Page 25 of Stand Your Ground

“Right next to the video of you fanning the puck when you had a wide-open net, right?” Aleks chimed in. “You need a GPS for that puck, bud?”

“Someone get the man an AirTag,” Jaxson added.

Everyone laughed again, and I tongued my cheek against a smile before chasing them all into the ice baths with a snap of my towel.

Ten minutes later, I was in a meditative state — ice water up to my chin, eyes shut, brain muffling out the noise of the guys still chattering around me. Beneath those closed eyelids, a reel of everything I’d done right and wrong flashed on replay. I tried to do what our sports psychologist advised, taking what I could from each mistake before leaving them in the past, and making a moment to applaud myself for the achievements.

That last part was harder than the first.

Even when I did do something worth being proud of, I had to fight against my old coach’s voice inside my head adding a negative spin.

Sure, you scored — but you could have scored twice if you wouldn’t have missed that open net.

You won the draw. Big fucking deal. Never mind that you lost the puck in turnover a fucking youth player could have avoided.

Oh, patting yourself on the back for that pass, are you? If you were a better player, you would have shot the puck yourself. But you were too scared, weren’t you?

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as the thoughts battered me, and I tried to visualize me swatting them away with a stick like they were rogue pucks just like my therapist had taught me.

It did help.

But only temporarily.

I knew it wouldn’t stop the barrage from coming in the future.

Once the reel highlights had died down and my brain was mush just like my body, I finally let my mind wander to Livia.

If I were listing out things I was proud of at the moment, then making that woman come would be at the top of the list.

Even a week later, just thinking about the sweet sounds she’d made had me eager for round two. The fact that I’d been the one responsible for those noises, that I’d made her fly apart with my mouth alone?

It was enough to make me feel like I deserved the MVP award.

Of course, my next thought was one that made me groan and shake my head. I still couldn’t believe I’d blown my wad without her touching me, without herpermission, as she’d said. I knew I wasn’t her sub in the traditional sense of the word, butfuck, I loved when she went Domme on me. I loved the little bits of degradation, the control she exercised, the way she made it clear who was calling the shots.

It made me feel free to explore, to try new things, to fuck up and not have serious hell to pay. I’d been ashamed when I came, but she’d quickly made sure I knew I didn’t need to feel that way.

She’d said it was hot.

She’d assured me she’d help me with that control.

She hadn’t berated me or made me feel like shit, even playfully, and she could never know how much that meant to me.

My skin burned as I pulled my body from the tub when I couldn’t take anymore, and I wrapped a towel around my waist before padding to my locker and pulling out my phone.

I texted Livia without a second thought.

Me:Whiffed a goal and they won’t let me live it down. Might need one of your “confidence building” sessions later. Preferably involving handcuffs.

It was late on the East Coast, so I was surprised when the gray letters spelled outREADunder the text. Seconds later, she was typing back.

Doctor Pain:Ouch. I’m with the girls and we had the game on. If it makes you feel any better, we only laughed a little bit. Like five solid minutes.

Me:Laughing is the last thing I want to make you do right now.

Doctor Pain:Oho. That line had a little growl in it. What is it you do want to make me do, Rookie?

Me:Moan the way you did last week.