Page 137 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
After putting Sutton to bed, I stripped out of my suit and hit the bike in my home gym in the hope of banishing some of the energy buzzing through me.
I knew it was going to be pointless. It’s not post-win adrenaline I’m dealing with. It’s something I haven’t battled with in years.
Desire.
The sheets brush over my skin and I groan as I lie back against my pillows, my cock fully hard and aching.
For her.
Closing my eyes, I will my body to calm down.
Over the last few years, it’s become easier and easier to somewhat shut off this part of my brain. Sure, I still had needs, but I became used to taking care of them myself.
My life was hockey and Sutton; anything that fell outside of that just wasn’t important enough to be a focus of mine.
But then there was her…
She shattered everything I’d told myself.
Broke through the lies I’d forced myself to believe about what I wanted.
My cock jerks, resting on my stomach, as I think back to how close I came to kissing her right outside her father’s office.
All I could think about was her. Her sweet taste, her soft curves, her pretty pink pussy.
“Fuck,” I groan, my fingers sinking into my hair and tugging until a shot of pain races down my spine.
It doesn’t help.
My head is still full of her and my body…fuck, it craves hers.
Before I can stop myself, I reach toward my nightstand and grab my cell.
The fact she still hasn’t replied drives me to the brink of insanity.
She told me she accepted my apology to my face; I should be able to let it go now.
That was what that night was about.
Closure.
But I didn’t fucking get it.
I open Instagram and check her profile. As predicted, there is an image of her tonight proudly wearing my number and wishing us good look.
That’s basically all her profile is.
Hockey.
I may not know all that much about her, but it’s clear that hockey runs through her blood.
It makes me wonder what she was like as a kid. Was she like Sutton, giving her dad a detailed analysis of her performance after every game?
Did she play?
Hell, I don’t even know if she can skate.
There’s a selfish part of me that hopes she can’t so that I can be the one to teach her.
