Page 10 of Pucked Up

He squeezed around me, his ass more talented than half the guys on my beer league team. The grip of him around me was just enough that I couldn’t hold it back any longer. My head thudded against the headboard, my eyes slamming shut as I let go. I filled the condom with heavy pulses of come, so much that I was worried it was going to start dribbling out of the latex.

I still couldn’t speak, and my hearing waseclipsed by a heavy ringing that only allowed me to catch the last grunt he gave before he slammed down hard and spilled all over my chest.

And he’d done it untouched.

Idid that to him. My body, my cock. I’d pulled an orgasm out of him without him needing to touch himself to get off.

I felt high on that. It was even better than shooting my load inside him. Or, well, maybe not, but it was really fucking close. My breath was heaving in my chest still when he rolled off me, and after he stared at my fingers, which were twitching uselessly against the sheets, he pulled the condom off and tied the end before tossing it into the bin.

I made a mental note to leave a few extra dollars for the housekeeper who had to clean this mess up tomorrow.

Jean-Luc flopped on the mattress, his head near the foot of the bed, and he turned to look at me. I still couldn’t move, but my body was finally starting to relax.

“Are you hurt?”

I wanted to be insulted by the question, but his tone was genuine. It took me a moment to find the strength to shake my head. “I’m fine.” My words were raspy but clear, and he grinned again.

Fuck, I hated that little smile on his face.

Pushing up on his elbow, he stared at me—first at my dick, then at the mess he’d made, which stretched all the way up my chest. His smile turned a little dark and maybe even possessive. “I’d offer to wipethat up, but I think we both might need a shower after that.”

I managed a soft “ha!” and shook my head. “There’s not a chance in hell that shower’s accessible for me.”

He tilted his head to the side as he surveyed my body. “I can make it work.”

Before I could argue with him, he was in the bathroom, and then I heard the shower running. My chest went warm again. I didn’t want this. Ididn’t. I didn’t want my fucking hookup taking care of me.

Goddamn it!

So why was I sitting there twitching in anticipation of his strong arms lifting me up and doing what no one ever had before? He appeared back in the doorway, crossing the room with powerful strides, and he lifted me up into a bridal carry without asking.

I hated it. And for some reason—maybe in spite of him or maybe because it was him—I fucking loved it.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Oh God.

I was fucked.

CHAPTER

THREE

BODEN

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I tried for a smile, but I was pretty sure it was just a grimace full of teeth and irritation. Jacob, the Wolves’ owner, didn’t seem fazed. Not that he was ever fazed by my shitty attitude. I knew I was the biggest thorn in his ass, but fortunately for him, he was a paraplegic without much feeling in either butt cheek.

So he took it like a champ, which only served to piss me off more.

My irritation was high that morning because I knew he was about to drop some bomb on us about the new coach.

I hated change, but I could usually roll with it when I had enough time to adjust. Hearing that Brad, our current coach, was leaving hadn’t been much of a surprise. He’d been making noise about moving to Spain for a while now, and I’d been preparing myself for the shift in leadership.

And that was fine, really. Jacob was a wheelchair user, so he understood what we needed as a team. But Jacob was also a rich asshole disconnected from reality. Add that to the fact that the Wolves were basically beer league hockey—the only team that would touch me with a ten-foot pole after torching my reputation in Beijing—and people forgot to care that we mattered.

So I didn’t have high hopes when I wheeled my tired ass into the meeting room to wait for this announcement. I felt completely on my own.

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