Page 10 of Her Puck Daddies (Game On Daddies #2)

I try, but there’s no relaxing my cock without diving headfirst into the mental garbage bin—gross stuff, random turn-offs, whatever might do the trick.

Yet even as I furrow my brow and squeeze my eyes shut in desperate concentration, my double-crossing brain refuses to cooperate.

Instead of the desired unsexy imagery, it drags me right back to that night—her moans, her touch, the way she felt against me .

Frustrated, I snap my eyes open, hoping the visual reset will help.

It doesn’t. Not with her standing there looking like a snack straight out of a decadent dessert case—something sugary, sinful, and impossible to resist. So, despite my valiant mental effort, the bulge below my belly button stays put, smugly refusing to deflate.

I’m known for having control of my body and of the puck when out on the rink, but at the moment, my control has gone to shit. Thanks to her.

She starts to drag her palms down my hips, but it only makes me clench my jaw ferociously enough to turn my molars to powder.

When all my muscles stay just as hard as my cock does, she sighs and glances up toward the ceiling.

It’s like she’s praying for patience or something.

Maybe I’m not the only one feeling annoyed and exasperated.

“Sorry,” I mutter, resenting even having to say it. This never happened when it was Greg rubbing me down.

She pauses and I’m unsure about what she’s about to do.

Is she going to keep trying despite me not being able to get my goddamn body to cooperate?

Is she going to storm out and complain to the league about me, claiming sexual harassment?

Considering our past, she might. And that ignites my fury even further .

I spring up into a seated position, readying to leap off her table and fucking leave when she presses her hand to my abdomen.

I open my mouth to snarl at her when she does the very last thing I might’ve expected.

She flicks the towel aside, exposing the snug silky fabric of my navy boxer briefs.

Then, before I can say or do anything, she reaches into my fly, pulls out my erection, and lowers her open lips over me.

The warmth and moisture of being inside her mouth again has me nearly gasping. I didn’t anticipate her doing this. Not even for a second.

And now that she is, I can’t help but unleash my beast and seize her ponytail in my fist and growl at her. “Did I give you permission to do that, Hottie?”

She doesn’t lift off of me, doesn’t say a word. Instead, she gives me that doe-eyed look that drives me so crazy, that makes me heat up like an inferno. My cock throbs, my balls tightening in a way that warns me that I have to get ahead of this, or it’ll all be over way too quickly.

Even with so much of my blood staying south, it hits me that she might have an agenda. But is it for good or for evil? What the fuck is she up to ?

“Why?” I narrow my gaze at her, frowning and gripping the hair on her head so that my knuckles scrape against her scalp. “Why are you doing this?”

I yank her back from me, not trusting this woman farther than I can physically throw her.

“B-because,” she stammers, but I refuse to feel bad about that. “Because you need to relax.”

What?

She wants to blow me not to take advantage now that she knows who I am, but to relax me? Seriously?

Her eyes become red, and tears are welling up, almost ready to fall. I release my hand part of the way, but I don’t let her go.

“You’d better not being lying to me.”

“I’m not.” This time, two tears fall, trailing past either side of her nose. “I’m not . I thought if you could settle back on the table…”

She trails off, but I’m not convinced.

“Is this your normal M.O.? You blow all your clients? Are you blowing every man on the team?”

What the actual fuck ?

Her expression tightens, as if my words struck a nerve she didn’t expect. “No. Why would you say that?” she snaps, jerking back, and this time, I release my hold. Not fast enough, though, if the strands of hair still in my grip are any indication. I can see she’s conflicted.

“Just… Just Eric,” she says quietly. Her gaze drops for a fraction of a second before meeting mine again, this time clouded with something deeper. “I made him come with my hands because he couldn’t relax, either.” She motions toward my somehow still-hard cock.

That stupid piece of my anatomy just doesn’t know when to quit. That’s when my remorse filters down on to me. At first, it’s like a fine mist, but then it rushes over me like a monsoon, drenching me all over.

There’s no pride in her voice, no bravado, but something implying that this whole situation is affecting her more than she’s letting on.

I’m such an asshole.

“So, you thought the same might work on me,” I fill in the blanks. She simply nods, crossing her arms over her chest as another couple of tears stream down her cheeks. I reach toward her but don’t make contact. “I’m sorry, Ava. I mean it. ”

I do. Not that I expect her to believe me.

Expressing my dominance in the bedroom when she understood the parameters of what I wanted was one thing, but what just went down here and now is something else entirely.

It’s so important to iron out any wrinkles before diving into rough sex, and I just jumped in without doing that.

Worse, not only was I angry at myself, she hadn’t even given her consent.

What the fuck was I thinking? Frustration claws at my insides, coiling tight in my chest until I feel like putting a fist through the wall, just to release some of the tension, just to stop feeling so damn useless.

“I’m really sorry,” I repeat. And only now does my erection soften.

She nods.

And this is why I’m single and always will be. I can’t be with a woman on my own because I can’t seem to obey my own self-established limits. Without Sven and Eric here to rein me in, I make a mess of things every fucking time.

I’m staring at my now flaccid cock feeling nothing but shame.

I close my eyes because I can’t stand to see how thoroughly I’ve failed.

Failed at being a decent human being around Ava.

Failed at following my own rules. Hell, I’ve even failed at getting something as basic as a massage so I can heal properly .

I’m really going for broke today.

I’m tempted to hop off this table and exit my way out of here, but maybe I should let Ava do that first. I may have scared her, after all. The least I can do is allow her the courtesy of leaving without intimidating her further.

The only movement I make is to slip my cock back into my fly, but something about that motion tweaks my shoulder again. Pain radiates through that joint and across my shoulder blades, and I take a sharp intake of breath, wincing, as I grab onto that same sore muscle.

What have I done now?

“Lie back,” Ava orders me from out of the blue, and I glare over at her. Not because I’m mad at her, but because I’m mad at myself. Also, it hurts almost as badly as it did when my injury first occurred.

Basically, like a motherfucker.

Awesome.

We lock gazes, and to my surprise, she’s no longer crying. If anything, she looks to be calm and in command of the situation. Unlike me. Reluctantly, I obey her, even as this minor shift makes the pain worse .

“You jarred it again, didn’t you?” she asks, but I don’t bother to reply. If I just set my recovery back, I’ll never forgive myself.

She manipulates the area around my shoulder, slowly working her way toward the damage. I’m huffing and puffing under my breath, seething because I’m the biggest moron in the world. How could I have undone all the healing with such a tiny movement? What the hell is wrong with me?

When she comes to the area of the injury itself, I nearly come off the table.

“Shit,” I growl like some feral animal. “Goddamn fucking shit .”

“Well, that doesn’t sound good,” she mumbles drolly, and I glower at her. Is she making fun of me? Yet when I take in the expression on her face, it’s fully serious. “Levi, I need to know something. Can you relax for me or not?”

I honestly don’t know. I tried before and failed. And now that I’m in pain, transforming my body into jelly doesn’t feel like an option.

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you willing to let me take whatever measures are necessary to treat you?” This question roars through my mind like it’s a cave. Is she asking me what I think she’s asking me ?

“I’m not exactly in the mood.”

“I can tell,” she says, frowning. But her frown seems to be in concentration, not because she’s upset at me.

“I need you to hold your arm out at a ninety-degree angle as I try to make it feel better. It won’t be as painful or extensive as a reduction for a dislocation, but there will probably be some discomfort involved. Can you handle that?”

Can I handle that? Is she kidding me? In college I had a hairline fracture in my left foot and kept right on playing.

“Yes,” I grumble out as she has me lay face down and puts my arm in the correct position.

Ava begins adjusting the muscles around and in my shoulder as I hold my arm out like she wants.

I don’t even know how much time passes, but by the time she’s done, it feels better.

Much better. When I finally get a chance to twist my head enough to glance at the clock on the wall, I see that I’ve gone past my appointment time.

“Is someone else about to show up?” I ask her.

“No. I left a gap after you so I could take an early lunch. Hold still.”

I’m not sure how I feel about her bossing me around. Normally, I don’t tolerate people telling me what to do outside the rink. But since Ava’s services are tied to that, I suck it up. It's not like we're in the bedroom, despite what happened earlier.

But then, the original issue I had resurfaces as she switches gears to finish the rest of my massage. My dick forgets it's not supposed to react to her this way, and suddenly, I'm fully erect again as she works on my back and thighs.

When she has me flip onto my back, my arousal is impossible to ignore.

I don't know whether to tell her to just go ahead and suck me off or lay here pretending like my cock hasn’t raised itself up like a mainsail on a ship.

My body’s made its choice, though. All my muscles—shoulder included—go taut again.

Ow.

Just shoot me already.

Ava sighs audibly, throwing a hand on her hip. “I don’t think you’re up for your usual antics, you know.”

But I have no clue what she’s talking about. Not with my shoulder aching again. It’s not as bad as before, but still.

Then, her hand returns to my fly, her fingers lingering for a beat before freeing my cock. I freeze, watching her, my breath catching as she pauses, lips slightly parted, as if weighing her next move .

And with a flash of determination, she sinks her mouth over the head of me, her eyes locking onto mine in a way that’s both hesitant and electrifying.

I can’t look away as her head starts to move—tentative at first, then gaining confidence as her tongue glides along my slit before she gobbles me down the back of her throat.

I let my head fall back against the ring at the end of her table, still keeping an eye on everything. She’s treating this almost like it’s a medical procedure, not looking for anything from me other than to get the job done. I start to relax and let the feeling take over.

She sucks me hard, her mouth working me with relentless force, then catches me off guard by cupping my balls and giving them a firm, teasing squeeze.

“Uh-uhn.” The pressure shocks through me, lighting up every nerve as her tongue teases the ridge of my head. It’s too much, too damn fast, and I can’t stop myself.

"I'm about to come," I grunt, but it’s barely a warning before I explode in her throat, my cock pulsing as thick ropes of cum flood her mouth. I expect her to pull back, to tap out when it gets too much. But she doesn’t .

She fucking takes it. And that brings out my dark, possessive urge to grab her hair and tighten it around my wrist again, pushing her head down just a little more as I groan deeply.

“That’s right, Hottie. Be a good girl and swallow every drop for Daddy,” I demand, my voice dangerously low.

And fuck, does she.

She keeps sucking, her tongue working over me, her throat tightening around my length as she takes everything I give her. Even when she lets out the faintest gag, she doesn’t stop. She wants this. Wants to take it all.

And fuck, if that doesn’t make me want to give her even more.

With bliss flooding every inch of my body, I feel like a wet noodle—completely boneless, utterly spent—and I couldn’t care less.

For the first time since stepping foot in here, I’m actually relaxed.

My shoulders, my back, even the nagging pain that’s been haunting me for days— gone. Not a single twinge of discomfort.

Ava’s skilled hands glide over me, smoothing out the final touches of the massage, and at some point, I must drift off because the next thing I know, her soft voice is pulling me back to consciousness .

“Levi? I hate to disturb you, but I have another appointment in fifteen minutes.”

I blink, sluggish and disoriented, up at her. Fifteen minutes? How the hell did time slip away like that?

“But what about your lunch?”

“I was working on you,” she says with a small, knowing smile. “Don’t worry. You needed the extra time.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I promise her, and I will. I didn’t mean to starve her.

“It’s fine. I’m going to step out so you can get dressed,” she says as primly as someone who hasn’t just swallowed my climax like a champ.

Still, I get dressed and head out, not seeing hide or hair of her as I lumber out of the facility. No parting glance, no final words—just silence, leaving me with nothing but the warm touch of her and the weight of everything left unsaid.