Page 106 of The Puck Contract

The world around me contracts to this single moment, to the pleasure so intense it borders on pain. The best kind.

A single guttural sound manages to break through, from deep inside Groover’s throat as the hand still working my cock looses its rhythm. He drives up into me one final time, holding me firmly in place with other hand, as he pulses inside me. I can feel each throb even through the condom, his cock twitching with each wave of his orgasm.

I barely register when we both stop moving.

We stay frozen like that, connected in the most intimate way possible, both trying to remember how to breathe. When he finally eases me off him, I wince at the sudden emptiness, at the unfamiliar soreness already making itself known.

He doesn't let me go far, though. As soon as he's disposed of the condom, he pulls me back against his chest, arms wrapping around me like he's afraid I might disappear.

"That was..." he starts, then shakes his head, apparently at a loss for words.

"Yeah," I say, understanding completely. "It really was."

We lie there in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin, my head tucked under his chin. I can hear his heartbeat, still slightly elevated but gradually slowing to its normal rhythm.

"You okay?" he asks eventually, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Any regrets?"

I give myself a moment to take mental inventory of my body and emotions. There's soreness, yes, and a strange new awareness of muscles I didn't know I had. But there's also a bone-deep satisfaction, a sense of rightness that I've never experienced before.

“Maybe one,” I finally say.

It’s hard to stop myself from laughing as Groover backs his head so hard it hits the headboard, eyes searching mine with concerned urgency. “What is it?”

I cut my act momentarily. I’ve always been a shit liar anyway. “I kind of regret waiting this long.”

Groover manages to deflate his chest, roll his eyes and gently smack my shoulder all at the same time. “Try not to give me a heart attack.”

I close my eyes and rest my head on his chest again, smile tugging at my lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

CHAPTER 29

GROOVER

HOT WATER POUNDS against my shoulders, steam rising around me in a thick cloud that muffles the sounds of the nearly empty locker room. Most of the team has already cleared out, rushing to celebrate our win against the Bruins.

My goal in the second period was pure luck—a deflection off a defender's skate that just happened to find the back of the net. But that assist to Petrov in the third? That was fucking beautiful, if I do say so myself.

I grin, tilting my face up to the spray. Coach called it "textbook perfection." The crowd went wild. And Mateo—

My grin widens. Mateo was in the stands wearing my jersey. Backward.

I let out a satisfied sigh.

I've never been happier.

The sound of the locker room door opening pulls me from my thoughts. I assume it's one of the equipment guys comingback for something, until I hear familiar voices echoing off the tiles.

"I'm telling you, that was the cleanest one-timer I've seen all season." Becker's voice, slightly slurred already. Must have started celebrating early.

"You say that every game." Wall's response is dry as dust.

"Because I'm consistently amazed by my own talent."

I'm about to call out to them when Wall's next words freeze me in place.

"So what's the deal with Grooves? Contract's almost up, right?"

My stomach drops so fast I'm surprised it doesn't hit the shower drain. I hold perfectly still, water cascading over my shoulders.

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