Page 170 of Pucking Around

Mars is muttering curses and I’m about to scream.

“I’m coming,” I cry out. “Cay—baby—” But I can’t hold on, can’t stave it off. The orgasm comes crashing through me and then I’m pulsing around my guys, strangling their cocks, my core humming as it contracts over and over. I’m boneless, my body melting against Mars as he cries out his release, his hot seed pumping into my greedy cunt.

“Almost—fucking—there—” Caleb pants, jerking his hips against me until he’s crying out, his cum filling my ass.

I moan as I chase that perfect feeling of being so full. The high of my orgasm is at its peak. The only thing left is to come floating down. Caleb pulls out of me and staggers back against the tiled wall, his chest heaving as he recovers his breath.

“Help me,” Mars mutters. He’s such a mess, he can’t safely get me down.

Caleb steps forward, hands on my hips, and they both lift me as they set me on my feet. I sway like a seagrass, feeling such heat and emptiness throbbing between my legs. They clean me up, Caleb turning off the water, as Mars wraps me in a bathrobe. Picking me up in his arms, he carries me to Jake’s big bed. We all fall into it, Mars and Caleb naked to either side of me, my wet hair fanning out against the pillow that smells like Jake.

“Well, Mars?” Caleb says on a breath. “You done pretending you don’t like sharing her?”

A sleepy smile tips my lips as I glance up, gazing into Ilmari’s handsome face.

“Yes,” he mutters.

My heart flutters and I curl up against him, my face pressed against his warm skin.

“Good,” Caleb replies on a tired sigh. “Stick with us, Kinnunen. Your place is here now.”

I don’t know if Ilmari responds. I’m too tired and blissed out to stay awake a moment longer.

74

Game day and I’m on fucking fire! Home barn advantage means the Jacksonville crowd is roaring. Chants of “Duuuuuval” fill the air as the Rays slice up the ice.

I’ve already made one goal and one assist. As a defenseman known for grinding guys into the boards, shots on goal are rare for me. But I saw an opening in the second period and I took it all the way to the net. My assist was a lucky open shot to Sully at the top of the third. He put it right through the five-hole. The Panthers goalie didn’t even know what hit him.

Two minutes left in this game and we’re up by two. The Panthers are giving it everything, but our offense is playing stronger than ever. All the action is down at their zone. Which is great for us because Mars is still out of the net. His big return game is Friday night.

Focus. Pass the puck. Keep bringing the heat.

Novy and I are a great pair. He’s a fast skater and hard as nails. He pounds number 15 into the boards, shooting the puck across to me. I work fast, shooting it down the ice to Langley. But then a huge, Panthers D-man comes slamming into him, checking him down to the ice with a brutal crunch.

Seeing red, I surge forward off my line, taking the fight to him. We lock shoulders, grunting as we bat at the puck between our feet. I bite down on my mouth guard, groaning as I give him an almighty shove, working myself and the puck free.

Just as I’m about to pass the puck up to Sully, their other D-man covers him, forcing him back. Making an instinctual decision, I dart left towards center, taking the puck with me. I’m looking for someone—anyone—to pass it to. But the tables have turned, and all my forwards have turned into defensemen, battling the Panthers back to clear my way.

It happens in seconds. I skate right down the slot, the ice beneath my feet turning blue. Any closer and I’ll be giving the goalie a kiss. I feel the rush of guys surging behind me. I’m gonna get checked into this goalie. And then I’ll have a pile of Panthers on me, gloves off, punching me bloody.

Rule number one in Hockey: never touch the goalie.

In a panic, I spray ice to stop and fake right, darting left to clear the net. With a flick of my stick, I send the puck into the corner of the net just as the Panthers D-man slams into his own goalie, skating too fast to stop in time.

The cherry lights up, the sirens blast, and the arena erupts in cheers as I hear Bruno Mars singing “Uptown Funk” over the surround sound for the second time tonight. That’s my song. The song they play when I score a goal.

The team skates in, surrounding me. They’re all talking at once, slamming my pads and cheering me on. I’m so high on adrenaline, I’m shaking like a leaf. But I’ve got to focus. One minute left in this game.

The coach calls for the last shift change, and I dart off the ice with Novy, dropping down to the bench to the cheers of the crowd pounding on the plexiglass behind me. The other defensemen on the bench all pat my back and congratulate me. It’s rare to have such an offense-forward game. I’m not used to the attention.

I watch the last thirty seconds play out, the Panthers scrapping for one more shot on goal. But it won’t matter. We’ve won. I take my helmet off and grab a water bottle, squeezing it over my head, letting the ice-cold water cool the fire in my blood.

Glancing down the bench, I see Caleb standing in the corner, his arms crossed, grinning at me. I know he’s impressed. Hell, I’ve impressed myself.

The buzzer goes off to end the game, and the Rays fans erupt. I ride my high all the way to the locker room as the guys spray me with beer and Sully gives me the game puck. Coach Johnson drags me out of the showers to do press and I’m still humming.

All the while, I’m looking everywhere forher.

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