by April Ryder
The whistle blew and the pack leapt forward. Pretty and the Marauders' jammer both approached, the latter hesitating as she looked for an opening. Pretty, however, bowled right up to the back of the pack and…screamed. An inhuman noise that could only be coming from the depths of hell escaped from the angelic demon's mouth. Everyone, the Marauders' blockers, their jammer, and even our blockers focused on covering their ears in any way we could to stop that terrible noise from assaulting our eardrums. Pretty took the opportunity to sail past. She scored a buttload of points by using the full two minutes her jam and when the ref told her the points wouldn't count and he threatened to ban her if she did that again, she threatened to make the sound again if he did any such thing. As a result the points stayed and Pretty remained on the bench for the rest of the game.
Pretty's stint as jammer had achieved what she had wanted: to gain points fast and to rattle the Marauders. We were all thankful—especially our eardrums—that she wouldn't going back on the rink.
Kilty stepped up to jam next. While Pretty's technique is raw and loud, Kilty's is subtle. Due to the noise in the sports centre and the distance we were from the jammers, I never knew exactly what Kilty said to her opponent. Whatever it was unsettled her as she shifted her weight from one skate to the other, her gaze flicking to Kilty and then away. She licked her lips several times before the whistle and even wiped her hands on her outfit as if they were covered in sweat.
After watching the two women work I wondered if I needed to come up with some special technique to throw the opposition off.
The whistle blew and Kilty left the other jammer in her figurative dust. Kilty was a fast skater, able to dart about and change direction suddenly. She did just that as she feinted right, then left, left further and then a sudden right when a gap opened, and she slipped through the pack and off to score points.
I bounced the other jammer off my hip when she dared try to pass me. It wasn't until after I realised it had been one of the girls who had sandwiched me earlier. Not the one I had punched, but at least now I felt we were even.
With mere minutes left until the final whistle, Pretty called a timeout. We coasted back to the bench and huddled around our brave leader, eager to hear her plan. It would be tough but if we won the next couple of jams, we could win. I hoped like hell that our last two jammers would be Kilty and the Ponytail Puller. They were two of our best.
Those of us who had come off the rink panted, gasping for air as we tried to recover from the last jam, while Pretty eyed us all individually.
"Ponytail," she finally said and we sighed in collective relief at the first choice.
Pretty's gaze settled on Kilty but the perennial prankster shook her head. "My Achilles tendon is playing up. I can't do it in that short a time."
"Shit," someone muttered.
"What about Skids?" Kilty suggested.
Pretty nodded. "Don't fuck up," she said as the timeout ended.
At least they let me sit on the bench during Ponytail's jam. I wasn't sure my panting was due to the workout or panic, but it gave me some time to sit back and watch the opposition. Not that I knew what the fuck I was going to do.
Luckily for us Ponytail raced past the pack several times during her jam. That wasn't so lucky for me, as it meant the win was riding on my shoulders.
Fuck.
Ponytail and I skated past each other. She handed over the helmet cover that marked me as the jammer and I quickly shoved it over my helmet.
My opponent turned out to be the girl I had punched earlier. I tried to ignore her but she had other ideas as we vied for the perfect starting spot.
"I slept with your boyfriend," she said.
"You've already used that one," I told her.
She snorted and we both stared ahead at the pack, our muscles tense.
Just as the ref inhaled before blowing on his whistle, I glanced down at my opponent's feet and asked, "Did you just pee yourself?"
"Huh?" she said as the whistle went and I rocketed away.
I didn't have time to wait for a gap like Kilty, so I decided to put my mass to good use and pinballed between the blockers until I emerged ahead of them. I stumbled coming out but regained my footing and sped away. I repeated my technique as many times as I could and at the last lap I knew I had mere seconds to push through that final time before the whistle trilled.
I hit them at speed, and just like Rick skittled them. Marauders and Slammers went flying on either side of me as I finished up ahead of them, on my butt after completing an impromptu forward roll on the rink, just as the whistle signalled the end of the derby.
The crowd went fucken nuts! My teammates even more so as they rushed over and dog-piled on me. Still, the celebration was premature. Because I had forced my own teammates out of the rink it meant we also lost points. It was a nail-biting five minutes while we waited for the refs to decide what points went where.
We all turned to the rink-side commentators, waiting—in the most deafening silence I've ever heard in my life—for them to declare the winner.
"Well this is the closest derby I've ever seen," the guy said. I wasn't keen to hear his commentary, just the results.
"Get to the point, Kev," his colleague told him. Thank God.
"Settle, settle," he said but glanced at the piece of paper he had been handed and finally read the result. "The winner, by one point is…the Selby Slammers!"
Celebrations started early. Someone brought in a carton of beer. It didn't matter that I didn't like beer. I was still flying high from the win. Our early celebration was time limited as we all wanted to get back out and watch the guys win their game. Many of us took showers with our bottles of beer. I was honoured to be allowed use of the disabled access shower. Sadly I could not partake in Jake the Shower's services, but I did find a use for the rest of my beer. Apparently it's good for your hair.
We spilled out of the changing room and found seats at the front. Some of the crowd had changed out while we were toasting our success and more beer—this time in plastic cups—was handed around. I declined. The last thing I wanted to do was puke on the rink in front of my derby sisters and the hunky guys.
The home side skated onto the rink and we stamped and cheered along with the crowd. Kilty wolf-whistled, almost deafening me when Adam appeared. The rest of the girls joined in as the players approached for their second lap. Jake peeled off from the group and slowed enough to take my hand and kiss it.
"For luck!" he called as he picked up the pace to rejoin his team.
Rick trailed behind. His ominous glare hit me like a brick and the silly grin I'd worn for Jake morphed into a spiteful tongue poke. What can I say, the Dick brings out the worst in me.
The visiting side took to the rink and the game started. It soon became clear that this would be a close match. I didn't know much about hockey but even I could see that our guys were in trouble. Rick had no trouble gaining the puck, but the forwards were having a more difficult time keeping it. Add to that every time Rick looked at Jake, two men were marking him. Rick had no choice but to pass the puck to the other guys on the team. By half-time no points had been scored.
Half-time ended with the shrill tweet of the whistle. I automatically passed the cups of beer down as they were handed to me. Not one of us said a word as we sipped our drinks—Coke for me—and watched in awe as the players returned to the rink. The tension was so thick you could spread it on a pancake with cream.
Jake and Rick brushed against each other, their bodies taut and tightly wound, ready to snap at any moment. I might have imagined Rick's growl, but seeing him radiate such pure primal energy made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"This isn't good," I murmured.
"They're going to kill each other," Kilty agreed.
It took ten minutes before they tried. Jake, fed up with not seeing any action, decided to take matters into his own hands—or more accurately out of Rick's.
"Oh my fucking God," I breathed.
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All I could do was watch as Jake dropped back on the rink and attempted to wrestle the puck from Rick. A member of his own team. For a moment it looked like Rick was going to let him, but a sudden change in body language from both men told me otherwise.
The barrier gave under my weight and ran out onto the rink as the two men laid into each other. I've never seen two grown men fight, other than on TV. This was real though. The blood coming from Jake's nose was real. The stick breaking over Rick's back was real and the crowd chanting for more was sickeningly real.
"Stop it!" I yelled, horrified at the brutality of it all, that two passionate men could devolve into such mindless, violent creatures. Well, I kind of expected it from Rick—but not Jake!
Of course they didn't listen.
"I said stop it!" I screamed and kicked.
My toe connected with something hard and I gasped when Rick's gaze turned my way. At least I had his attention. Or was it because I had distracted him and now Jake was taking advantage? Dammit!
I kicked again and this time two sets of anger-filled eyes settled on me.
"You kicked me?" Jake asked, confused, and in my imagination he sounded betrayed.
"She kicked me too," Rick said, not blinking once.
I was surprised that had worked but quickly plonked my fists on my ample hips and glared back. "Yeah I did, and I'll do it again if you don't quit fighting. What are you, five? You're both on the same team for fuck's sake. Do you think a scout is going to want guys who fight on the—"
Jake pointed an accusatory finger at Rick and interrupted me. "This is his fault."
"I didn't tell you to hit me."
"No he didn't," I agreed as I got between them, just in case they got any funny ideas to start fighting again. "Let's just take a break and a deep breath and calm down."
I could feel them glaring at each other over my head but that was fine, at least they were keeping their arms and legs to themselves. It took several breaths—angry air out, calm air in—for the intensity in Jake's eyes to waver. I couldn't see Rick as he was behind me, but figured he was letting it out as well.
There was something dizzying about being between two men who had just tried to violently rip each other a part. I think the masculinity was getting to me. I really needed to spend a long time in Shawn the Shower when I got home tonight. This was too much manliness for a woman to take.
"Okay, now kiss and make up—I mean shake hands and…yeah."
A grunt tinged with what I decided to be amusement told me Rick had done like Elsa and let it go. I briefly wondered if he'd seen that movie with his daughter, but the thought unsettled me so I quashed it.
"It's okay, Princess," Jake said softly. "I…overreacted."
I nodded and stepped aside so the two men could settle their grievance in a more civilised manner. You know I really should have seen this coming. I don't know what they said to each other, but one moment Jake's on his feet and the next he's flat on his back with more blood coming out of his nose.
"Jake!" I yelled and dropped to my knees. As if that was the cue they needed, the guys from the St. John's ambulance rushed over. I was gently moved aside so they could assess and administer first aid.
Red was all I saw as I pushed my way through the crowd that had spilled onto the rink and tracked down my prey. He had his back to me as he walked away.
Without thinking—it seems to happen a lot—I grabbed the Dick by his arm and yanked hard. The asshole barely moved but he did at least acknowledge me. With a grunt. Of course.
"What the what?" I demanded as I walked around and stared him down. When he looked away I almost fell over, I was that surprised.
I tried again, "Aren't you going to say something?"
He was silent for so long that I'd opened my mouth when he finally spoke.
"I was right."
"Right about what?"
"I did do something I'd regret."
My brow furrowed at his response. Before I could ask him to elaborate on whether he meant hitting his teammate or something else, Rick skated away from me…
Kilty appeared at my side and said, "Your boyfriend is asking for you."
"Huh?"
"Jake?" she said. "Dark hair, killer smile, calls you Princess. Remember him?"
"Oh, him. He's not my boyfriend."
"He's not?"
"He's…" I started but trailed off. What was Jake? The guy who took me out to dinner and kissed me senseless? A hot guy whose pants I want to remove and do illicit things to and with?
"Well whatever he is, he's asking for you."
I followed Kilty to the stretcher Jake sat on at the side of the rink. She left us alone and Jake waved the St. John's workers away.
"H-how are you?" I asked, suddenly shy.
"I'll live," he said and tried to smile. His lip was split and I noticed him wince.
"So are they taking you to the hospital?"
"No. I can go home as long as someone is there to keep an eye on me. But I don't have anyone except…you."
"Oh," I said. "Oh. Well, I guess you could come home with me then. If you want."
This time he smiled without showing pain. What a brave man. "I'd like that."
"Oh, wait! What about the match?" I asked, suddenly remembering we were in a sports centre in the middle of a game of inline hockey.
"As much as I want to finish the game, I can't," he said, and this time look of anguish on his face had nothing to do with physical pain. "That bastard made sure of it."
There was nothing I could say to alleviate that hurt. He was right. Not only had Rick cowardly punched him, he had ruined Jake's chances of playing for the national team. What I could do was take Jake home and look after him. I cautiously took his face in my hands and gently pressed my lips to his. It wasn't as magical as it had been in front of the restaurant, but it was sweet and comforting and all I had to give while we were in a room surrounded by his and my teammates and a slightly boozed-up crowd.
Seeing as I can't drive, we left his car at the sports centre and took a taxi back to my apartment. Paul was fortunately out, although at this point I didn't really care where he was. Tomorrow I would find him and turn down his proposal. The few weeks we had spent apart was more than enough to show me we wouldn't work. We had never worked. I could now see it was familiarity and routine that had kept us together. Not love. And let's be clear, while I don't love Jake, I do feel something for him—even if it was a feeling of wanting to rip his clothes off and lick him over—it was more than what I had ever felt for Paul. And that's a good enough start for me.
"Nice place," Jake said. "Do you live here alone?"
"I do now."
"That ex-fiancé you mentioned?"
"He's gone," I confirmed. "Now, let's get you out of these clothes. Dried blood is not a good look."
Jake scowled at the reminder of what had just happened. If he and Rick hadn't fought, he might have had another chance with the scout. But since they had, I doubt another scout would ever look at him.
"You're not getting naked," I pointed out.
He laughed. "Ah Princess, you only have to ask."
I grinned, pleased with myself for successfully taking his mind off his troubles and for getting a free show. It was totally worth it. Let me tell you, his smile isn't the only perfect part of his body.
"Oh my fucking God…"
=^.^=
Four Skid Marks
=^.^=
I can't remember how to close my mouth. I'm fairly certain it was something I was capable of doing before, but now my brain seems unable to delegate resources to accomplishing this simple task. Why is my brain incapable of carrying out the simplest of tasks? Well, it's preoccupied right now. What has it preoccupied is also the reason why my mouth is hanging open. What, I hear you ask, has enough power to render a young woman such as myself into the almost drooling and mouth-wide-open mess she has become? That would be the stunning piece of man flesh standing before me in all its naked gl
ory. AKA: Jake.
"Oh my fucking God."
"You said that already," the man in question told me—nakedly.
As if the dulcet tones of his perfect voice had broken me free of his manly spell, the ability to function like a normal human being returned. I quickly shut my gaping hole, sucked back the dribble I'd made, and wiped a sleeve across the lower half of my face. Who knows how far that sucker went!
"Well I'm naked," he said pointing out the obvious.
"Yes," I said and coughed to clear the husky sound that had come from my throat. "Yes, you are."
He smiled and this time the movement of muscles in his face didn't seem to hurt him. I was going to kill the Dick for hurting Jake and marring his pretty face. That last punch had been unnecessary. Even I had seen the anger flash in his eyes.
"Poor baby," I murmured.
"What?"
"Uh…did I say that out loud?"
Jake nodded and his eyes sparkled. Lust shone openly from them, making me swallow. Hard.
"Did you have something in mind?" he asked while taking a step toward me. "Princess?"
"I… uh," I muttered, unsure where I had been going with this. The closer he got to me, the harder it got to concentrate. Okay, I lied. I was concentrating on something. I pursed my lips, determined to say something, anything, but nothing came to mind. Well, okay I lied again. Something did come to mind but I was suddenly embarrassed.
Jake placed his fingertips under my chin and tilted my head back. I lost myself in those mesmerising eyes of his as he studied me like I did pancakes before I devoured them. How could his lips be so soft? I wondered as they moulded to mine.
Something squeaked. It might have been me but I didn't care. I had more important things on my mind. Like, where were his long yet sure fingers going and how could he be so gentle when all I wanted to do was rip my clothes off?
My top came off first, up and over my head. His movements were slow and seductive. My knickers were soaked from when he'd removed his clothes. There was imminent threat of flooding down there if this kept up. God, I hope it did.