Hooked: A Hockey Romance

by June Winters

  I'd never had a man so dedicated to my pleasure. Normally, oral made me feel self-conscious and pressured to reach a certain point. But with Hunter? His stark, naked lust made it come so easy. Never before had a man made me feel so wanted, so revered.

  “Oh, yes,” the words escaped me, bubbling right out of my tense throat. I clung tight to a fistful of his thick locks as he gently batted my clit with the tip of his tongue.

  “You taste so fucking good, Honor,” he growled hungrily, tonguing and slurping at my hole with a ravenous thirst.

  I closed my eyes and let it all wash over me: the warm, wet tongue-lashings on my pussy. The thrill of submission to this powerful, sexy athlete, as he held my legs high and drank from me. The thickness of his finger, as he parted my folds and explored me from the inside.

  It wasn't long before my toes curled, and I shouted embarrassingly loud,

  “Oh my god, yes! Yes!”

  Hunter licked me faster and sloppier, and finger-fucked me harder, until he took me racing to the peak of my climax. But once there—once he took me careening over the edge—he slowly, gently, eased me back down again, with the lightness of a feather tumbling through the air and back to the ground.

  When I opened my eyes, Hunter sat above me, watching me in my throes, softly laughing—admiring his own work.

  “Did you like that?” he asked confidently.

  “You're incredible,” I gasped, short-of-breath. Reaching for a condom from my night-stand, I whispered in his ear, “I need you inside me.”

  Hunter's mouth gently opened, with awe, with respect, for what he was about to take.

  Hunter tore the foil package open with his teeth. Slipping out of his boxers, his massive cock sprang free, bobbing with heft. My pussy clenched and heaved at the sight of his large manhood. I couldn't wait to feel him inside me.

  “You're so big, Hunter.”

  He rolled the condom down his length and, his eyes now on mine, mounted me. Gently, he eased his big, hard, throbbing cock into my wetness, one agonizing inch at a time.

  “More,” I whispered into his ear. “I want all of you. Fuck me, Hunter.”

  Hunter grit his teeth and bore his dick into me, gliding along my wetness, until I had all of him. I wished I could keep him there forever—but it felt oh-so-good when he backed out again.

  “Yes,” I moaned, clamping my muscles on his cock to show him my strength—and torture him with it every time he pulled out. “Fuck me, Hunter!”

  Hunter let loose a manly roar and pounded himself into me. One powerful thrust after another, the bed rocked and crashed against the wall. His groans, my moans, our screams and shouts filled the room, until beads of sweat trickled down Hunter's rippled and hairy chest.

  “Fuck, you're tight!” he yelled, his taut waist crashing into me harder, faster. My creamy juices pooled around the base of his cock as he tunneled deeper and further into me.

  With every thrust, his gold chain dangled in my face—a gentle and amusing reminder of his wealth and fame? I clamped my teeth around his necklace and shut my eyes, wanting to feel all of Hunter Rockwell, professional hockey player, as he fucked me.

  He was close now. I could feel it in the urgency of his strokes. I could feel it in the rising pressure of his dick, buried inside me. I grabbed two handfuls of his round, tight butt, and forced him deeper and harder into my tightness with his every pump.

  I whispered naughty nothings in Hunter's ear to pull him over the edge with me,

  “Your cock is so big, Hunter.”

  “You're so strong and sexy.”

  “You're close, aren't you? I can feel you getting harder.”

  My words struck at his stamina like blows to the gut. He winced, slowing, trying to stave off his orgasm so he could fuck me longer.

  “Don't fight it, baby. Give in. Give me all your cum, Hunter.”

  Those were the magic words that broke him. Hunter's core began to tremble, his tight muscles straining, and he began to frantically thrust in and out of me. He let out a visceral rumble, a growing bellow, as his pace grew hurried and urgent, and at last his head rolled back and he roared, “Aaah! I'm cumming!”

  His cock pulsed and throbbed inside me with the tremors and quakes of his orgasm. I smiled, madly, grinning from ear-to-ear, as he blew his load into his condom.

  ***

  I nuzzled myself into Hunter's burly chest, slick with his sweat and oil, and rich with his masculine spice. He kept his arm wrapped around me, squeezing me near, and we basked in the afterglow of our bond. I didn't want this moment to end, but I knew it had to, it always did … I was just a little afraid of what would come next between us.

  After the fog of passion had cleared, I was overwhelmed with a worry that Madison had set some trap—and I'd fallen right into it. Maybe she could sense that were was something real developing between me and Hunter? Maybe she'd tricked me into fucking him, to see if he'd stick around. Was this the part where Hunter left, because he got what he wanted? Would Madison be right?

  “Wow,” Hunter said at last, still gasping for air. “Wow, Honor. That was so goddamn hot.”

  “Yeah.” I softly laughed and smashed my face deeper into his chest. “But I think we ruined our dinner plans”

  “It's okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “I'm sure we can still make it.”

  I pulled back. “Yeah? Really? You still wanna eat dinner?”

  “Are you kidding? Now I'm starved. And I still wanna take you out.” He gave my ass a spank to drive the point home.

  I let out a breath of relief. “You do?”

  “Sure.”

  Something about that 'sure' didn't seem completely convincing … but, it was what I had to work with.

  I sat up. “I need some time to get myself ready, then.”

  “Just put on your dress and go as you are,” Hunter said with a careless shrug.

  “Hunter! We'll look like we just rolled out of bed.”

  “That's the point. We'll roll up an hour late. We'll be the couple that obviously skipped our reservation to fuck instead. I'm not ashamed—are you?” Hunter grabbed a handful of my ass and squeezed.

  “… No,” I said at last. I jumped out of bed and picked my dress off the floor. “I guess not.”

  We'll see, though.

  Chapter 17:

  Just a Hockey Player

  Rockwell

  The hostess smiled at us.

  “Hi,” I said. “We've got a reservation. Name's Rockwell.”

  Honor quietly whispered in my ear while the hostess typed into her computer keyboard. “Hunter! You know we're late! There's no way they saved that table for us.”

  “Worth a shot, isn't it?” I whispered back.

  Honor looked so sexy in her dress—and so adorable with stray hairs fleeing her crown of braids, thanks to our romp.

  And speaking of our romp … that girl blew my fuckin' mind. That was the hottest sex I'd ever had. I'd tried so hard to last longer, but when she started whispering in my ear? About what a big cock I had, and how good it made her feel?

  Holy shit. I never stood a chance. Just thinking about it now made my cock start to grow—so I told myself I'd better stop, before some fan spotted me walking around a restaurant with an obvious hard-on. The media had enough things to trash me for. I didn't need to give them any more ammunition.

  “… I'm sorry,” the hostess said at last with a frown. “It seems your reservation was over an hour ago, Mr. Rockwell.”

  “An hour ago? Huh. We must have lost track of time.” Discreetly, I slid my hand down the small of Honor's back and pinched her ass. She writhed away, trying to play it cool, even as she slapped at my hand and whispered, “stop it!”

  “Do you have any other open tables?” I asked the hostess.

  “No,” the hostess frowned again. “We're booked all night, unfortunately.”

  “Oh, too bad.” I slipped a bill over the host desk. “Could you check again?”

  That polite frown of
hers disappeared when she saw Benjamin Franklin—instead she pursed her lips and nodded with determination. She typed something into her keyboard. “Ah, yes, one just became available! Follow me, I'll take you to your table.”

  “Great.”

  Triumphant, I winked at Honor as we made our way to the table.

  She rolled her eyes at me playfully. “Was arriving late part of your plan? So you could impress me by bribing our hostess?”

  Shit. Why wasn't she ever impressed by my status? As much as it attracted me to her, it kinda scared me, too. Because once she realized I wasn't anything beyond a guy that made a lot of money for being really good at hockey, I'd be dead in the water.

  Our cozy, candle-lit table sat at the back of the dim restaurant. I pulled Honor's chair out for her and took my seat after her.

  “This place is so fancy, Hunter!”

  “Good. I wanted to treat you to some place nice.”

  “Why? Don't get me wrong, I love it. But why treat me? We hardly know each other.”

  “I think we know each other pretty well now, don't we?” I winked at her, and a sweet memory of her perfect tits, bouncing and swaying as I fucked her in missionary, ran through my filthy mind.

  But she clicked her tongue and gave me a stare. “You know what I mean, Hunter, don't be raunchy.”

  Damn. She always wanted me to be all polite and genuine. It wasn't easy.

  I shrugged. “I guess … because of what you just said: that we hardly know each other.”

  “Go on,” she said, wanting to pull more out of me.

  “Okay, uh, I could sense that about you. That you want to get to know each other better.”

  I struggled to swallow. These words were very hard for me to speak. Any other girl, I probably would've laughed, waved my hand at her, and told her to shut up. And she'd be eating right from my palm for the rest of the night.

  But not Honor.

  “And?” she asked.

  “Damn,” I muttered under my breath. “Uh. I guess—getting to know each other—that's kind of a new thing for me.”

  She frowned sympathetically. “That's so sad.”

  “I guess.” Wanting to sound strong, I added: “But not really.”

  “No? Don't you like to get to know the girls you date?”

  “Date,” I muttered quietly again. “Girls don't really seem interested in dating me, to be honest.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “It's true.”

  “What about Madison?” Honor asked.

  “Okay … sure. But that's sort of my point. She's not interested in me, she's just interested in—the idea of me, I guess. Who I am. This image of being with a pro athlete.”

  “Do you think I'm interested in you, Hunter Rockwell, the person?” she asked.

  My throat felt bone dry. I grabbed my glass of water and nearly chugged the entire glass.

  “Yeh,” I croaked.

  “Oh my God!” Honor giggled. “It's so cute how that makes you nervous.”

  She was right, but I didn't reply.

  “And it makes me wonder why,” she added, thoughtfully.

  A wave of shame swept over me—but thankfully, our waiter showed up at just the right time to take our orders.

  I thought the waiter had saved my ass, but Honor picked up right where she left off.

  “So, Hunter, tell me about yourself.”

  “Oh, hm. There's—not really a lot to know, that people don't already know, I mean.”

  “I doubt that. What's your life like outside hockey?”

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “I don't really have one, I guess. It's just—hockey, honestly.”

  Amused, she laughed. “Don't you have friends you like to do things with?”

  “You mean the boys? Sure. We go out when we have off days, yeah. It's hard to make friends with people that aren't in hockey, though.”

  “So …” Honor trailed off. I could tell from the look in her eyes: she felt like she was running face-first into a brick wall over and over again. “What was your life like, growing up in New York?”

  “Well, I was pretty serious about hockey from a young age. So … y'know. A lot of hockey camps, 6 AM practices before school, parents driving me all over for tournaments and stuff.”

  I was desperate to escape the heat of the spotlight for a while. “How about you, Honor? What was it like growing up in Minnesota?”

  “Fun. It's so beautiful up there. In the summers at least—the winters are awful. But, you get used to it, I suppose.”

  “And you always wanted to be a figure skater?”

  “I loved figure skating. But actually? I always wanted to be a hockey player like my big brothers.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Yup. My parents wouldn't let me, though. They said it was too … un-lady-like, and besides that, they were already spending a fortune on my brothers' hockey careers. That's why they pushed me into figure skating instead. Performing on the ice was a blast, but I always wanted to be part of a team, like my brothers. I guess, that's what I hoped to get with the ice girls, but …” Honor trailed off. “Well, nevermind all that.”

  “Do your brothers still play?”

  “No. Just for fun, in beer league. They're not nearly as good as you or anything.”

  I flexed my bicep. “Well, I think that goes without saying.”

  Her eyelids fluttered sarcastically. “Oh, yes, of course.”

  “I always admired you figure skaters, though.”

  “Why's that?”

  “Well, shit, you heard me complain about the 6 AM practices before school … but you girls had your ice time before us hockey players.”

  Honor smiled. “Yup, 5 AM, three times a week.”

  “I liked watching the figure skaters come off the ice when we arrived. We'd always try to flirt with 'em, too. A pretty girl like you? I bet the hockey players wouldn't leave you alone.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Trust me—no. My brothers would beat up anyone who looked at me the wrong way. I was off limits, and everyone knew it. If someone wanted to date me, they had to stand up to my brothers first and prove their worth. No one ever did, though.”

  “Hah! Good for your brothers!”

  So that's where she gets it from, I thought.

  “Easy for you to say. It made dating impossible.” She sighed. “How about you? I bet girls were falling all over themselves for a chance to be with a future hockey star.”

  I cracked a smile—but one I could just feel hinted at the pain underneath. “Nah … not really. I was pretty focused on hockey, like I said. Too busy for girls, mostly.”

  “No? You weren't always a heart-breaker?”

  I frowned. “No.”

  “When's the last time you had a girlfriend?”

  “Uh.” I took a quick breath. “Three years ago.”

  “Three years ago,” Honor repeated, narrowing her eyes at me. “There's that number again. Same time you were traded. Same time you switched sticks.”

  I gulped and tried to play it off like a coincidence. “Yeah, huh. How 'bout that. I guess you're right.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Doesn't matter,” I grumbled.

  Her forehead creased with worry. Before, when she ran face-first into that brick wall, she looked determined to find another way around it. But now? She looked like she'd realized she really had hit the wall, and was about to give up on getting around it altogether.

  So we made small talk instead. The weather. The wine. But I could sense her disappointment with all that surface bullshit.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “Fine. My last girlfriend. Her name really doesn't matter. But, if you have to know, it was Vanessa.”

  Relief flooded her face. That look alone? I'd live for it. I needed to see that look on her face more.

  “Tell me about Vanessa.”

  “She moved to New York from Texas our junior year of high school. That's when we met and started dating. She was my
high school sweetheart.”

  “Oh …”

  “The only girl I'd ever been with up to that point in my life.”

  Honor frowned. “What happened?”

  “I got drafted, and made it into the league in my rookie year. Once I started earning that big NHL paycheck? She moved in with me, and things were going great. I thought things couldn't get any better. So I proposed.”

  “Did she turn you down?”

  “No. She said yes.”

  “Oh. Er. So what happened?”

  “She cheated. I found out a few months before the wedding.”

  “Oh, Hunter.” Honor reached across the table and grabbed my hand with hers. “I'm sorry.”

  “It's okay.” I shook my head and laughed. “You know what's crazier?”

  “What?”

  “Remember Chris Cunningham?”

  “That creep from Boston? God, how could I forget.”

  “Yeah. That creep was my teammate, my best friend. Or so I thought. Until I found out he was banging Vanessa, my fiance, on the regular.”

  Her jaw dropped. “No.”

  “Yup.”

  “What could she possibly see in him? Ew.”

  I blew out an angry gust. “Dunno. Don't care. Hate 'em both.”

  I could see the puzzle pieces falling into place for her. “And … is that why you were traded?”

  I sighed again. “Yup. The day I found out? I spent all night drinking. We had practice the next day. I showed up way late, still drunk. The boys were already on the ice when I got there. I threw on my skates, ran out, grabbed Cunningham and started swinging. Everyone was so pissed. The coaches sat us both down and kept asking what the hell had gotten into us, but neither of us said a word. I just told them I'd played my last game for Boston and demanded that they trade me.”

  “So no one even knew what went down between you guys?”

  “Nope.”

  “God! That's so … wrong!”

  “Yeah, oh well.” I shook my head. “Ever since, I've been stuck in this dark place. Colorado traded for me, thinking I could lead their young team into the future. They didn't realize they were getting this fucked up, broken asshole.”