Puck Money: A Hockey Love Story

by Miller, Raine

  His hands are cupping both cheeks of my ass as we start to move together. I'm so full with his cock deep inside of me. I feel claimed and complete, like this is what I was always supposed to feel but never knew. Nonsensical noises escape my throat as I ride him. It takes no time before I'm coming and clenching around his cock, the orgasm hitting me sharply when he sits up and starts nipping at my breasts and nipples with his teeth. The hint of delicious pain sending me over the edge all in an instant.

  We’re all wrapped up in each other, so close, moving together, breathing together, hearts pounding, kissing, tasting, fucking together.

  Boris twists me to my back without ever separating his body from mine.

  "I need to look in your eyes when I take you, krasotka."

  And so he does.

  We stay locked on each other as he moves, pumping his cock in long, deep slides in and out of me, his pace ever increasing. It’s a beautiful torture as I build again. Up, up, up I go until he kisses me fiercely and his cock becomes impossibly harder, spasming as he comes inside me. I fall into another sweeter climax, pausing from breathing as the sharp sting of pain-laced ecstasy overtakes my whole body in a tingling, hot rush.

  Boris puts his forehead against mine as he finishes. He looks meditative, as if his experience was as life-altering as mine was.

  I’m in awe of this connection we have, this chemistry. I can’t find words to say it, but I know this is right. It’s meant to be. I don’t ever want it to go away.

  * * *

  I trace the dragon tattoo with my finger along the intricate inked design from his shoulder to his forearm. Green blends into turquoise, which blends to blue, which blends to purple, and into black. It's a stunning work of Asian art, striking in form and context. With one deviation. Instead of the more typical red ball incorporated into the design, there's a flat black disc. A hockey puck. His dragon is not a mean-looking one. Boris's dragon is brave and honorable, just like the man.

  My man.

  I can say it now. My man. Because he is mine, and I am his.

  We've been lying together in the bed, naked and sated, for a long time, dozing off here and there, sharing sweet kisses, caressing each other’s skin, when the ring of his doorbell invades our peace.

  Boris sits up and peers at his phone before exiting the bed, pulling on a pair of jeans lying nearby on the floor.

  He disappears, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

  I force myself from the bed and zip into the bathroom to retrieve the Comets T-shirt and Boris’s discarded athletic shorts where he dropped them in front of the shower. The black shorts are positively huge on me, but at least they have a drawstring that I can cinch up tight enough to stay on my hips. I pull my hair up in a messy bun and pad out to the living room, only to find Ally reviewing something with Boris at the kitchen island.

  Ally hands me a cup of coffee from my favorite nearby coffee shop. It’s fresh and hot and tastes like heaven. "Thank you, Ally. How did you know?"

  "A little birdie sent a text and told me you might be having caffeine withdrawal. You doing okay? I heard you took a nasty fall."

  I look at Boris and realize he’s not spreading the news of my abduction widely. Thankfully. I nod and say, "Yeah. I’m such a super klutz. That’s what I get for reading books instead of doing sports all my life."

  "Boris," Ally interrupts, "you’ve got a team meeting in half an hour, then you’ve got to get back and pack for your preseason road trip."

  "Thanks. And thanks for the information on that class."

  "I’ll walk you to the arena so we can go over the week’s schedule," Ally says, heading toward the door.

  Boris disappears into his closet, returning in shorts and T-shirt. He shoves his feet into his trainers and throws his workout bag over his shoulder, then makes his way over to me.

  "Stay as long as you need, krasotka. I should be back in a couple of hours and I will find you."

  He kisses me on top of the head before meeting Ally at the door. The young woman watches our exchange with interest but keeps any feelings carefully masked. She says goodbye to me as they leave. I give a little wave in return as the door shuts, not sure I know how to read Ally yet. She must be crushing on Boris, because how could she not. But she was professional and invested…that’s good, right?

  There’s no reason to hang around here for two hours, so I find my phone, keys, and the fanny pack I was wearing on game day, and head down to my own apartment. LuLu meows like she’s been left alone for a year as I shut myself inside. I pick her up, rubbing her soft fur and missing her sweetness as she purrs. I know Boris has been taking care of her here because he told me so.

  I’m so tired. From the ordeal. From the lovemaking. From the intense emotions. I lie down on the chaise with my favorite blanket, LuLu making herself comfortable wedged between my side and the edge of the chaise.

  I drift away wondering just one thing…

  Should I have told Boris that I might love him, too?

  Twenty-Seven

  Boris

  Naked Storytime

  Ally rattles off the schedule for the week. I’ll pack tonight for a short flight to Anaheim tomorrow morning. We’ll condition, do a press event, and then chill for a bit before our first game. We then travel to Los Angeles for game two on the road. We’ll finish two nights later in Portland. I’ll be gone for four days and it feels like forever, knowing Talia will be left here alone. I approached Viktor at practice yesterday and asked if he could point me in the right direction for hiring private security to watch over Talia when she goes to and from her office. He told me to call the same guy Vlad mentioned, Saul Heisenberg, local fixer of all problems—for a price. I told Viktor price is nothing to me compared to peace of mind for the safety of my krasotka. He slapped me on the back and typed Heisenberg's number into my phone himself. I considered our fences mended.

  "Do you want to try for the Saturday morning session?" Ally is asking.

  I give her an apologetically quizzical look.

  "The dyslexia session?" she asks.

  "It sounds really awful, Ally."

  "It’s a mix of cognitive stimulation and introduction to some cheat tools they’ve developed," she says. "It’s up to you."

  "I’ll think about it." And I will. "But thank you for doing the research."

  We’re nearly to the arena. I thank Ally again and tell her I really appreciate her assistance with my schedule. She nods and starts to walk away before turning back. "Boris?"

  "Yes?"

  "Things are different between you and Talia now, aren't they?"

  "They are." I gave her an answer, but I don’t feel like I owe her more than that.

  She nods again, a small smile playing on her lips. “All good. I could see it coming a million miles away. Talk to you once you get on the road."

  * * *

  "You guys were a machine out there," Coach is saying. "Bring that same energy and organization on the road and I can’t see us doing anything but heading to the playoffs by season’s end. We have to keep the momentum going. We have to play with purpose—every single game."

  Our owner and GM are both here, too, and they’ve given us the same pep talk. Coach’s came with a few notes first, of course. The reality is that these first few games are all pre-season. What will really matter is our true home opener in two weeks. We have to win there in order to keep the momentum going into our long season.

  We finish up the meeting and a few of us head to the gym to get a light workout in. I follow mine with a trip to the physical therapy rooms. My shoulder’s a mess again, so Pam has me hop up on the table so she can dig into the muscle.

  "Wow, what did you do, get in a fight?" she asks jokingly.

  I just grunt a response because that’s exactly how I jacked it up again. Clearly, telling her I had to enlist a group of shady dudes from Vegas to rescue the woman I love from another group of shady fuckers from Russia is a not happening.

  "Not talking today?
" Pam asks. "Fine. I’ll do the talking. I met your lady at the game the other night. Talia Wentworth, big-glasses-wearing financial genius. She hit it off with the First Wives Club right away, so they know about her now. She's no longer your secret dream girl anymore. Still just friends, are we? Oh…sorry, professional colleagues?"

  I snort at this because her tone is so ridiculous. "You’re nosy."

  "You started it by pouring your guts out and asking for advice. Plus, we're family. You and Georg are blood relations. I'm your cousin now, too." She pokes my shoulder a little over hard to get her point across. "Family shares shit about their lives with each other. So, spill. How did she go with the grand gesture? Did she go big?"

  I would say being kidnapped and nearly raped going a little too big …

  “Okay. Yes. We had a breakthrough and are on the same page. Happy?”

  "Very. Good for you, Boris." She sticks her tongue out at me.

  I leave with a stupid grin on my face.

  * * *

  I brought Talia to my place on the guise of helping me pack for my road trip, but I have a few other plans for us tonight in addition to the packing. I just got her, and now I must leave her behind and here alone while she's still healing from what they did to her in the abduction? It's fucked up and I hate it very much.

  She's in my closet right now choosing shirts and ties to go with the two suits I'm taking on said trip I don't want to take.

  "What do you think of this green tie to go with the windowpane check and this blue shirt?" She's sexy as fuck with her legs for days in gray shorts, and a tiny pink top with no bra; standing at the threshold of my closet, my clothes in her hands, (which she chose for me) asking for my opinion.

  A dark shadow of a bruise is visible on her cheek and her hands still show the many scratches and cuts, but her beauty is not diminished even in the slightest.

  Not to me.

  I stalk over to her, take the hanger with the shirt from her hand and toss it on my bed.

  "I really like the green tie for the blue shirt," she chatters, "but what do you think?"

  I take the green tie from her and loop it behind her neck, tugging her against me. "I think I like it best when you are wearing it, krasotka."

  "Oh yeah?" she says with a smirk. "Maybe the tie and nothing else, probably?" she teases.

  "I won't say no to that, but I was thinking more about sneaking you along with me for this road trip. I don’t like leaving you alone so soon after—”

  “I will be fine right here with LuLu and my books.” She shakes her head at me, not entertaining any discussion on the matter. “I’ll be watching every game and we can even Facetime after if you want to.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively. “That could be fun. But at the end of the day, you have a job to do and so do I.”

  I groan in frustration because even though I don’t like it, I know she’s right. I have to help the Crush win hockey games on the road, and she has to help people manage their money here in Vegas. “Okay, so the sooner we get me packed, the sooner I can take you to bed and have you read some more from the Iain Cooper book.”

  “Whoa there, dragon man. You’re taking me to bed to have me read to you?” She wrinkles her nose at me, unable to hide her disappointment.

  “Oh yeah. It will be days and days before you can read to me again, so I want to make the most of our night here together.”

  “Ummm…okay, if that’s what you want to do…I guess I can read to you.” She doesn’t look convinced but she’s trying her best to be. She’s adorable.

  “I do have one request though, if you don’t mind.”

  “Yes? What would that be?” Her eyes flash up at me curiously.

  “You’re going to be naked while you read to me—well, you may wear this green tie if you like, but that is all.”

  * * *

  Many hours and orgasms later, when I have her warm and naked beside me in my bed, I know that Talia is set apart from all other women I have ever known in my life. She’s this nerdy math and money girl who can be bold and shy at the same time. She loves books and eats meat like it’s going out of style. She’s always got something spilled on her clothes. She’s got a mouth worse than my teammates, sometimes. She’s strong and bold and sexually unafraid. Talia Wentworth is amazing. And I am in love with her. I’m sure of it.

  But I also know I have to be content with just this for now…because she’s not ready for more than this. To hold her, to share my bed with her, to hear her breathing as she falls asleep, that will have to be enough…for now.

  * * *

  Our first game on the road at Anaheim is a win. I score one goal to Evan’s two. He’s playing the best I’ve ever seen him this season, and that’s saying something because he is a legend. I’ve heard rumors he might retire in the next season or two. He’s still young, but he has two kids now, a wife. He’s talked about coaching somewhere. I think he’s ready to change the pace of his life.

  We go for a beer after the game and when I ask him about it, he gives a vague shrug.

  "My wife would like me home more, I’m sure, but I'll always love playing the game. Coaching would still require a lot of traveling, so maybe broadcasting might be more of a future goal. I still have time to think about it, but the wheel keeps on turning, you know? Not getting any younger."

  "I wondered. I just started seeing someone and I feel bad leaving her behind already."

  Evan’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "You’re dating someone? Really?"

  "Is it so hard to believe?"

  "No, I mean, I guess…never mind. Who is she?"

  "My investment manager," I say with a chuckle. "Talia."

  "Wow, she’s some investment manager."

  "She’s a genius when it comes to managing my ‘puck-money’ as she calls it. She’s smarter than me by a mile."

  He smiles. "Those are the really special ones. Good for you, man. I hope it works out."

  * * *

  I have a hard time sleeping after the Anaheim game. Thoughts of what could’ve happened to Talia the night she was kidnapped creep into my headspace at odd times. It’s too much to stomach when I delve too deeply down the rabbit hole of what-ifs and why nots.

  My mind is not in the game when we lose to Los Angeles. I admit, I do not play my best, and I hear it from Coach after the game. Back at the hotel in a funk, I decide to call Talia.

  “How are things in Sin City?” I ask.

  “Same as before you left. How are things in the City of Angels? Did you know you’re in my hometown?”

  “Ahh, yes, I do remember you saying your family was in LA. Maybe I would have played better tonight if you were here in the stands. I think you are my good luck charm, krasotka.”

  "You didn’t become the Ice Dragon because of one game, Boris," she says. "You earned that name. You earned your reputation. One shitty game does not make or break your career. It’s just the preseason and my being there or not have zero to do with the talent and ability you’ve been honing since you were a kid. Your success is not dependent on me, though I’m certainly always rooting for you."

  "How did you get so wise at such a young age?" I ask.

  "Kid genius, remember?"

  "Right, I forgot you went to college at, like, twelve. I was getting kicked out of school for fighting at twelve."

  "And yet here you are, one of the NHL’s top scorers. And one of its best-known pacifists."

  "I wasn’t such a pacifist when—"

  "No," she says. "I don’t want to talk about it."

  "But are you okay about it?" I ask, hoping she might tell me that much at least.

  "I don’t think I’m suffering any significant emotional trauma over it, if that’s what you’re asking."

  I’m quiet for a moment. "You’re the strongest person I think I’ve ever met."

  "I’m not," she says. "There are so many people out there fighting much more serious battles. Was I scared? Yes. Did I think there was a real chance I might not m
ake it out of there? Yes. But I did, and you were there to save me. You gave me the number for the private security to call if I ever feel scared. That’s enough for right now. I am so appreciative of you trying to help me to feel safe again, but now things are quiet and fine. I’m fine."

  "I think you are, krasotka."

  But I have to fight to convince myself to believe it.

  * * *

  We win our final game in Portland by a large margin, three of the goals being mine. It’s my first hatty with the Crush, and even though preseason numbers don’t count for career stats, it’s my sixth. So, overall a good result, a game more like our first one against Anaheim. I feel the team is gelling once more after a short slump. I can't wait to get back to my Talia though. There's so much I want to tell her. We still need to talk about so many things. I know next to nothing about her family and her life before she came to Las Vegas. Likewise, with me. I've not shared much at all about my past growing up, and she deserves to know all of it.

  After we land in Vegas the next afternoon, I unload from the baggage claim, shoulder my bag, and take an Uber straight to Talia’s office. I make one stop for a bouquet of pale pink roses, then take the flight of stairs up one floor, bursting into her office with the energy of a child on Christmas morning.