my head, for making me think I deserved to be hated.” “Who?” I whisper. He huffs a mirthless laugh. “My parents mostly. My brothers, my cousins, my friends, sometimes even my teammates. They fed me the lie over and over. They twisted me the fuck up until I believed them. I believed I was a monster—”

“You don’t have to hide with me, Cay. You don’t have to mask, and you don’t have to pretend. Want what you want. Want who you want. Do it out loud. I will never hold you back, I swear it.” He steps in, his hands dropping to my waist as he pulls me closer. “Is that enough ugly truth for you for one night, Hurricane? Are we done now?” I nod, my hands smoothing across his chest. “I’m trying here,” he adds. “With you and with Jake…I’m not a sunshine and rainbows kinda guy though, and I never will be—” I place my fingers over his lips. “I don’t want that from you. Jake is enough bottled sunshine. I want you to be you. You’re enough, Cay. Just like this. It’s enough.”

“Rachel,” he warns, one dark brow raised as his body stiffens. He shakes his head, jaw clenching. “We’re gonna get caught…” I brush the back of my hand down his length again, teasing him through the denim. “But I thought you liked symmetry. A truth for a truth…an orgasm for an orgasm—”

“Rules are made to be broken,” I say, turning my wrist in his grip as I reach out with my other hand, brushing my fingers down the middle of his stomach, stopping just above his belt. “Come on, daddy…don’t make me beg.” Got him.

He moves lightning fast with his free hand, grabbing my hair in a tight fist and jerking my head back until I gasp. The pain zings right through my body like a slap to the clit. Oh, fuck yes.

“I’m going to choke you with this dick and paint your pretty mouth with my cum. Would you like that, Hurricane?”

“Good girls say ‘please,’” he taunts, rubbing his thumb over my parted lips. My eyes go wide as I take in the way the shadows dance across his face. This is one dark devil I’m happy to play with. This is a devil I’m falling for. This devil is coming home with me. This devil is mine. “Please,” I say, already sinking to my knees.

This was the guys’ big surprise for me for our stag and hen parties. Tess and her girls are back at the resort having a full spa day, while me and the guys did jet skis in the bay this morning, followed by an awesome seafood lunch, and an afternoon on this deep-sea fishing charter.

I’m just about to ask how much longer we’ll be out here when my reel jerks in my hand. I nearly drop it before the spool starts spinning like a top with a sharp whizzing sound. “Oh shit—” I grab the reel with both hands. “Guys—shit—ouch—guys, I think I got a bite!”

“Give it some line before you start to reel it in,” adds Rob. “We’re gonna look for a nice rhythm, just like a dance. Jig, rhythm, jig.” He slaps my sunburned shoulder, and I hiss through my teeth. Whatever’s on the end of this line, it’s strong. The end of my pole bends at an impossible angle as I hold it with both hands, giving the fish resistance. “Whoa, she’s moving in a hurry—quick—come around to the front here,” Rob instructs, taking me by the arm. “Yeah, get it Langers,” Sully calls. “Keep it on the line.” Captain Rob stands at my shoulder. “Find your rhythm, mate. Reel it in and hold. Reel and hold. There you go.” “Don’t give it too much room to run.” “Easy does it.”

“Fuck, it’s strong as shit.” “You got her, man.” “Keep going—” “Hey Langers, look this way,” Jake calls. “Photo for the girls.” I glance distractedly over my shoulder as Jake snaps pictures with his phone. The fish puts up a serious fight, jerking left then right across the front of the boat. “Follow her,” Rob calls, stepping back to give me room. “That’s it, just like a dance. Keep following. She’ll tire herself out.”

“Oh fuck, here it comes,” Novy shouts. Behind me, the guys all cheer. There’s a shadowy splash off the left side of the boat. Then she’s pulling sharply to the right, and I follow, part of me wishing I could hand the reel over to someone else. But I’m here. I’m catching this damn fish. “There it is!” Sully calls, pointing over the bow. A bigger splash this time. The resistance is getting heavier now that the fish is all the way at the surface. Sully is grinning like a kid. “Hold it, Langers. You almost got her.” “What is it?” I pant.

“Now you’re all just fucking guessing!” I hold tight to the spinner as the mystery fish fights me. Rod rattles around looking for something. “Reel her in a bit closer. We’ll see in a second.” “It’s a shark,” comes Mars’s deep voice. Jake snorts. “Yeah, right. Langers didn’t catch a—” “Oh, holy fuck, that’s a shark,” Novy shouts, jumping up and down with his hands on Sully’s shoulders. Morrow leans over the boat rail, peering down at the shadow in the water. “Dude, it’s totally a shark.” My eyes go wide. Okay, so…fun fact about me? I’m terrified of sharks. Like, don’t like to swim in the deep end of pools in case there’s sharks. Won’t go out deeper than knee-deep at the beach afraid of sharks.

“You’re all fucking fired,” I squawk. “I don’t need groomsmen. I’ll stand up there by myself—” “Dude, this is awesome. I’m recording the whole thing,” Jake calls. “Tess is gonna freaking lose it.” “Nearly there,” says Rob. I’m slicked with sweat and my sunburned shoulders are aching. “I can’t do this—guys—I’m afraid of sharks.” Sully shrugs. “Who isn’t?” “Except the San Jose Sharks,” says Novy. “Who can collectively suck my sweaty balls.” “Yeah, fuck the Sharks,” chimes Morrow.

“It’s a blacktip,” Jake shouts. “Nah, it’s a mako—” “Dude, I just saw the black tip on its dorsal fin—” “She’s a blacktip for sure,” calls Rob, settling the debate. “Looks like a juvenile.” He wrestles it into the net as it continues to fight and thrash. It’s about as long as my arm from fingertips to shoulder. At its thickest point, it’s probably as big around as my thigh. The thing has small, beady eyes and charcoal black tips on all its fins.

“Langers, you gotta come hold it for the picture!” “I’m not fucking holding that thing,” I cry. “Why not?” laughs Sully. My eyes are wide. “Dude, it’s a shark.” “Yeah, but it’s, like, a rite of passage,” Jake says from behind me. “You just caught a shark. You wrestled a king of nature and won. We have to document this moment.” “Plus, Poppy could do a million social media things with the photos,” Morrow adds. “The digs at the Sharks practically write themselves.” “What’s the plan here, guys?” says Rob. “Photo or no photo? If no photo, I’m tossing her back.” “Hell, I want a photo with it,” says Novy, eagerly stepping forward. Ever the team captain, Sully holds Novy back. “It’s Langley’s shark. He should get the first photo.”

I sigh, thinking of Sanny back at the resort, probably wrapped head to toe in cooling seaweed as we speak. The asshole made a loud song and dance at lunch about getting seasick and ducked back to the hotel. I should have joined him. Because now six grown men are looking at me, a shark balanced between them, waiting for me to man up and take a damn picture. “Fine,” I huff, holding up a finger. “One picture. And I’m standing behind it, not holding it. Mars, stay right where you are.” Mars continues to hold the belly of the shark and the other guys cheer as I take Jake’s place by the tail. All the guys have their cameras out. “Just touch it once,” Jake teases. “Yeah, pretend it’s your wife’s tits,” jabs Novy. “Reach out there and grab a nice handful—” “Compare my wife’s tits to a slimy shark again, and I’ll throw you overboard,” I snap.

Rob takes his place at the wheel and turns the key. The engine sputters and grunts…and doesn’t start. My smile falls as I glance from Rob to the engine. “Not to worry,” he says, slipping between Novy and Jake’s outstretched feet towards the back of the boat. He drops to one knee, inspects a few things. Then he gives the key another try. The engine clicks…but doesn’t start. Fuck me. This is not happening.

“I gotta call this into the Coast Guard. Someone drop the anchor.” “Coast Guard?” says Novy with a raised brow. “What—like we need a rescue or something?” “Well, we’re stranded in a dead boat,” Rob replies. “And the swells out here are only getting bigger. There’s a storm moving in. We either need maintenance or a tug. Sharpish. Now, drop the anchor, while I call us in. If they’re gonna come looking for us, we better be in the right spot…unless you all wanna be lost at sea?” We can’t lower that damn anchor fast enough.

Two hours. It’s been two fucking hours, and the Coast Guard still isn’t here. None of us have cell service to contact the girls, Jake and Novy fought over the last jerky stick until it fell overboard, and now we’re rationing the last water bottle between six grown men. Our cooler is still half-full of beer, the bottles clinking as they float in the melted ice. If anything, we can use that as drinking water too. I don’t care that our grubby, fishy hands have been digging around in it all day. I am not dying out here.

“At least all Doc and Sanny will do is shout a bit,” says Morrow. “Poppy is sure to cry, which is so much worse.” “Yeah, I can do crying babies all day,” adds Novy. “But there’s something about that woman’s tears. She just…fuck, she haunts me. It’s like she starts crying, and I feel like I could literally twist myself inside out to make it stop. I never want to see her unhappy. It’s like…a biological imperative or something.” “That biological imperative is called love, Nov,” Sully teases. “Fewer syllables to remember.”

As if he can read my thoughts, Mars pulls a resort beach towel out of the bag at his feet. “Here, Ryan. Cover yourself.” I take it gratefully, wincing as the rough terrycloth rubs my burned shoulders. But it’s a block from the sun. I throw it over my shoulders like a cape, lifting it over my hat too. I huddle beneath it, feeling hungry and thirsty and sweaty and miserable. I am never going deep sea fishing again.

We can’t get off the boat fast enough, hauling ass for our waiting rental van. As soon as our feet touch the dock, we’ve all got our phones in our hands, shooting off messages to the girls. My phone blows up with missed texts and calls—from Tess, from Doc, from the other wives, even one from Sanny.

My phone buzzes with an incoming call as soon as I buckle my seat belt. A picture of Tess in a green bikini flashes on my lock screen. I swipe to accept, raising the phone to my ear. “Hey, baby—” “Ryan? What happened? That snooty bitch at the charter company wouldn’t give us any information other than that the boat was broken, and you were stranded and—” “Tess, I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Babe, we’re all fine.” All around me in the van, the other guys are answering their phones and having the same conversation. Up in the front seat, Jake is on the phone with Sanny or Doc, gesturing wildly with one hand. Morrow is the last to climb inside the van, murmuring soothing words at Poppy as Novy watches from my side, eyes wide. “Where are you now?” says Tess. “Dinner was supposed to start an hour ago.” Guilt clenches tight in my chest and I groan. “I know, baby. We’re on the way back. We’re what—twenty minutes out?” I call over the middle seat to Mars in the driver’s seat. He’s the only European, so we volunteered him to drive the van. “Twenty-three,” comes his sharp reply. He’s already backing out of our parking spot, guiding the van over the gravel lot towards the exit. “Twenty-three minutes,” I say at Tess. “We’re heading straight back, I swear.” “Switch to video,” she says. I can hear the tears in her voice, and I hate that I put them there.

“Oh…babe, you look so beautiful—” But her face turns from a smile to a look of horror. “Oh god. Ryan—baby, you’re so sunburned. What happened?” I fight the roll of my eyes. “Well, I was in the sun all day. And it’s not that bad—” “Trust me, it looks worse in person,” says Novy, leaning in to press his face close to mine and wave at Tess. “Hey, Red. Don’t worry, we’ll bring him back in one piece…sans a few skin cells.”

“Hey babe,” I say, grinning like a kid now that I know she’s not going to murder me. “Guess what?” She raises a brow. “What?” “I caught a shark.” My damn chest is even puffed out a little as I say it. She doesn’t need to know I squealed like a girl and tried to make someone else reel it in. She gasps, one hand covering her mouth. “Shut up. Seriously?” “I’m sending you some pictures now,” Novy says from my shoulder. “Me too,” says Sully. “Me three,” calls Jake from the front seat. Tess’s eyes go wide as fifty photos and videos are sent to her all at once. “Whoa…” Her eyes dart as she swipes through a couple. “Ohmy—Ryan—that’s a real shark!” I scowl as, next to me, Novy snorts. “What did you think I meant when I said I caught a shark? It wasn’t a toy shark or the metaphysical idea of ‘sharkness.’ I caught a two-foot-long blacktip reef shark—”

“Just come back, okay? You can tell me all about it while I rub some aloe on those crispy shoulders.” I groan with relief at the very idea. My girl has gentle hands and gives great massages. Maybe those hands can travel a little further south too…maybe I slip her out of that silk dress… Reading the look on my face, Novy points a finger at me. “Hey, there’s no time for a quickie. It’s rehearsal dinner time. We were promised a five-star surf and turf feast, followed by dancing on the beach under the Caribbean moonlight.” “Yeah, we expect candles and champagne and twinkle lights,” says Morrow. “We just may smell a little fishy,” adds Sully.

“Fifteen minutes out,” I say in reassurance. “Okay. See you soon, puppy—” Shit. I don’t hang up fast enough. I drop my hand down to my lap, still clutching the phone. A stiff silence hangs in the air inside this cramped, smelly van. From the middle seat, Morrow and Sully slow turn to look at me. “Puppy?” Novy repeats. I narrow my eyes at all three of them. “You wanna do this now? You really wanna come at me like I don’t know all your collective dirty laundry? Go ahead. First guy to crack a joke and call me ‘puppy’ is volunteering to get roasted.” I turn to Novy. Of all of the guys, he’ll be the one to break. He can’t help himself. Asshole is his default setting. I lift a brow, waiting. Slowly, he leans away. “It’s a nice nickname,” he says at last. “Yeah…very nice,” Morrow echoes, hiding his grin.