Page 63 of Dirty Puck

Coach arranged our flight home for right after the game, leaving us just enough time to shower and head back to the hotel to grab our bags before hopping the bus for the airport. I couldn’t wait to get back home. I wanted to see my mom, I looked forward to reading Benny a story, and my dick ached to be inside Bree again. That woman had the most addictive pussy—like crack. But the best part was when I finished fucking her crack pussy, we’d lie in bed talking about our day. The big stuff and the little shit most people wouldn’t bother with.

Bree sent a text to my phone. It just said:Great game.

She’d watched me play.

Why’d that feel so good to know she watched me play?

I sat there with a stupid grin on my face staring at my phone screen when Antonov dropped down in the seat next to me.

“Smiling at your phone. Not something I’m used to seeing from your grumpy pus.”

“I’m rarely grumpy. I just don’t put up with bullshit.”

He snickered. “Fair enough. So what brought on this rogue smile?”

“It’s just a text from Bree. She watched the game.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t see this thing lasting between the two of you.”

“I know a good woman when I meet one,” I replied.

“It’s more than that. We all see it. Truthfully, I’m a bit jealous that the beautiful Bree picked you—agoalie.”

Okay, enough.I shoved my hand in his face to shut him up. He laughed while pushing it away.

“Just know,” he finished, “when you’re done with her, she has a long line of suitors to choose from.”

“Go,” I blurted out. The last thing I wanted to do was think about ending this thing with Bree. For one, it meant my mom—shit, I’d never be ready to finish that thought. And then to not have Benny around as often or share Bree’s friendship with one of my teammates while she fucked him and not me any longer?

I hated that.

Ifucked Bree. No other man. Somehow, I’d have to find a way to stretch out this arrangement. There had to be something else she wanted out of life.

Given the hour and that we’d played our asses off tonight, just like the rest of the men, I closed my eyes, drifting off until we were woken up to land.

Once on the ground, I caught a ride home from Jones. Bree kept the porch light on for me. For security, I had lights hooked up to motion sensors and cameras recording twenty-four/seven, but I liked the idea of having the porch light on for me.

After unlocking the door, I stepped into the stillness of the house, my bag slung over my shoulder. I locked up behind me, reset the alarm, and let out a long, quiet sigh. Home. This kind of peace only came from being in my own space. And the best part? I’d be sleeping in my own bed tonight.

Before heading upstairs, I made my way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to find something to snack on, but I didn’t have to look. Bree had an aluminum pan on the top shelf—my height—with heating instructions taped to the top for reheating in the air fryer.

Following her directions, once the fryer beeped to alert me my food was ready, I uncapped a bottle of Modelo, tucking in at the island bar to enjoy beef stew over mashed potatoes.

No restaurant compared to a homecooked meal made by someone who not only knew how to cook, but enjoyed it.

I savored every bite, then finished off my beer and slid off my stool. After rinsing the bottle and dropping it into the recycling bin under the sink, I scraped the pan, loaded my fork into the dishwasher, and headed upstairs.

Bree slept, only taking up her half of the bed, on her belly with her knee cocked out from under the blankets.

Quietly as possible, I toed off my shoes and undressed down to my boxer briefs then walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I slid into bed, Bree rolled over, eyes still closed, kissed my cheek, and said, “Glad you’re home.” Then she snuggled into me and fell back asleep.

When I woke the next morning, the bed was empty. Bree had kept the curtains drawn. Not going to lie, I’d been hoping for agood morningfuck, but with today being Monday, Benny would’ve gone to school. Consistency in his schedule was crucial for him. When Bree laid it out for me, she’d said he needed things he could rely on and that better helped him deal when unexpected things popped up, like them moving in with me. It made perfect sense.

The clock read 11:00a.m.I’d slept the morning away. When I got downstairs, Bree was in the kitchen at the stove. I walked over to her, kissing the side of her head, and looked down in the pot.

“Thanks for dinner last night,” I said and she turned to smile at me.

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