Forever Pucked (Pucked 4)

Alex doesn’t need to know that though, and any kind of ego stroke, especially after losing the last two games, is good for his pre-game morale.

“That’s right. Only for me, baby.”

“You and Super MC. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Uh-huh. I love you, Violet.”

He hangs up before I can respond, likely because he’s jacking off.

-&-

Just like he asked, I stop by the locker room before settling into my front row seat at center ice, and as he said, the security dudes are expecting me. Of course, they aren’t expecting Charlene, Lily, and Sunny to be tagging along. And neither is Alex.

Instead of it being him and me, there are suddenly eight of us: four smelly, horny hockey boys—because no matter how much they wash their jerseys and pads, they always smell like the inside of a hockey bag—and four equally horned-up women.

The potential for a serious mouth fuck is thwarted by the awkwardness of too many witnesses, at least for me, but it doesn’t seem to stop Balls and Lily from trying to get each other off with their clothes on. I settle for a less aggressive, mini mouth fuck with promises of more later, when no one is watching or listening—and Lily isn’t moaning right beside me.

Buck has to pry Balls off her so he can finish getting ready. He’s all pads and no jersey, and it’s actually pretty entertaining. Even with Buck attached to his back, he won’t leave Lily alone.

“You really are a Horny Nut Sac, aren’t you?” I ask.

He grins, possibly at my commentary, but doesn’t look my way at all. Instead he rubs Lily’s bottom lip with his thumb. “What do you say to no sleep tonight, luscious?”

“Sounds like fun.” She bites his thumb.

“Which we all know is code for sex. Okay, let’s go, Balls. We have a game to play before you can get her naked.” Buck is only successful because Lily steps back and Sunny shuffles Lily behind her, hiding her from view. That seems to break Randy out of his trance, so they’re able to corral him back into the locker room.

“Are you two planning to find a bathroom to screw in after the game?” I ask Lily.

I’m only kind of joking. Lily and Randy seem to have a strange affinity for getting it on in bathrooms, even when there are perfectly good bedrooms available.

“Depends on whether Randy can wait until we get back to his place tonight.” Lily seems strangely serious.

We make our way through the stadium to our awesome seats. My mom and Sidney, my stepdad, are already there, talking to a couple. Actually, Sidney’s doing all the talking while my mom and the other woman stare at him. Sidney always knows someone, being a scout and Buck’s dad and all. We settle into our seats and order drinks and snacks.

The games have become a lot more fun now that we’re all dating these super-hot hockey players and attend them together. I can’t believe I used to read books while they played. Now I can’t take my eyes off the action.

“I hope they win tonight,” Sunny says from my left, sipping what looks like juice. Along with not eating animals, Sunny doesn’t like beer. Not that one is related to the other in any way.

Chicago needs a win to get some morale back. They lost against Buffalo when Lance got a five-minute penalty, leaving them down a player in the final period of the game. Buffalo scored not one, but two goals during that time, and Chicago never recovered the lead. They lost the game before that as well, but there wasn’t a penalty to blame it on, just some sloppy playing and chippy behavior.

Alex has been staying out of the penalty box for the most part, but I can see his frustration on the ice when things aren’t going the way he’d like. It’s tough after taking home the Cup; the expectation of repeating the previous season is unreasonable, but they still want the glory. Making it to the finals last season means they had a shorter off-season and less time to recover, which put them at a disadvantage this season right from the start.

Add to that a change in team trainer—Tash, who had been training the guys for the past two years, was recently replaced by a guy named Evan Smart—and it’s been a rough season.

The Chicago crowd goes crazy when the team takes the ice. Women scream the names of the players they want to get naked with. Some girl a few rows back starts bellowing Ballistic’s name. Lily, who’s managed to convert him from a serial player into a one-vagina man, turns to check out the yodeler. She pales and coughs out an expletive, so I turn around to see what’s going on.

There’s a blond chick dressed in very little, considering we’re in a cold arena surrounded by ice, and she’s holding up a homemade sign. It looks like something I might’ve made in junior high. A selfie of her and Randy, in color, takes up half the posterboard. It’s captioned with: I WANT TO GET BALLED BY BALLISTIC AGAIN!