Forbidden Puck: A Hockey Romance

by June Winters

  Wide-eyed and giggling with surprise, I tried to cover my chest in the name of modesty. But Ryan wouldn't have it. He grabbed my wrists with one hand and pinned my arms above my head. I gasped for air and his eyes feasted on my rising-and-falling breasts with a fiendish craving …

  “Ryan,” I moaned, writhing beneath him.

  With my arms restrained, Ryan lowered himself to my breasts. Greedily, he groped and pawed at my breasts, tweaking and pinching my nipples—and ignoring my initial too-sensitive yelps and mewls.

  “Your tits are perfect,” he snarled.

  My sensitive cries became deep moans of pleasure as Ryan licked and kissed and sucked at my growing nipples. They elongated in his mouth, the sight of which—pink and erect and wet with his saliva—only drove him even more wild and crazy.

  Ryan dragged his tongue down my torso, licking at every inch of skin and grunting at my taste.

  Beneath him, I felt like a rag doll, a silly little plaything meant to satisfy him. His carnal desire for me was so thick, so urgent and real. In the past, plenty of boyfriends had wanted me, but never like this, never like they worshiped every inch of me …

  Soon, his mouth was at my waist. He laid a perfect trail of feather-soft kisses above the hem of my panties. I squirmed. He'd already gotten me so wet. I wanted him to touch my panties, I wanted him to notice my wetness for him, just like he had last night—I wanted to see how the sight and smell of my need for his body possessed him once more.

  Ryan began to kiss and gently nibble his way up my inner thigh, slowly, tortuously, to my crotch—and then, cruelly, he skipped over my mound entirely, only to start the ritual over again at my other thigh.

  “Please,” I gasped, my fist clenching at his bed sheets. “Please, please, I want you so bad.”

  He glanced up at me with his sparkling eyes. “You waited this long. I want to take my time with you.”

  “Oh my God …” I panted as a sudden rush of warmth soaked my panties.

  At last, Ryan dug two fingers under the waistband of my panties and pulled. He dragged the intimates until they tumbled down and off my legs.

  Ryan spread me apart with his powerful arms. “Damn, your pussy's so pink and wet, babe.” Tenderly, he began to lick at my heat. I placed my hands on his head, guiding him, and secretly adoring the sharp sensation of his short, prickly hair against my hands as he French-kissed my pussy.

  Just like last night, Ryan reduced me to a whimpering, moaning puddle in a matter of minutes. And just like last night, I could only withstand a few strokes from his incredibly thick finger before he broke me. I screamed, a hip-quaking, limb-thrashing, toe-curling orgasm like I'd never had before.

  Ryan knew how to bring me back to Earth—he fucked me with his finger, soothingly, lovingly. I was a breathless mess when it was over.

  “I love your taste,” he said with a confident grin.

  “What do I taste like?”

  “You tell me.”

  He mashed his mouth into mine and a wildfire blazed between us as we kissed. Sure enough, my taste lingered on his lips and tongue; a sharp, yet at the same time, pleasantly mellow musk. My stomach twisted into knots with the taboo: I loved my taste on his mouth, with his scent, with his taste. It was naughty, but so right, like no two things were ever made more perfect for each other.

  Reaching blindly at Ryan's muscled waist, I swiped at his sweatpants. They slid over his round butt and his hefty manhood sprang out, bobbing intimidatingly and bulging with veins. The tip was wet with a glossy trail of his excitement that dribbled down his head.

  “Oh,” I moaned, “I want to taste you, Ryan.”

  He sat back on his haunches, head towards the sky. I knelt between his chiseled thighs and stroked him, my eager eyes on his massive cock. With each tug, he spilled more mouth-watering pre-cum. I had to have him in my mouth.

  I leaned forward and delicately dabbed my tongue to his wetness. It was sweet, and I wanted more. I swirled my tongue all around his head, licking and sucking at him as if his solid mass were an ice cream cone, until I'd drank all of his nectar.

  Needing to taste more of him, I locked my lips around him and pushed down his length.

  “Ella,” he groaned.

  With every pass into my mouth, his sweet-and-salty taste trickled against my tongue. I sucked him faster, harder, desperate for more of his pre-cum, when he began to pant in warning,

  “Ella …! You're gonna make me come—you better slow down!”

  But I didn't slow down at all. The idea of him losing control and busting in my mouth so quickly was an incredible turn-on. I sucked him harder, faster, thrashing my tongue against his member, until his whole body trembled and his dick turned as hard as steel in my mouth.

  “Fuck, I'm coming!” he roared, grabbing a fistful of my hair.

  Powerful threads of his cum jetted against the roof of my mouth, but I didn't stop sucking. I swallowed his juice down, and kept sucking for more, until he grew too sensitive and had to pry me off his cock.

  The two of us collapsed on his bed. He put his arms around me and pulled me near.

  “Holy shit,” he panted. “That was amazing, Ella.”

  I buried my face against his hefty pecs. Each breath carried his salty, masculine scent.

  “I liked it, too,” I said shyly. “But …”

  “But what?”

  “I just made you come, and I was hoping that … y'know …”

  He pulled me near. “I'm not done with you yet.”

  I grinned uncontrollably. My hand found his cock and I stroked him and, sure enough, he grew rigid in a hurry.

  “I love how big you are,” I told him.

  I watched as Ryan rolled off me and opened his nightstand drawer. He fetched a condom, tore the package open, and slowly rolled the ring of rubber down his throbbing thickness. My nervous heart beat with excitement.

  My very first time.

  After having waited for so long, I always wondered how this very moment would go. I'd always tried to picture what the 'perfect guy' might look like, or what we'd done in the day leading up to it.

  But having reached my wits' end with hopeless men, I was ready to give up on all that. At age 22, my virginity had become such a burden, such an obstacle, such a needless distraction. After Matthew, I was sure I just wanted to be rid of it and fuck the first guy who met the most basic requirements of, 'not a total dick-bag.'

  Last night, when I was ready to fuck Ryan, I thought he was the perfect guy for a meaningless first. I didn't care that he wasn't the guy I was waiting for. He was a guy who had experience and would gladly fuck me and that would be that.

  But no. Instead, he turned me down, and sent us on this whirlwind course … and in less than 24 hours later, here we were again—naked, in his bed, and all over each other once again. Only this time, I felt a lot closer to him. And maybe it was just the fact that his eye was marbled and swollen, but I could've sworn he was a lot more vulnerable to me than he was last night.

  And I realized, as crazy as it was, this was the moment I'd been waiting for. Ryan was a guy who was willing to risk it all—his best friend, his team, his comfortable lifestyle, maybe even his career—because that's how badly he wanted me.

  Maybe, in an ideal world, we'd wait a little longer … get to know each other a little more … something like that. But tomorrow, I'd be gone. And who knows where he'd be tomorrow? All that mattered now was that I liked him, and he liked me, and we both wanted this.

  He mounted me in missionary, his soft eyes holding me with reverence and respect, making sure I still wanted this. No words needed to be spoken; I encouraged him with a nod.

  Ryan slid the tip of his sheathed manhood against my opening. He glided his bigness up and down my folds—a tease. Each time his cock glanced over my slit but didn't enter me, my whole body quivered with disappointment.

  “Please, Ryan, please,” I begged him, “I want it. Please don't make me wait any longer.”

  My words wer
e like a spell to the athlete. With an obedient glaze in his eyes, Ryan wedged his tip at my opening. Slowly, he sunk his weight forward, and his thick cock parted my folds, one inch at a time.

  “Yes,” I whispered when his hips touched mine and he ground to a halt.

  Yes. Finally.

  Ryan didn't move. His presence was warm, long and thick and solid inside me. He was the first man to have me, and he was more than happy just to stay buried in my pussy. I never imagined I could feel so satisfied, so filled and stretched, so complete, as I did with Ryan's cock pulsing inside me.

  And then Ryan did something a little crazy.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  He might've looked a little startled after he said it, and I'm sure I did too, but then I opened my mouth and said something a little crazy myself.

  “I love you too,” I gasped with surprise—but surprise for whom? Ryan for saying it so quickly, or me for feeling the same exact way?

  It didn't matter. The words had been said, and Ryan gave me his lips and we kissed madly, two people in love, until I could feel his huge cock begin to swivel and tunnel in and out of me.

  He backed out and heavy breaths escaped us both. After feeling so whole, the absence of him was excruciating. I needed him back inside me.

  “Fuck me, Ryan,” I pleaded him.

  I dug my nails into Ryan's round, firm ass, and moaned for him as he thrust his length into me again.

  Chapter 28

  I Mean It

  Radar

  “I love you.”

  Holy shit, did I just say that?

  I've never been in love. I wasn't sure I ever could fall in love. I wasn't sure I'd know what it felt like … or if it was even real.

  But I've also never told a girl I loved her before. And I wasn't planning on saying it to Ella, either.

  The words just … had a way of coming out, all on their own.

  And then I'd done it. I'd said those words.

  Ella reacted the only way she could: her mouth cracked open just the tiniest bit, and her eyes went wide with surprise. I was sure I'd blown it.

  But then she surprised me.

  “I love you too.”

  Were we serious? Had we lost our minds? We barely knew each other! How could we say those words when we'd just met two days ago?

  I couldn't possibly answer those questions rationally. But, I guess love wasn't the most rational thing, either. All I knew was that I'd never felt this way about a girl before, and I wasn't one to throw those words around to impress somebody. They'd always scared me.

  But with Ella, they felt … right. So right, I'd spoken them without planning on it. And once she'd said it too, something magical happened. It was like we'd sealed a sacred bond, something we'd share forever, something bigger and more important than space and time itself.

  We locked lips and kissed like we never had before, so hot, so raw, so deep. I pulled out, and we both trembled and gasped to be put back together again.

  “Fuck me, Ryan,” she moaned, clutching two handfuls of my ass.

  I pumped myself back into her tight, steaming-hot pussy. She truly opened for me now, and I slid in even deeper than before, until every last inch of my cock disappeared inside her. With a devious smile, Ella squeezed me so tight, I couldn't even pull out.

  “Fuck me?” she sang. A taunt. She knew what was she doing. I tried again to withdraw, but her grip was too strong.

  “You're so tight, Ella,” I grumbled vulnerably.

  “C'mon, Ryan! I said, fuck me,” she teased in a tone that told me she knew it was an impossible task.

  With a roar, I pulled against her with all my might, fighting against the sweet, blissful friction of her muscles. The intensity of our struggle ratcheted higher, until at last, her hold gave way and we were torn apart, separated in a crescendo of grunts, groans and moans.

  “I'm not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that,” I gasped.

  “Try again. I promise I'll let you out this time.” She smiled at me and I knew she hadn't meant it. Not that I minded. I gave her my tongue, eased forward, and slid my dick right back into her sopping-wet tightness. She let me right in. But when I tried to pull out, sure enough, she clamped down on me.

  “You are such a liar.”

  “Fuck me, Ryan?” she sang again.

  I didn't hold back. I pulled and pulled against her until at last she lost her grip, and then we shoved ourselves back together again.

  She teased me with her strength, her tightness, and I began to realize why: she'd kept herself pure all this time, and she wanted me not just to appreciate it, but to claim it, to own it.

  We fucked, harder and faster, each thrust a tussle, until her resolve finally gave away and she couldn't hold me anymore; she could only grip her muscles against me as I plowed in and out of her, and then things really got loud and out of control.

  With her tightness, her wavering screams of pleasure, her tits bouncing and jiggling as I fucked her, I didn't last long. My cock pulsed and throbbed inside her, shooting my load into the condom.

  After I'd spilled my seed, I held her tiny body against mine, and the two of us didn't speak a word. We just grinned like fools, basking in each other's warmth and the bliss we'd just created.

  “I love you,” she said, once we finally caught our breath and settled down.

  “I love you too,” I said, and I gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

  ***

  We were up for hours, and we did it all. We made sweet love. We fucked like animals. We screwed with dirty, pent-up frustration.

  We fucked on the bed, on the floor, up against the wall, and all over the bed. We did her favorite sixty-nine, too, which was just as hot with Ella as I'd imagined.

  I was the first man she'd ever had, after all, and she wanted to try it all. She had a penchant for hard, athletic sex—sex that took us both to the physical limit; sweat dripping, flesh clapping, bed creaking, headboard banging, hard sex.

  Once, Ella sweetly asked if she could be on top and be the one in control. I'd just grin and tell her if she wanted to be in control, then she should just be in control. Without another word, she hopped on top of me, dug her nails into my chest, and rode me in cowgirl. She rode me rough, just like she wanted it: pelvis gyrating, hips bucking, clit grinding against my shaft with every pump. When she came, she let her hair cascade over my bare chest. She kept going, her hips slowly swiveling on my hard cock, until she milked me for my orgasm and I came inside her.

  Every time I exploded inside Ella, I was left feeling totally drained. Like I had nothing more to give, and the only I desire I had was to shut my eyes and let sleep take me. But then she'd sneak a hand down and massage my balls, or put my soft cock in her mouth and swirl it around until it was hard, and, well, the whole process started over again.

  And then we'd collapse into each other again, clutching each other near, our sweltering bodies even sweatier and stickier than before. On and on and on for hours, until the first crack of daylight started to appear out the window and the bed sheets beneath us were damp with our mess. We knew we needed to get our hands off each other and at least try to get some sleep.

  I watched as she climbed out of bed and started pulling her panties up her legs.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “I shouldn't sleep in here, should I? It's already so late, and if Lance comes home in the morning, and I'm still in here, he'll kill us both …”

  I blew out a gust. “I want you with me. Lance is not going to get between us.”

  “You actually mean that, don't you?” Smiling, she rushed and jumped back into bed and wiggled out of her panties. She pinched the item between her fingers and held it out to me.

  “I guess you want these?” she asked. “For the box? Your collection?”

  I didn't take them. “God, no.”

  She pouted. “Why not?”

  “They don't belong in there.” I shook my head. “I'm throwing t
hat damn thing away. I can't stand the thought of it anymore.”

  “Nooo!” Ella squealed sarcastically. “But how will you ever remember all the babes you've boned!”

  I jealously put my arm around her and squeezed her into my body. “They don't matter to me. All I want is you.”

  She giggled with her lovely laugh, but she pushed herself away from me. “You know, you shouldn't talk like that …”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you know I've gotta go back to New York tomorrow.”

  “So?”

  “You really think you'll still want to be with me, once I'm gone and all this craziness is over?”

  “I said I love you and I meant it. I'm not letting you get away from me that easily, Ella.”

  “But what if you get traded to … what did Lance say? Winnipeg?”

  I wrapped my arm around her even tighter. “I'll figure it out. I'm not letting you get away. I've been waiting for a girl like you my whole life.”

  She quietly sighed and melted in my arms. “I love it when you talk to me like that.”

  “Good, because I mean it.”

  Chapter 29

  Last Day in Boston

  Ella

  Ryan's alarm woke us up at 8:00.

  “What time is your flight?” he asked, his voice gritty with sleep.

  “2:00 PM …” I trailed off, disappointed by the thought.

  “We should get up, then. I don't want to spend our last few hours together in bed.”

  “Of course, we could spend our last few hours together in bed,” I teased, running a finger through the carved-out valleys of his stone-hard abs.

  “You don't know how tempting that is,” he said, biting his lip coyly, “but I'd feel bad if I didn't take you out to breakfast and have a proper morning with you first.”

  “Ooh, breakfast! Where?”

  “MacAllister's,” he said.

  I searched his face for a clue that he was joking, but I didn't find one.