Page 87 of Blocked Score

“I’m almost there,” I whimper, my stomach rolling with pleasure.

“Good girl. Let me see you come.”

With a gasp, my release washes over me. My muscles pull tight as pure ecstasy floods my body. Breathy moans drip from my lips as I ride out my climax, everything feeling so good that bursts of color dance behind my clenched-closed eyelids.

My limbs hum with heavy satisfaction as I come down. When I pull in a deep breath, it’s full of Lane’s scent from his sheets, and I want to curl over and wrap myself in them.

“So fucking pretty when you come for me, baby,” Lane says, appreciation and awe hanging on his every word.

“Wow,” is all I can muster. I find the toy that I let fall from my hands between my legs and hold it up to look lovingly at it. “You sure do know how to pick out sex toys, Lane. I won’t ask how you developed the expertise.”

His chuckle sounds like warm honey.

“Oh, and Scarlett?” he says, prompting me to lift my head from the pillow to look at him. “Sleep in my bed tonight, too.”

43

LANE

We’re going to the fucking Frozen Four.

The win against Northeastern was a nailbiter, but the second round against Michigan was a blowout. They’re a great team, but they fell apart last night, and we secured a 4-0 win.

Only two games left. Two games left playing with the Brumehill Black Bears. Two games left in my career as a college hockey player, the thing that’s defined me for the last four years.

Two wins left to win the championship, the goal I’ve been obsessed with for four seasons. The thing we came so damn close to last year, before my broken leg sent it slipping through our fingers.

We have a week and a half until we head out to Minneapolis to play the two most important games of our entire lives up to now. Soon, we’ll all have to be razor-focused, dedicated to making sure we’re in top mental and physical shape, living and breathing strategy and preparation.

Soon, but not tonight.

Because on the bus ride home, Monday on the day after our win over Michigan, we got news that Brumehill is cancelling classes tomorrow due to an issue in one of the buildings.

So, since we weren’t allowed to properly celebrate our win Sunday night, we’re doing so now. Rhys, Tuck, Hudson, Sebastian, Carter, Jamie, and I are all out at Loser’s Luck Tavern, and we’re throwing back the drinks.

We know that we have to abstain after this; we also know that next time we’re drinking, we’ll either be celebrating the championship, or most of us will be mourning ending our college career without ever grasping it.

To commemorate the moment, we decided to just make this a guys’ night. Even the single guys among us are politely fending off any female attention from the girls at the bar. We’re just celebrating together, downing beers, and we’ve fallen into a round of reminiscing.

“Remember how we used to get into prank wars with UVM?” Carter asks.

“And Tuck got shoved into a trashcan?” Rhys continues.

Hudson quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, I don’t remember that.”

“This was before your time, Huddy,” Tuck proclaims, getting ready to tell the story with a triumphant air about him, as if a tale that ends with him being stuck in a trashcan makes him a great hero.

He begins, “One of the University of Vermont guys snuck over and drew a giant dick on Rhys’s motorcycle, so I wanted to get back at them. I ordered an actual full-body black bear costume, dressed up in it, and hid behind a tree near the team’s house in Burlington to jump out and scare them at night as they walked past. And I did. Got an incredible jump scare out of them. I mean, imagine, you’re walking down the street, and a fucking bear jumps out of nowhere and roars at you.”

“Yeah, except after about three seconds, they were able to tell the difference between a bear and a guy in a cheap bear suit,” I say with a laugh.

“First of all, the suit wasn’t cheap,” Tuck replies. “But yeah, when they realized it was just me in a costume, they chased after me, caught me, then stuffed me in a trash can. Because of the suit, I couldn’t even move to get myself out. It was at night, so it took two hours before someone passed me who I could sweet talk into giving me a hand.”

Hudson’s shaking his head, but there’s a rare smile twitching on his lips. “Somehow none of this surprises me.”

“Remember when Tuck had that crazy allergic reaction to Hudson’s cat?” Sebastian brings up, drawing another round of laughs as we remember his puffy, red face.

“Uh, can we reminisce about something that I’m not the butt of?” Tuck says.

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