Wanna Puck?

by Layla Valentine

  He flashed a happy grin over his shoulder and led me down two carpeted steps into a large circular room which attached to two other rooms through high, open arches.

  The ceiling was a glass dome, curved up to take in the night sky. The far half of the room was also mostly glass, tall windows and doors between twisted pillars. Long, curved couches sat in the center, illuminated by a chandelier which seemed to hang in thin hair. After a moment, I found the transparent lines which held it in place, but the illusion was magical.

  “This is my favorite room,” he sighed happily. “It’s the first one I put any kind of real effort into. Took me weeks to find these couches, and this coffee table? Pure Caspian mother-of-pearl.”

  “Is Caspian mother-of-pearl particularly good?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but it was like twice as expensive as the normal stuff,” he laughed.

  “Then we’ll say it’s the best and forget about it.” I grinned, clinking my glass to his.

  The couch was a little too firm, and the calfskin cover was just a little too squeaky, but the eager light shining from Joel’s eyes as he gauged my reaction made me soften to it.

  “Oh, this is glorious,” I exclaimed, petting the couch. “Absolutely stunning.”

  “Just like you,” he said, raising an eyebrow in an exaggerated fashion.

  If he hadn’t obviously been playing, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to burst into laughter. When I did, he joined me, and our voices echoed through the observatory in ghostly harmony. I had never felt an emptier house. I took a long drink to adjust to the haunting sensation.

  “Do you mind if I record you?” I asked, pulling my voice recorder out of my purse.

  “Just don’t post it online, baby,” Joel said, flexing his biceps. “I don’t know if I could handle the stampede of women rushing to get them some.”

  I laughed at him again, rolling my eyes. “I mean for the interview, you nut.”

  “I know,” he said with a grin. “It’s fine; go ahead.”

  I shook my head at him in amused admonishment and pushed the button on the recorder.

  “All right, Mr. Palmer…”

  “Joel!”

  “Sorry! Joel. Tell me about your time on the team, specifically your relationship with Dante Drake.”

  “Ugh, that guy,” Joel said, flopping dramatically against the back of the couch. “Man, he didn’t like me from day one. I don’t know what I did to get on his bad side, but it must have been epic.”

  My chuckle held sympathy. Poor guy looked like he’d been yelled at by a super hero and Santa Claus all on the same day.

  “I mean, I expected the hazing.”

  “Hazing?” I asked, startled.

  “Well, yeah, you know. We’re guys and whatever; a team is sort of like a club—they have to, you know, test your mettle.”

  He spoke evenly, but something in his eyes looked hurt and confused.

  “What was it that you didn’t expect, then?” I asked.

  He shot me a sad look which made me want to go out and adopt every abandoned puppy in the world, including him. He sighed and took a drink.

  “I didn’t expect that they would take it that far,” he said morosely. “I mean, hanging my jock strap off the flag pole…yeah, ha-ha, whatever. You laugh that off. Hot peppers in my food, mouth guard in the toilet…I mean, I guess that’s bonding? I don’t know. I kept laughing it off. But then…”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as a muscle jumped in his jaw.

  “Someone overheard me on the phone with my mom. She’s back in California, so I don’t really see her much during the season. And I’m the baby, so of course she’s going to worry. Anyway, someone heard me telling her that I was perfectly safe, that I wasn’t going to get hurt on the ice—you know, all that stuff. This asshole—Jesus, it’s been a year; I still can’t think about it without getting pissed off.

  “Anyway, someone grabs my phone while I’m in the shower, finds her number, and calls her from the office. Like, she has that number saved as the office because she’s totally convinced that I’m going to get brutally injured or something.”

  He took another drink, glaring savagely at the wall.

  “So I get out of the shower and go about my day. Mom calls while I’m getting dressed, but I let it go to voicemail because I literally just talked to her an hour ago, right? Figured I’d call her back once I wasn’t around the guys. But then she called again and again and when I answered it, she was hysterical. Took me ten minutes to calm her down enough for her to tell me what happened.

  “One of those jackasses—and nobody will tell me who—called her and told her I’d been injured and was being airlifted to the hospital. They thought it was freaking funny.”

  He trembled, his strong hand tightening around his fragile glass. I gently took the drink from him and set it on the table, stroking his arm soothingly. He took a few deep breaths and calmed slightly, but his eyes were ringed with red.

  “Coach didn’t care. Drake didn’t care. They said it was innocent fun—can’t I take a joke? Maybe I’m not thick-skinned enough for the team.”

  He shot me a look of intense disbelief.

  “Dude, that’s my freaking mother. I don’t give a crap what you do to me, but she almost had a heart attack over it. I had to send my sister over to check on her. It was a big freaking deal, damn it.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, surprised that Dante hadn’t mentioned this little detail. “Yeah, that’s a huge deal.”

  “So, after I was sure she was okay, it was on. The next time one of them fucked with me, I laid into him. Hard. Broke his nose, fractured his wrist, bruised the hell out of his ribs. I don’t even remember…oh, the jersey incident. Yeah. Barbecue sauce on a jersey is funny because we’re all twelve, right?”

  He shook his head and sighed heavily.

  “I had no idea,” I said gently. “That sounds terrible.”

  “Yeah! It was! So I quit coming to practice, because screw that.”

  He shook his head in disgust and reached for his drink again. I almost didn’t want to ask what I had in mind, but I felt it would paint a clearer picture for me.

  “Dante tells me that you wreck your body with all the partying. Is that true?”

  Joel actually laughed, which both confused and relieved me.

  “You know, I did, for a minute, when the hazing got really bad. First time I puked on the ice, though, I knew I had to stop.”

  He laughed, his eyes lighting up with the memory.

  “Puked right on Drake, too. He took a personal interest in my torment after that. Before, he had just sort of been letting it happen, but after…man, he had a vendetta.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Okay, he’s team lead, right? What he would do is arrange it so that we’d all be doing something standard, and then the rest of the team would abandon me right when things started to heat up, always when I had the puck. I got the ever-loving hell kicked out of me—big guys crashing into me on all sides, shoving me into walls and stuff.”

  “Wow.” I was growing more disappointed with Drake every minute. “What happened after that?”

  “I confronted him,” Joel said, jutting his chin out. “I cornered him outside and called him on his shit. You know, that cocky son of a bitch didn’t even deny it. He just laughed at me. So, I took a swing at him. Coach came out after we’d been fighting for a minute, and we were both officially reprimanded. He told us to figure out a more constructive way to deal with our issues.”

  “And that’s where the wager comes in?” I asked.

  “Yep,” Joel said, his eyes steely with determination. “And I’m going to win.”

  Chapter 10

  Joel left to refill our drinks, leaving me alone in the palatial observatory. I tipped my head back to gaze at the stars, relaxing as well as I could against the uncomfortable cushions. I had allowed the flirtation to dissipate, I realized. I would have to do something about that as soon as h
e…

  “Wow,” he breathed from the doorway.

  I looked over at him and saw that he was gazing appreciatively at my curves, sprawled on the couch. Easier than expected, I thought.

  “Welcome back,” I said, biting my lip.

  “Yeah,” he said absently, walking toward me.

  He set the drinks down untouched on the table and sat close to me, gazing into my eyes with high-energy lust, every line of his body virtually vibrating with it. He cleared his throat and tentatively touched my bare shoulder.

  I turned toward him invitingly, touching his neck and running my thumb along his sharp jaw line.

  “Wasn’t there…something else you wanted to do tonight?” I asked, flashing him my bedroom eyes.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” he said, almost as if he were expecting me to tell him off.

  “Good,” I said, leaning forward.

  He caught his breath sharply as my lips touched his; Joel’s kiss was hot and filled with an almost adolescent excitement. His hands engaged clumsily at first, but he soon hit his stride, tugging me close and grabbing my ass. We tumbled off of the slippery couch and landed hard on the carpeted floor, colliding with the coffee table.

  I yelped in pain as my shoulder hit a brass leg, and he pulled away sheepishly.

  “My bed’s softer,” he offered.

  “I would hope so,” I laughed.

  “Let’s go,” he said with a grin as he helped me up.

  Back into the main house and up a grand flight of curved marble stairs, Joel brought me into a massive master suite. Double doors opened into an empty sitting room. The sitting room in turn opened into the main bedroom, which boasted a massive four-poster bed set atop a raised platform beneath inset lights surrounding a mirror on the ceiling.

  I caught a peek of the master bathroom through the half-open door, and it looked like it had been ripped from the pages of a hotel pamphlet…with the addition of a completely stereotypical bachelor disaster.

  I didn’t have time to notice anything else, as he lifted me off of my feet and twirled me toward the bed.

  I squealed, my inhibitions loosened by the alcohol, and kissed him. Laughing like giddy teenagers, we fell onto the bed, tangled in each other’s limbs. His hot kisses sent excitement tingling through my core as his frantically stroking hands readied my body.

  He tugged his T-shirt off and tossed it aside, revealing more tattoos on his chest. My fingers itched to trace them, but he had my mouth again, thrusting his tongue inside in a more-than-suggestive rhythm. Sucking and nibbling, I egged him on, until he was grinding into me, straining against his jeans.

  “Gotta have it,” he murmured against my mouth, making me laugh again.

  As he snaked out of his pants, I impatiently peeled out of my dress.

  “Show me what you got,” I challenged him as I fell back on the pillows.

  His eyes narrowed and he fell on me with a playful growl, taking my mouth once more with his demanding tongue thrusts. I opened to him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he plunged into me. I had expected a touch more foreplay, but he moved well enough to ease my discomfort in short order.

  With one hand, Joel raked my body from hip to breast, coming to rest on the soft mound, brushing his thumb over my erect nipple. Moaning, I arched into his thrusts as his touch sent waves of pleasure over my body to pool in my loins. He switched hands, giving attention to the other breast, never losing his momentum as he moved inside of me.

  Pressure built in my belly as I inched closer to bliss, but just as I began to tighten…

  “Oh, God!”

  With a groan of ecstasy, he emptied into me. A flash of annoyance blinded me for a brief moment, but passed quickly when I saw the embarrassment on his face.

  “It’s been a minute,” he explained lamely. “Give me two minutes and we’ll go again.”

  “Two minutes?” I asked dubiously.

  “Count ‘em,” he said, winking at me.

  He pulled out, walked over to a mini-fridge, and pulled out a sports drink. He offered me one wordlessly, and I accepted in kind. He tossed it through the air and I caught it, slightly taken aback.

  It wasn’t unpleasant; on the contrary, I was having a lot of fun. The sort of fun I’d actively sought out six or seven years ago—being one of the guys, with enough girl parts to partake in carnal pleasures. The nostalgia alone was enough to keep me there for round two.

  Still, I found myself missing Dante’s skill. The way he romanced my entire body, cleared my mind of conscious thought, pumped pleasure with that slow deliberation. Enticing. Teasing. Satisfying. Of course, I realized, I might just be fixating on that because I had been left raw and aching, poised precariously on the brink of release.

  Just as the little digital clock clicked over to the two-minute mark, Joel crawled back onto the bed.

  “Now,” he said, taking my drink. “Where were we?”

  “About half a second from coming,” I said wryly.

  “Mm, can’t leave you hanging,” he murmured, kissing me.

  He slid his hand between my thighs, his fingers exploring. He touched the hard nub and I moaned, grinding against him. Eagerly, he began to rub in fast strokes, increasing the ache without granting me release.

  “Fuck me,” I muttered against his mouth.

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  He slid inside, as hard and hot as the first time around. Pleasantly surprised and desperate for release, I arched against him and locked his legs with mine. Joel growled and bit my shoulder as I gyrated my hips, sliding around him, grinding on him, pleasuring myself with his body.

  “Oh, God, you’re good,” he gasped against my shoulder.

  “Don’t you dare let go yet,” I half-chuckled in his ear.

  He tensed and groaned, biting my shoulder again.

  The flash of pain was exactly what I needed. Riding from beneath, I quivered and shook, screaming my release. As my trembling legs released their hold, Joel began thrusting in earnest. Momentum created, I came again as he lifted my ankles over my head, diving deep into me.

  His colorful tattoos added a layer of aesthetic pleasure to the scene, reflected in the mirror overhead. It was odd, watching myself get fucked, but kind of erotic, too; I looked damn good naked, especially with a stallion like this on top of me.

  “Your turn,” he said breathlessly.

  He rolled off of me and lay on the bed, opening his arms. Momentarily satisfied, I decided to take my time. Teasing him with butterfly-light touches along his inner thigh and up his throbbing cock, I kissed his mouth. I kept my tongue to myself, not letting his in, flirting with his lips. He panted, lips quivering, and groped me demandingly. I laughed quietly at him.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asked.

  “Of course, darling. Why else would I be doing it?”

  His eyes darkened with need, and I laughed again. I wanted my mouth all over him—down his strong neck to his thick collarbone, over the wings inked across his chest, over his muscular pecs and hard nipples. His chest heaved lustily as I moved down over his cut abs, running my soft hands over his skin, brushing my breasts against his thighs. I teased around his cock, licking and kissing his hips and thighs.

  With a desperate groan, Joel tangled his fingers in my hair, guiding my head toward his glistening shaft. I flicked out my tongue, barely touching it, making him squirm and whimper. The hot breath from my mischievous little laugh made it jump, and I caught it between my lips. He moved his hips, sliding it over my tongue and down my throat, coating my mouth with our mingled erotic flavors.

  He was big, but not unmanageable; I swallowed him again and again, teasing his balls with my gentle touch. I tasted the peak in his arousal, heard his breath catch, and released him.

  “No,” he whined. “Why?”

  “Patience, grasshopper,” I said, licking my lips. “Patience.”

  “I’m not good at patience,” he said, his voice quivering.

 
I only laughed at him again and pulled him into my mouth. His legs shook around me as I slid my lips down to the hilt, undulating my tongue against him. He groaned, almost a shout, as I touched his sensitive skin again. I considered forcing him to pause again, but decided against it; I would show him mercy this time, as much as it pleased me to make him beg.

  He twitched and moaned, thrusting into my throat. I could feel the energy he was using on sheer restraint, and commended him for it with a twirl of my tongue around the swollen head.

  I tasted the peak again, felt him tense and tighten, heard his breath go quick and shallow. When he stopped breathing entirely, I took him all the way, letting his hot seed spill down my throat as he groaned and bucked beneath me. Something about making a man lose his mind like that got me going like nothing else, and I was slick and ready for him after he was spent.

  He pulled me up to lay my head on his shoulder and stroke me with shaking hands as he caught his breath.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed.

  “You’re welcome,” I said with a grin.

  His hand moved from my shoulder to my breast, and he began to play with my nipple, sending shocks of electricity down to where I was swollen and wet, thirsty for more. I encouraged him with body and voice, and soon he rolled over to invite his mouth to the party.

  As he suckled on one nipple and fiddled with the other, I slid my hand down to touch myself. He watched from the corner of his eye, increasing his speed and pressure as I did.

  “Oh, God, don’t stop,” I begged him.

  The waves of pleasure rolling down from my breasts were driving me hard over the edge, and my fingers were steering. Every ounce of frustrated passion returned tenfold, dripping from me as my loins grew hot and heavy.

  Joel was a good student, watching attentively as he pleasured my top. Hot tingles started from my toes and scalp, rushing over my body to collide in the center, bouncing back the other way with the force of my release.