Pucking the Enemy (Pucking Pregnant #2)

1. Hazel

Chapter 1

Hazel

“ N o jersey tonight?” Seb asked as he appeared in my doorway, his dark curls still damp from his shower. My best friend wore his usual T-shirt and jeans, and we were making our way to the after-party for the hockey game he’d just played, hosted at some random frat house. We had been friends for so many years, and I had attended so many of his games and related events, that it would feel weird if I missed one—even though my back-to-school reading list was insane, and I needed to dedicate some serious hours to studying.

Seb’s team, the Hawking Hawks—real original name, I know—had just dominated over the Glenfield Giants, so he was in a celebratory mood. We had swung by my dorm so I could grab a few things before going to the after-party together. Since the game had been right after my classical literature class, I had taken my book bag with me, and the last thing I wanted to do was haul it around a party.

“The jersey was dirty, so I had to put it in the wash. Surely, this will do? It’s the team colors, after all.” I glanced in the mirror at my outfit. The dress I had chosen was princessy, whimsical, and possibly childish—knee length and blue, with puffy tulle sleeves.

Usually, I wore one of Seb’s jerseys. He had given me quite a few over the years, and they were pretty comfy to wear. The one I’d been wearing the most during the current season had to be cleaned because I’d accidentally spilled ketchup down it during the last game. That left my dress choices somewhat open to interpretation. So, the flouncy, blue dress it was.

I loved it.

“You look amazing. It’ll do,” Seb said, leaning against the wall, his eyes raking over me.

“Thank you!” I beamed at him, grabbing my purse that was shaped like a cloud and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Maybe you look too amazing,” he muttered as he trailed after me. I rolled my eyes. Sebastian and I had been friends for so long that I was used to his overprotective nature. He closed the door to my dormitory, checking it had locked before following me. Dallas House was one of the fanciest dorms at Hawking University. The security was amazing—so much so that I often didn’t bother locking my door. When Seb had discovered that, I had been subjected to a three-hour-long lecture on personal safety.

“No such thing as looking too good!” I told him as I strode out the door, going downstairs and into his waiting silver truck. I had spent an extra twenty minutes applying blue shimmer and glitter to my eyelids. If I wanted to look like a fairy princess, then that was my goddamned prerogative.

“Put your belt on!” he insisted as he hauled himself into the driver’s seat.

“So overprotective,” I said, rolling my eyes. The entire cab smelled like Seb—rich cherry wine. That smell was comforting and familiar to me.

“I have to be, considering you can hardly walk in a straight line!”

“I can!”

“You tripped over thin air and spilled Coke on the mascot!”

“That was one time!”

Seb snorted. “One time too many, Hazelnut.”

By the time we got to the frat house twenty minutes from campus, the party was already in full swing. Loud music blared, and people loitered in front of the house, drinks in hand.

“We’re always late to these things,” I said as Seb parked his truck on a nearby street.

“That’s because you take so long getting ready. Did you really need to take ten minutes just to apply glitter to your face?” Seb asked in a good-natured voice.

“I only applied it to my eyelids, and it’s blue, so it’s all in team spirit!” I insisted with a laugh, unbuckling my seat belt and climbing out of the truck.

He laughed. “Well, I appreciate the support.”

The house was packed, and that was saying something because it was one of the larger frat houses. Everywhere I looked, there were people standing around in small groups and socializing, dancing, or getting grabby with one another.

“I’m going to go find Dylan. Are you okay?” Seb asked loudly, so I could hear him over the music. Dylan was his teammate, and he had mentioned discussing something to do with an upcoming game before finding me again.

“Don’t take too long,” I shouted over the music.

“I’ll try and be quick. You know how Dylan can be. If I don’t listen to him bitch about how we failed during the game, he’ll never shut up.”

I nodded; that sounded about right. “I’ll go grab us some drinks.”

“Sealed cans only, Hazelnut!” he shouted as we parted. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Seb was paranoid that I would accept a drink from some random guy and end up drugged to the skies. Ever since we went to our first high school party, he had implemented a “sealed cans only” rule. If I didn’t open the drink myself, or at the very least, see it being opened, I wasn’t to touch it.

Squeezing through the bodies, I made way to what I believed was the kitchen. Luckily, most houses had somewhat similar layouts, so it wasn’t hard to figure out, despite there being an astronomical number of people shoved into the relatively small space.

The marble countertops were covered in buckets of ice filled with various cans and bottles. The options ranged from soda to beer to cute little cans of cocktails. Those caught my interest. I usually avoided mixed drinks because they weren’t worth the lecture from Seb about the closed-can policy.

The buckets were in the middle of the counter, so I had to stand on my tiptoes to lean over to search through one of them, the ice water burning my fingers as I rummaged, trying to grab the red can I could just make out.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my body stiffened as I felt someone move behind me.

Dark, fruity rum wafted around me. Was that the stranger’s scent or just the overwhelming alcoholic smell of the party?

Either way, it smelled divine.

“Looking for something in particular?” a deep voice said from behind me.

I wasn’t a dark rum girl… but I could easily become one.

Slowly, I pulled my hand out of the bucket, sinking back onto my heels and turning to see who the voice belonged to.

Holy hot alpha.

Easily a foot taller than me, the stranger had neatly cut blond hair that was styled back out of his face. He had a pronounced jawline and an angular nose to match. Blue eyes and high cheekbones. His chest was wide, and he was clearly well built under the black T-shirt he wore.

Either this man had been doused in dark, fruity rum—which, seeing as we were at a frat party, was a possibility—or he smelled good enough to eat.

“Hi,” I said quietly, my voice getting lost in the noise of the party.

He leaned forward so his lips nearly brushed my ear. The smell was definitely coming from him. I had the momentary urge to lean forward and lick his neck, to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“I asked if you were looking for anything in particular, Duchess?” He repeated his earlier question, only this time, he added the nickname.

“I was trying to get a can of strawberry daiquiri,” I admitted with a shy smile. I wasn’t the quietest of omegas, but something about the sheer presence of this alpha had me feeling a bit more subdued than usual.

His face broke out into a disarming grin. “I can help you there,” he declared, leaning over to reach the bucket. The movement plastered our bodies together as he looked down at me with a smile, his eyes never leaving my face as his fingers searched around in the bucket, pulling out the can with ease and holding it in front of my face with a triumphant grin.

“Thank you.” I gently took the can from him, opening it and taking a sip. “I’m surprised they even do cocktail cans at these parties.”

“I know the guys who live here. They tend to do it for the omegas who don’t want to accept drinks that are already open,” he said, leaning down, his body still less than an inch from mine. He was invading my personal space, and if it were anyone else, I would have been irritated, but his presence was oddly comforting.

I snorted with laughter. “My best friend has a rule that I’m not allowed to drink from anything that I haven’t opened myself at parties,” I admitted, licking my lips.

“She’s a very smart woman, then,” he said, resting one of his hands on the countertop, caging me in.

I didn’t bother to correct him.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Roman, you?” The movement of his lips drew my attention to their fullness. I wanted to taste him.

“Hazel.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful omega.” He smiled. “Though you’re clearly being neglected. No one should let a beautiful omega scramble for drinks on her own. You’re far too short for it.” Laughter danced in his eyes as he spoke, and he was obviously holding back a laugh.

“I’ll have you know, I’m five foot tall!” I cried indignantly.

He cocked his eyebrow, a disbelieving look crossing his face. “Are you sure about that? You’re practically a nugget.”

“I am!” I insisted. Well… I was close enough.

Glancing over to the right, I saw Seb through the throng of people. He was surrounded by puck bunnies in tight dresses with their hair and makeup done far nicer than I could ever do on myself. My best friend smiled at them with ease. He loved the attention. I didn’t begrudge him that, but it could be annoying when it meant him leaving me to my own devices with people I hardly knew.

Only, this time, I had someone to keep me company.

A very handsome someone who I was considering climbing like a tree.

“I’m calling bullshit on your height, Duchess.”

“That’s rude.” I turned my nose up at him, even though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile I couldn’t keep off my face.

“I never said I was a gentleman.” He shrugged. “A gentleman wouldn’t be having the thoughts I am.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. My thoughts are hardly ladylike,” I admitted, taking a small sip of my drink, the sweet strawberry making me hum in happiness.

Roman’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “And what thoughts are you having, Duchess?”

I leaned forward, preparing to be brave. If Sebastian could have a load of puck bunnies hanging off him, then I could have a little fun of my own without feeling guilty. “Dirty ones,” I declared.

“What a bold little omega you are,” he said, leaning over and grabbing a can of beer, cracking it open and taking a sip, his eyes never leaving me.

“I’m trying something new.” I shrugged. “What do you study?”

“Business and communications. What about you?”

“English major, with a minor in textiles.” As I spoke, his hand slowly inched around my waist, leaving a trail of fire through the material of my dress.

“Smart woman,” he murmured, dipping his head so our lips were less than an inch apart. His breath smelled like rum and dark fruit. It was a delicious and heady mix, and I wanted more.

“We’ve only just met,” I mumbled.

“I know. This is weird, but there’s something about you that’s just so…”

I huffed lightly. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughed, the sound almost drowned out in the loudness of the room. His hand gripped my hips, pulling me flush with him.

My entire body warmed at the sensation.

He was hard, his cock pressed firmly against me.

I silently thanked the gods that we were in a loud party, full of various scents, so he probably couldn’t smell just how turned on the feel of his hardness made me. Were we alone, he would undoubtedly get a noseful of my slick.

“Usually, I’m a lot cooler,” he said. “But for some reason, I can’t seem to manage that with you.” His breath danced across my face as he spoke. All I needed to do was inch forward the smallest amount, and I would be kissing him.

Discarding my can on the counter, I rested my hands lightly on his chest. Momentarily, I considered pushing him away. We were at a party, after all, and we had hardly spoken two sentences to each other.

He smelled so fucking good, though.

I was an omega, he was an alpha. It was just biology.

My hands slowly trailed up his chest, coming to rest around his neck, feeling the wiry muscles underneath.

His lips brushed against mine softly. My breath hitched, fingers clenching. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had left indents in his skin from my nails.

A low hum escaped his throat as I closed the distance, pressing my lips more firmly to his. My body molded to his as he pushed me back, the edge of the counter digging into my back, leaving nothing between us. His cock was still firmly against me, and I shivered in excitement.

How long had it been since I’d had sex, good sex, not mediocre, one-pump-chump sex?

The only thing I was thinking about was how badly I wanted to keep tasting this alpha. After pushing forward, he took the hint and swiftly took over, his lips molding to mine in firm and soft movements.

Every ridge of his body felt perfect. His hands grazed over my hips, pulling me tighter against him, his lips never letting up on their assault.

“Please tell me you live nearby. I’m a twenty-minute ride away,” I panted breathlessly, my lips brushing him as I spoke.

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous,” he mumbled, punctuating his words with kisses.

It was crazy. I had just met this alpha… surely, I wasn’t considering going home with him?

My body cried out with need. If I didn’t take care of myself soon, my underwear was going to be drenched through.

“Be presumptuous,” I said, nipping at his bottom lip. His eyes closed, a low moan escaping his mouth at my words.

“I live a two-minute walk away,” he admitted. “Fuck, are you going to let me worship you, omega?” The words, combined with the title, made my poor, neglected pussy spasm. I was totally going to let him worship me.

I nodded.

“Fuck, I don’t care where you came from, but you’ve got a body made for knotting and smell like the sweetest fucking dessert. I was supposed to stay here tonight to support my friend, but he’s a big boy and can cope. Let me take you home?”

“Do you have any ID?” I asked.

He pulled back slightly, quirking an eyebrow. He wrapped an arm around my waist, looking from left to right. We were still in the loud, overcrowded kitchen.

Without a word, he tugged me through a short hallway to a den, where there were far less people and far less noise.

“ID?” he asked with a smile, his hands never leaving my body. “Trying to steal my identity?”

“Do you?” I asked more firmly.

He frowned, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet and pulling out his driver’s license. Taking it off him, I glanced over it. Sure enough, there was his name—Roman Kingswood.

“So you are Roman,” I said with a smile, holding the ID next to his face. “Do you mind if I send a picture of this and your face to my friend? For safety reasons.”

“That’s… really smart,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. He smiled as I snapped the photo, quickly sending it to a group chat with a few of my friends while Roman put his wallet back in his pocket. Seb was the most obvious person I should have texted, but he probably would have cockblocked me and given me a lecture about going places with strange men, and that was the last thing I wanted to deal with right now.

“Does your friend approve?” he asked. I hummed in agreement, as several thumbs-up emojis were sent from my friends, nodding as I looked up at him. His jawline was so angular. I wanted to nip at it.

He pulled me in to him again, this time placing wet open-mouth kisses on my neck that made my legs shake with anticipation.

“Let’s get out of here,” I told him.