I had to cut this scene from my novel... 📚

Hello hello!

As promised, here's the scene I deleted from the novel! The characters are the same and they have the same personalities, etc. but I decided to change the climax once I read a similar scene in another book (it wasn't very similar but still made me uncomfortable lol).

This was the first scene I wrote! It's the start of the entire novel and some things have changed (for example, there was no fake dating here yet!). I hope you enjoy reading the scene and then enjoy reading the book. It's truly my best and my favorite, maybe because it's a full length novel, so I had the space to work my creative muscles.

If you have a chance, please, add Pucking Perfect to your Goodreads! (For some reason, they haven't updated the cover yet).

See you next!

xx

Erin

DELETED SCENE

The worst part is how irritatingly good he is. If only it were just an empty brag! But no, damn perfect James had to be amazing in everything he does. He’s right to have an ego this big. I can’t even complain.

He laps at my clit as if starving. It’s amazing how he makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. He could have any girl he ever wanted, and even so, he eats me out as if I’m the most delicious treat.

My arousal runs down the inside of my thigh, and he uses it to slide a finger inside me. I curl my toes and release a long, reverberating moan. My head drops back onto the pillow. I reach out for his hair and stop myself.

I groan in frustration. “God, I want to grab your hair, but I’m going to destroy it.”

James closes his lips around my clit, sucks once, then pops it free, making me jerk. He looks up from between my thighs with his eyes wide. “Are you mad? Who cares about hair?” His thumb strokes my clit as he moves her finger in and out of me.

“You do. A lot.”

“When I’m in public, when there’s press. Not when I’m eating you out. What kind of man would I be if I cared about that?”

A player, I want to say. A guy who’s slept with hundreds of women and couldn’t care less about them anymore. A guy who changes girlfriends as often as he change clothes.

James licks a stripe up between my labia. “Woman. Grab. My. Hair.”

I bite down on my bottom lip. That’s so tempting. He’s always so particular about that damn hair. “You sure?”

He rolls his eyes, and his big hand reaches around me to grab my wrist. “Grab it. Ride my face. Do whatever the fuck you want. Just let me see you come again.”

The heat in his words sends a shiver down my body, tightening my nipples further. I run my fingers through his hair.

“It is really silky,” I breathe out. “You’re such a bastard. You’re good at everything you do.”

He smirks, his nose brushing against the inside of my thigh. “Say that again.” His thumb flicks my clit, oversensitive, and I hiss.

“You’re such a bastard.”

James bites down on the inside of my thigh. It’s so sudden that I jump and let out a squeal.

“Wrong,” he says with that smirk, his eyes glinting in amusement. Or humor. Or something. “Try again.”

“You bit me!” I plant my hands on the mattress and start to sit up.

His strong hands keep hold of my hips, and he tugs me back down. “Say it. I’m good at everything I do.”

I groan. “Do I have to?”

He shrugs and spreads my thighs. Lowering between them again, he flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue, his eyes still on me. “If you want to come.”

“You’re such a bastard.” Pleasure builds inside me, slow and promising with every flick of his tongue.

“You’ve already said that. Three times. It’s starting to worry me.”

I laugh. “Jay. I might commit violence if you don’t finish what you started.”

Another smirk. How can it still make my stomach flip after all this time? “So, you better admit it already. You like the way I make you come.”

I sigh and reach out to touch his hair again. “Fuck it. Yeah, I like the way you make me come. And I like your stupid hair. And you’re irritatingly good at everything you try. I hate it.”

He chuckles, that low, amused laugh I never hear him use in public. “Good girl. Now,” he brushes his glistening lips against my labia, “will you ride my face or not?”

My pussy squeezes around his finger when he crooks it. I tighten my hold on his hair as he lowers his face again. Pleasure lights up every cell in my body. I circle my hips against his mouth, and he rewards me with one of those famished growls.

The front door unlocks. My head is so fuzzy with lust that I take too long to understand what’s happening.

“Guess what I brought for dinner!” Daniel calls out, my brother’s loud voice echoing through the small apartment. The sound of plastic bags and keys clattering on the dining table follows. “Bought you some nasty raw fish to perk you up. Even though I will never understand people who eat this.”

Oh, fucking no.

James halts, but he doesn’t get up. He stares at me with huge eyes. We’re frozen like that for a second, staring in confusion at one another.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“I thought he was away for the weekend?” James asks in a hurried whisper.

“I thought so, too!” I answer with my voice pitching higher.

“Alicia? Are you with someone?”

“No!” I squeal out, and I want to tell him to stay in the living room, but there’s no time. His footsteps bring him closer, and the apartment is too small for me to think of anything else.

I reach out for the covers and bring them over James. He shoots me an amused glance just before I cover his face. Thank God I kept the dress on. I adjust it beneath the covers and grab my phone just as Daniel walks in.

He stops at the doorway, his broad shoulders taking up all the space. Daniel’s eyes narrow at me, then at the volume under the covers. It was a terrible idea. Terrible, terrible idea.

Is there a way out of this now?

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes still narrowed.

What would make him leave? He won’t believe I’m reading on my phone when my Kindle is just there. The TV is off. Shit, I should have turned the TV on. Too late now.

Anything. Anything, Alicia.

“I’m masturbating.”

Oh God. Why did my brain stop working now, of all times?

Daniel’s brows bunch together. His lips drop half-open. He doesn’t look like he believed me at all. “Okay... guess I’ll... let you finish?”

“Yes, please.” My face is freaking on fire. I’m so hot that even my eyes water. “I’ll meet you in five.”

Daniel makes to leave and I feel the embers of hope in my chest. They disappear when he stops, still staring at me.

“You know,” he starts, “there’s enough food for three people. I’ll let you guys finish.”

My throat clenches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you just leave?”

“Sure. It’s just that...” He motions to the end of the mattress. “I may not be very bright, Alicia, but these feet are too big to be yours.”

I stretch my neck to glance at the end of the bed. When I pulled the duvet over James, it uncovered his feet.

Slowly, he pulls them under the covers.

A bit too late for that.

I slap both hands over my face. “Oh God, please, let me die.”

Daniel raises his hands in a defensive position. “I texted you I was coming. Guess you were too busy masturbating to read it.”

I groan in absolute mortification, but the universe isn’t done mocking me.

Because damned James snickers.

Daniel tilts his head, arching an eyebrow as he waits. I raise mine back, silently begging him to leave. Daniel opens one of his self-satisfied smiles and shakes his head.

This is hell. Daniel is going to make me pay for cock-blocking him all those years ago, I know it.

“I hate you,” I say, defeated.

“No, you don’t.” He smirks. “I knew you were getting laid. You were too happy these days.”

“Shut up, please.”

“Fuck no. I have half a mind to film this. You’re ten shades of red.” He tilts his chin towards James, still covered. “Go on, I promise I won’t judge your poor choice in men.”

James sits up, but instead of coming up between my legs, he’s smart enough to pull the cover over his back, leaving my legs covered. The duvet drops onto his lap, messing with his hair. His gaze searches me for a second, making sure I’m covered. Then he looks at Daniel.

“Hey, man,” he says, and I’ve never, ever seen him this serious.

Half of me expects Daniel to scream at us. He’s James’s best friend. He knows how much of a player James is. He’s always been protective of me. More than once, he’s manhandled my boyfriends out of the house because I looked a little uncomfortable.

The other half of me thinks he’s going to laugh. He’s going to say he knew it. That he saw it coming a mile off, with how I puppy-eyed James, how we disappeared together, and how we were often both on the phone when we were hanging out with the team.

Nothing prepared me for this.

“Daniel?” I murmur. He hasn’t moved. He stares at James and stares and stares, his eyes wide, his brows so high they hide behind his bangs. His mouth is a straight line, his jaw clenched. He blinks twice and still, he says nothing. “Daniel?”

James shoves a hand through his hair. “I think we broke him.” He has the audacity to sound amused. He waves a hand. “Dude? You want me to call 911?”

“You can’t be serious,” I hiss at him. I don’t need jokes right now.

James grins at me. “I told you he wouldn’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” Daniel says, his voice flat. “I’m… I’m...” He turns to me and motions at James. “You know he’s, like, the biggest slut this team has ever seen, right?”

“Jesus, Danny,” James groans.

“I’m aware,” I say, looking away from both. “I made sure we... um, we were clean.”

Daniel looks between us again, then back at me. “You’re aware he’s using you for sex, right?”

It would have hurt less if he had slapped me. Daniel never, ever hit me, not even when we were kids and I was being annoying by clinging to him when he wanted to play hockey and I wanted him to read me stories.

The way he looks at me now is much, much worse than if he had hit me. Air locks in my lungs. I can’t help but wince.

“Hey, hey, hey,” James says, throwing the cover off and getting to his feet. He’s still in his boxers, thank God. “Chill out, man. I’m not using her for anything. Don’t say that.”

“Oh, aren’t you?” Daniel whirls around at James and now I’m worried. Daniel is a little taller than James, but he’s bulkier. I don’t want to see them fight, but Daniel is pulling his shoulders back, looking down at James. “Then why are you sneaking around? Are you dating? Did you tell anyone? Did you post a picture online or some shit?”

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. We’re not dating, but we agreed about it. We agreed it was going to be casual, that it was just going to be once.

Of course, once became every weekend, then almost every day. Casual became showing up with ice cream, asking for a massage and showering together.

Casual became more. It grew into something I’ve been avoiding acknowledging.

James shows his hands in a pacifying gesture. “We’re both consenting adults. We have settled our terms. It was never meant to be public. We’re just having fun, Danny.”

We’re just having fun.

We are, aren’t we? That’s exactly what it is.

Then why does it hurt to hear him say it?

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