Page 38 of Her Puck Daddies

I need to come. And that means she has to come first.

Bracing myself back up on my arms, I press her deeper into the mattress, my hands sinking into the pillow on either side of herhead. I thrust harder, chasing the pleasure, fucking the tenderness out of my mind until we shatter together.

“I want you to come for me, Hottie. Now.” My voice is rough, commanding, and her body surrenders to my mercy.

As if her body is in perfect sync with my orders, her pussy cinches down on my cock in tight, radiating waves that have me clenching my jaw, fighting for control. I could let go. I could give in to the intoxicating grip of her, but no. I’m the one in charge. I decide when this ends.

So I keep going, wildly bucking into her with the same force I use on the ice. This isn’t just fucking anymore, it's winning.

With this shift surging through me, I slap her perfect tits, watching the soft flesh bounce beneath my palm, relishing the deep, muffled moan that escapes from her gagged mouth. I do it again, and her body shudders against mine.

“You like that, don’t you?”

She nods in submission, and fuck, I love that. So, I do it again, demanding her to come for me again. And she does, her body shaking with no restraint.

But I’m not done with her yet.

I yank her leg down, twisting her hip into a partial reverse spoon, exposing her ass. I stay buried inside her, moving with her. From the side, I push two fingers past the tight ring of her ass, stretching her open while I slam my cock into her cunt.

She fucks me back aggressively, urgently, taking everything I give her. Her body clamps down, milking my cock and my fingers at once, her pleasure spiraling out of control until she shatters for the third time—screaming into her panties, her body convulsing in my arms.

And fuck, I can’t fight it anymore.

Pleasure rips through me like a lightning strike, raw and all-consuming. My cock pulses as I spill inside the condom, every muscle in my body locking up before finally giving out. I collapse beside her, breathless, my seed flooding the barrier between us.

Breathing hard, I reach up, fingers brushing her swollen lips, and finally remove the soaked panties from her mouth, letting her gasp in air.

We lay there, bodies spent. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a lingering reminder of everything I just took from her.

Once I get enough air to move more than an inch, I reach up and carefully loosen the knot around Ava's wrists, freeing her from the headboard. I take my time rubbing her skin, making sure she gets enough circulation, and there are no burns or bruises.

She’s just fine. I watch her chest rise and fall in slow, steady breaths, her body relaxed, satisfied. If she’s fine, I’m fine.

After a few minutes, I sit up, flicking on the light by my side of the bed. No blood, no welts, just the outlines of where my hands claimed her, where my teeth marked her. My cock stirs at the sight, but I push it down. There’s no time for round three.

Instead, I grab a damp towel, cleaning her up gently before I let myself sink back down into the mattress. My body craves sleep, but my mind drifts to the last time something like this happened—when Ava snuck out of my hotel room before sunrise.

But this time, the room isn’t mine. If anyone should be sneaking out now, it’s me.

Our jet is scheduled to leave at nine, so I set my alarm. And at 5:30 AM, I slip out of bed to sneak back to my room and pack, leaving Ava tangled in the sheets, lost in her dreams, completely unaware that I’m gone.

Chapter 14

LEVI

Despite my shoulder healing and me managing to do a decent job at the Rangers game, the following week, all my fundamentals go to crap. It’s like I’ve been hurled back to when I was in the bantam league. Every time I try to anticipate where the puck will go, I guess wrong. It’s absurd, really. I have all these years of experience plus instincts I’ve come to depend on. There’s no reason for me to suck this bad.

Yet, I do.

I suck so hard that when we go up against the Montreal Canadiens, I let in way too many goals. So many that we lose by a point. I’m furious at myself and throw my pads into my locker so violently that Sven and Eric both come running.

“Whoa, dude, don’t worry about it. It just wasn’t your night,” my captain says.

Logically, I know he’s right. Sometimes goalies have off nights that aren’t their fault. But this feels like my fault because it is.

Eric even goes so far as to clap me on the shoulder.

“You’ll hold them off next time, man.”