Page 18 of Big Pucking Deal
“I’m going to come again,” I tell him and it’s a plea not to stop.
My heart pounds and a flutter swirls in my belly just as Joaquín hisses. Harder, faster, deeper he goes until I finally let go. My body tenses and he says, “Shit yes,” but it sounds garbled like he’s underwater.
We ride out the high together and when we land, our bodies are coated with sweat and the air is thick with the scent of us.
My chest heaves for precious air and Jo rolls over, falling to his back with a plop.
“You okay, Bunny?”
I close my eyes and smile. “Better than okay.”
I turn my head to look at him. His face, his eyes, his smell, everything, and it feels like I’m right where I belong.
THE TEAMstretches on the ice, preparing for the game to start, and I watch as the dance team makes their way through the stands. They stop and take pictures with fans, young and old. Little boys and little girls light up when Jolie gives them attention, but the ones that get me are the assholes who put their hands all over her. She poses and smiles while I sit here cracking my knuckles like it’s some dude's face.
“Yo, Santos,” I hear my name shouted from across the ice. “Are you going to come play or are you going to stare at the dancers asses all night?”
I look over and see a few guys staring back at me. I snarl at them and stand up, making my way over to the bench where our coach, Cade “The Hammer” Hamlin, stands, waiting to give us the pre-game speech. Speech is an understatement. He is basically going to tell us to leave our asses on the ice and get the win
The arena begins to fill up and all through coaches talk, my eyes wander around, searching for Jolie and feeling my blood boil with each guy who gets a little too close and hugs just a little too tight. I take that anger and use it to fuel me.
The puck drops and I immediately jump on defense. My jaw is clenched and smoke billows from my nostrils. A breakaway heads my way and my blades dig into the ice when I take off. My stick moves side to side, just waiting for my window to blockthe shot. My goalie dances from one end of the net to the other, looking for the slap.
The opponent draws closer and I can’t wait any longer. I speed in his direction and check him against the glass. The crowd goes wild and the referee blows his whistle, stopping game play and sending me to the bench. I speed over and jump the boards and look at Hammer who shoots fire from his eyes at me.
I’m only slightly watching what’s happening in front of me, but mostly I keep my eyes on Jo as her team makes their way through the stands. I want to pull her into my arms and make certain that every douchebag in here knows she is mine. Jordan included.
My two minutes in the penalty box ends, and I fly out onto the ice, ready to attack and defend. Play continues and I become distracted when I spot a dude getting handsy from the corner of my eye. His hand falls to Jolie’s ass and when she tries to scoot away, he squeezes it.
“Fucker,” I growl and power over the ice, totally forgetting about anything other than getting to her.
I slam against the boards and pound on the glass, grabbing the attention of curious fans.
“Santos. What the fuck?” Hammer yells, but all I can see is red.
I spit my mouthguard out and bang again. “Get your hands off her, fucker!” Jolie and the guy turn around and I slam my fists even harder. “I’m going to murder you, you piece of shit.”
A linesman blows his whistle and a teammate tries to pull me away, but I throw my elbows, pushing them off of me.
No one on the ice is playing. They all watch me as I continue my tirade. Jolie’s eyes are wide and the drunk bastard stumbles down the stairs to fire back at me. I take my stick and start slamming it against the glass, trying to break through the tempered layers.
Whistles keep sounding and I swing my arm, knocking someone to the ground.
“You’re done,” a voice shouts and I turn to see a referee getting assistance to stand.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out of here. I’m gonna kick your ass, kid,” Hammer roars at me, and I finally give up.
I stomp my skates out of the arena and head down the tunnel to the locker, fans booing me as I go. I walk into the locker room and start throwing my pads off, slamming them against the wall when I launch them. I plop down on my chair and start yanking at the laces on my skates. My impatience only serves to make them tighter and more difficult to remove.
“What the hell was that all about?” A voice booms from the doorway.
I look up and see Jordan walking in, fists balled up and hanging at his side.
“There was some fucker who had his hands all over Jo’s ass. He was grabbing it and she tried to get away, but he just squeezed her harder,” I explain.
“And you thought it fell on you to defend her to the point that you get ejected?”
“You bet your ass. I’m not going to let some asshole put his hands all over my girl. Tha–”
