Pucked Love

by Helena Hunting

  He grabs the glass before I dump it in my lap, a wry smile forming as he tugs my ear buds free.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.” I look him over. He’s wearing black jeans, and a T-shirt that hugs his biceps and stretches tight across his chest.

  “I gathered that from your reaction. You look cozy.” He takes a sip from my glass.

  “So cozy.” I close my book and set it on the table.

  “Can I see which ones you picked?” He tugs at the end of the blanket so it slips down a few inches.

  “You went a little overboard, but thank you.” I pull the throw off, and Darren’s grin widens.

  I grip the arms of the chair to push myself up.

  He raises a hand. “No, no. Stay right here.”

  “Okay?” I draw the word out as I drop back down.

  He drags a finger from my ankle to my knee. “This is nice—you right here, looking like it’s where you belong.”

  I shift over and pat the seat cushion. “Why don’t you join me? There’s plenty of room.” The chair is huge, and round. There’s more than enough room for two bodies, even if one of them belongs to a huge hockey player.

  “Let me get a glass.”

  “Or we could share mine?”

  “We could definitely do that.” He adjusts my legs so they’re draped over his and stretches one arm across the back. Sliding his palm up my thigh, he runs his nose along my neck and follows with his lips. “I like you being here when I get home.”

  I laugh and then sigh as his lips trail along the edge of my jaw and across my cheek. When he reaches the corner of my mouth I turn toward him, our lips brushing.

  His rough fingers glide gently up my arm and thread into the hair at the nape of my neck. The kiss starts slow, the warm soft drag of his tongue becoming a sweet tangle. I have no idea how long we kiss, but eventually Darren pulls back, his thumb sweeping back and forth across my bottom lip, his breath coming hard.

  “How was your day?” he grinds out.

  I laugh and twist in his grip so I can straddle his thighs. “Long.” Knowing he was back in Chicago but having to wait to see him made the day pass more slowly than usual.

  “Same.” He settles his palms on my hips. “But this makes it worth it.”

  “Making out in my reading chair?” I reach for the glass of wine and take a sip.

  “Just you being here period. But the making out is nice too.” He watches as I take another sip. “I’d like some of that.”

  I raise the glass, expecting him to take it, but he doesn’t. Instead he parts his lips and cocks one sinister eyebrow.

  “I might spill it on you,” I warn.

  “It’s white. I’ll take the risk.”

  I tip the glass up until the wine reaches the edge, wetting his lips. My tongue is caught between my teeth, my smile wide as I lift the tiniest bit too high and it trickles out of the edge of the glass and down his chin.

  “Told you.” I set the glass on the side table, nearly missing since I’m paying more attention to Darren’s mouth than what I’m actually doing. I catch the drip with my tongue, then kiss the wine away, but when I get to his lips I pull back.

  Darren’s apparently not having it, because I suddenly find myself airborne. I land on my back on the chair, Darren’s mouth on mine as he parts my legs with his knee and sinks his hips into mine.

  Half an hour later, I’ve had three orgasms and I’m back in my spot on the chair with my legs thrown over his, except now we’re both mostly naked. Well, I’m totally naked, but Darren put his boxers back on. He tucks the blanket around me. “I’d planned to take you upstairs before I got inside you.”

  “So I could dress up in whatever’s in that black bag on the bed?”

  His brow pulls down. “Haven’t you opened it?”

  “Was I supposed to? I thought since it was wrapped I would wait until you were here.”

  “You can open it before we go to sleep since that’s when it’ll come in handy.” He reaches over and picks up the single wine glass, offering it to me before he takes a sip.

  I run my fingers through his hair and his head drops back, eyes falling closed. When he’s like this, unguarded and at ease, he looks much less severe. “How are you feeling about the game tomorrow night?”

  He runs one hand slowly up and down my thigh. “Truthfully?”

  “Unless you feel like you need to lie to me about it to make yourself feel better.”

  He cracks a lid and a smile, then lifts his head. His smile disappears and his eyes seem to trace over my face. “Worried.”

  “You played really well last night.”

  “Not well enough.” He blows out another breath.

  “You can only be as good as your teammates allow, though.” I drag my nails down the back of his scalp and goose bumps flash across his arms.

  “It’s not my game I’m worried about.”

  “Alex is struggling.” It’s not a question. I’ve seen it during the games, and then there’s the conversation Violet and I had.

  Darren chews on the inside of his lip for a few seconds before he gives me a reluctant nod. He’s incredibly loyal, and even though it’s the truth, I know all Darren wants to do is protect him.

  “He needs to go into this game with a positive frame of mind, and my biggest concern at the moment is that he’s beating himself up over the loss.”

  “Home ice advantage should help, shouldn’t it?”

  “Theoretically, yes. We have a great team, and Randy is an excellent front line player. Rookie is pulling his weight, and Miller and Lance are holding defense, but Alex has always been the best for scoring, and he’s just not making the shots the way he used to.” Darren drops his head and mutters a quiet fuck.

  “Hey.” I take his face between my hands and force him to look at me. His expression is pained, and I want to take that away for him. “It’s okay to talk to me like this. You’re not being disloyal for saying what’s true. I’m sure he knows this and it’s eating at him that you’re the one picking up the slack. I know it’s hard to separate your friendship from the welfare of the team and Alex’s ego, but you might need to start taking some of the shots you’ve been passing.”

  “It’s not that simple, Charlene.”

  “I know Alex likes to be the best at everything, but surely he must see how it would be better for the team—”

  “It’s not Alex; it’s me.”

  “That’s untrue. You’ve been incredible out there. I realize I’m biased—”

  He presses his lips to mine to stop me. “You don’t understand. Alex doesn’t want me to pass to him. He knows he’s not playing like he used to, and it’s killing him because he feels like he’s letting down his team. He wants me to take the shots, but I’ve been passing anyway, so it’s my fault we lost last night, not his.”

  “Why would you pass to him if he asked you not to?”

  “Goals get more points than assists,” he says.

  As if I don’t know this. “And that matters why?”

  He mumbles something else.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “Can we just drop this? It’s a real fucking downer, and that’s not what I wanted tonight to be.” His jaw tics and his throat bobs, fingers tightening on my thigh briefly before they skim up and in. I twist away from his wandering hand and cross my legs so he can’t get between them.

  He purses his lips, and I mirror the expression. His sigh is heavy as he trails his fingers down the side of my neck, pushing away the blanket. “Please, Charlene. Not tonight. Any other night.” He drops his head, lips finding the place his fingers just were and gliding up to my ear. “I just want to get lost in you.”

  There’s such vulnerability in his words and his tone. I pull back, wanting to see his face, trying to understand the sudden shift, the shutting down when we’re finally making progress.

  “I need you to let this go tonight. We can come back to it.” His pained eyes search mine. “But for now
, I need this. You. Please.”

  “Okay, Darren.” I press a palm to his cheek. “If that’s what you need.”

  He kisses me, softly at first, and then greedily. It’s late when we finally make it upstairs to bed. I don’t flail in my sleep. I can’t with Darren wrapped around me like a human blanket.

  We’re shifting again, and I worry too much change too fast is dangerous. It creates fault lines and cracks. The kind I’ll get lost in and won’t find my way back out of.

  CHARLENE

  Chicago wins the game against Toronto with Darren scoring the winning goal. He should be happy about it, but he’s stoic instead. I want to chalk it up to game seven being in Toronto, but I’m sure it has to do with Alex.

  We’re sitting at the bar after the game, and Darren has me tucked into his side, one arm thrown over my shoulder. He’s been quiet, smiling when people pat him on the back, but not saying much else. Which isn’t unusual. What is unusual is the number of times he tucks my hair behind my ear, or leans in to kiss my neck.

  “So we’re all going to Toronto to cheer our boys on, right?” Violet says from across the table.

  She told Alex last night that she’s pregnant, but she wants to keep it quiet until she’s through the first trimester. Considering how many weeks away that is, and how much he’s fawning over her like she’s an injured bird, I’m not sure the secret is destined to be kept.

  I find out how right I am about five seconds later. “We can celebrate the end of the series and the fact that I’m going to be a dad!” Alex shouts. He’s a few beers into the night, so it’s hard to hold him too accountable.

  Violet slaps his chest. “Alex!”

  He cringes, then turns to her. “Sorry. Shit. I’m just so fucking excited. You’re going to be the sexiest pregnant woman in this history of the universe.”

  There’s a flurry of excitement, and I stand, along with Darren. His mouth is at my ear. “Did you know?”

  “I was with her when she took the test. Violet didn’t want me to say anything until she told Alex.” I feel as if I should apologize.

  He squeezes my hand and nudges me forward. “You don’t have to explain. Alex told me this morning.”

  I look into icy eyes that seem somehow soft and warm. “You’re not upset that I didn’t tell you?”

  “She’s your best friend. You keep her confidence, as you should.” He strokes my cheek and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.

  A moment later I’m swallowed up in Alex’s bear hug while Darren gives Violet a much gentler version of the same affectionate congratulations. I step back to let a teary Sunny hug her brother.

  Darren slips his fingers between mine and pulls me into him. “It’s a weekend game; can you get an extra day off? I want the time with you.”

  It’s as if he knows that this good thing is in some ways bad—like it separates us from them in yet another way.

  “I can talk to my boss tomorrow,” I tell him.

  “He’ll say yes.”

  He’s not being cocky, not really. Our firm represents a number of Chicago players. Violet is married to the top earner on the team, and only two other players in the league have bigger contracts than Alex. Darren isn’t a slouch either, and Stroker handles his account directly. He’ll let us go.

  By ten the following morning, we have the green light from Stroker, much to Jimmy and Dean’s dismay, and our plane tickets are booked. Darren wanted me on his flight, but I have to work on Friday, as do most of the girls, so we’re leaving in the evening, which means we’ll have all day Saturday to do fun girl things before the game.

  When we arrive Friday night, the boys swarm the lobby and claim their significant others, leaving only the parents—of course Skye and Sidney came along, and Daisy and Robbie drove out from Guelph to be here—at the bar. It’s late, but Darren needs some release before I force him to go to sleep.

  I check my phone around midnight to see what the rest of the girls are up to. Looks like I’m the last one to be done putting my hockey man to bed. I slip out from beneath the covers, find my clothes, and tiptoe to the bathroom so I can change without disturbing Darren.

  It’s after two by the time I come back to the room. Lily and I drank too many cocktails while we talked lingerie. Skye and Daisy were far more sauced than us though, having been in the bar all evening. I’m not as quiet or coordinated as I’d like to be as I strip down. I try to find my pajamas, but it’s too dark, and I don’t want to risk waking Darren, who’s curled around my pillow.

  I pull his discarded shirt over my head and slip between the sheets as stealthily as possible. He shifts as soon as I’m under the covers, but he’s still hugging the pillow, so it bars his way. Darren grunts his displeasure, groggy and only half aware as he struggles to get near me.

  I turn to face him, settling a gentle palm on his cheek. “Let me help.”

  He hums and his limbs go lax, eyes fluttering open for a second before falling closed again as I replace the pillow with myself. Darren sighs and buries his nose in my hair. His arm comes around me, fingers splayed across my stomach. They travel up, between my breasts, skimming my collarbones until he reaches the pearls. He follows the strand, curling his fingers around my shoulder, thumb resting in the hollow of my throat.

  I close my eyes and relax into his warmth. I want to hold onto this protected feeling, but it’s terrifying. I crave this closeness with him, and when he’s sleeping it feels safer, because it’s unconscious on his part. I don’t have to face it the way I do in the waking hours.

  I fall asleep wishing I could erase my past so I could be a better version of myself, one that didn’t have her innocence blown apart at the age of fourteen when I learned my life had been a fucked-up lie in a fucked-up world.

  I wake up to Darren’s hard-on pressed against my hip and his lips at my ear asking to get inside me. There’s no chance I’m saying no to him, so we follow morning sex with room service while he gets ready for his pre-game skate, and I prepare to explore Toronto with the girls until game time.

  He’s quiet, which isn’t unusual for Darren, but he’s tense and restless, even after the morning orgasm.

  “You okay?” I smooth his shower-damp hair away from his face.

  “Mmm.” He sits on the edge of the bed, pulls me between his legs, and tucks his head under my chin.

  “That’s not really an answer,” I point out.

  “Keep touching me, please.”

  “We’re supposed to be downstairs in two minutes.”

  “I’m not asking for sex, Charlene. I just need you close to me.”

  “You’re going to be amazing tonight.”

  His nose brushes my throat at his nod, and his fingers flex on my hips. His palms slide up my back, wrapping around my shoulders as he pulls me in tighter. He tips his head and his lips press against the side of my neck and part. The soft, wet touch of his tongue warms my body, and heat settles low in my stomach.

  “Darren.” It’s warning twisted with desire.

  He stands quickly, one palm curving around my nape. I tilt back as he looms over me, his gaze hot and needy.

  “What—”

  He cuts off the question with his mouth. His tongue pushes past my lips, and he finds his way under my shirt with his free hand. We need to be downstairs now. His team is leaving for their pre-game skate in minutes. We don’t have time for another round of morning sex, and I don’t want to be the reason he’s off his game tonight.

  I put my palms on his chest with the intention of pushing, but his fingers dip into the waistband of my leggings—it’s pretty much all I packed for the weekend—and slide into my panties.

  I gasp and grip his shirt when he finds the barbell piercing my hood and circles it roughly. He goes lower and thrusts two fingers inside me. Finding the magic spot, he curls fast and hard, making my knees buckle. His grip on the back of my neck tightens, preventing me from sinking to the floor.

  He curls his fingers one more time before he withdraws to
circle my clit again. It won’t take much to make me come. Just a bit more friction and I’ll go tumbling over the edge. But his hand disappears, and he wrenches his mouth away from mine.

  I cry out at the loss of his touch and try to pull him back to me with his shirt. His name is a whine on my lips. My clit is throbbing, and my knees are weak.

  “Please, Darren.” The high pitch should be embarrassing, but dear God, the muscles are already clenching with the promise of an orgasm, if only he would touch me again.

  His hot, almost angry gaze stays locked on mine as he lifts his hand, fingers glistening. I groan as he slips them into his mouth, sucking loudly.

  Somewhere to the right a phone buzzes with a message.

  One corner of his mouth tips up in a sinister smile as his fingers slide out of his mouth. He licks between the webbing, and my eyes roll up. I attempt to shove my own hand down my pants to finish what he started.

  “No,” he barks and grabs both my wrists. He spins me around until my knees hit the back of the bed and I drop to my ass. He straddles my legs, clamping them together as he hovers over me once again. “How do you feel right now, Charlene?”

  The sound that comes out of me is somewhere between a whimper and a growl.

  “That’s not an answer, little firefly.”

  I fight against his hold on my wrists and swivel my hips.

  He dips down until his face is an inch from mine. “Are you on the edge?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you angry?”

  “No.”

  “No?” He quirks a brow.

  “Yes!” This time it’s a moan.

  “Restless? Needy? Wanting? Desperate?”

  I nod fervently. “All of those things.”

  “This is how I feel every time I’m away from you.”

  His eyes stay on mine, unblinking as he waits for me to process what he’s just admitted. We don’t talk feelings, and yet here he is, telling me more in these few words and actions than he has in the past two years.

  “Don’t make yourself come today. Whatever happens tonight, this is how I need you so we match when we’re back together. Do you understand?” His voice is hard, but his expression is vulnerable.