I shake my head at their boyish antics and sit on the bench so I can remove my skates.
“Who was it?” another one of our rookies, Jason, asks.
“Why do you want to know?” I wonder. Because at the end of the day, it’s not important to them. Though I wish I knew so I could take her out and get to know her better.
Jason shrugs. “Well…sounds like she’s good luck.”
The entire room goes still, and I swear I could hear a pin drop. Hockey is an extremely superstitious sport. The hair on the back of my neck rises at his words.
“Oh, shit,” Johnny murmurs, shoving my shoulder. “Guess you’d better find out who she is. Or who they—”
“Johnny,” I warn again, my eyes narrowing to slits. He’s fucking goading me, and I want to kick his ass back to California.
“Damn, Luke! You don’t know who you slept with?” Jason asks.
I wipe my face off with a towel and groan. Fuck. I was doing great until right now. Why the hell did Jason have to go and say that?
“It’s complicated,” I grumble, taking off my shin pads and the rest of my gear below the waist.
“So you got laid, played one of the best games of your career, and you don’t even know the woman’s name who blessed you with this amazing gift?”
I throw my gloves in my locker and stand naked before my team as I wrap a towel around my waist. “It’s not important.”
“Bullshit!” Jason says. “You have to find out who she is.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “She’s not my good luck.”
“You know what happens when you deny good luck,” Johnny counters, his voice serious.
I grumble and turn away from them, making my way to the showers. I can hear Johnny and Jason following behind me along with several of our other team members. Fuck, they’re like dogs with a bone when they get like this. And look, I get it. If this wasn’t me, I’d be doing the same. You don’t mess with hockey superstitions. Bad shit happens when you do.
When I first started playing on this team, one of the veteran defensemen had a rule that his socks were never to be washed. Literally never. We couldn’t even spray Febreze on the disgusting things. One night, someone threw them in the laundry bin, and well…the very first game he played with fresh socks, he was taken down, tore his meniscus, and had to retire.
Everyone has some ritual that they perform, and they do it religiously. I meditate before each game using the same ten-minute tape. If someone interrupts me, I do it again. Johnny tapes his stick a certain way, and several of the other guys have stretches or warmups they do in a certain order. We all have something we do. The fact that they’ve made my time with Cherry the reason we won tonight…fuck. Now my mind is spinning.
I put my towel on the hook and turn on the shower to the hottest setting before stepping under the spray. It scalds my skin, but the pain is welcome. I’ve now gone from the highest high to having a stomachache. I need a Tums—or maybe ten. I hear more of the showers turn on as I hang my head against my chest. I have no idea who Cherry is.
“There isn’t another party until next month, and we’re away,” Johnny says quietly, as if he’s reading my mind.
I shake my head at him to tell him not to say anything else. I’ll have to figure it out later. But I can’t deny that last night got me out of my slump. Cherry, with the help of Angel, helped me regain control. Being with them, feeling Cherry’s mouth around me, her pussy, that cute fucking pep talk she gave me…it all helped. And it wasn’t just the sex, either. It was her.
I bite back a groan as I dispense some soap into my hands and quickly wash my body, steering my thoughts away from remembering everything that happened. I don’t know where to find her, so I’m going to have to deal with the fact that it was a one-time thing. I’ll have to figure out how to keep that luck, that feeling of control, with me on and off the ice. Because all I’ve got right now is the memory of her and those cherry-red lips.
Chapter seven
Stevie
Today sucked major ass. I woke up sex-hungover with a pounding headache from only a few hours of sleep. Then my roommate, Margo, didn’t give me her half of the rent again, which is already over two weeks late. And don’t even get me started on the late bill for our internet. It’ll get shut off soon if I don’t pay it within the next few days.
And to make matters worse, she also left the door to the refrigerator open while I was gone last night, so all our food went bad. Who even does that? The door dings when we leave it open, for God sakes! So on top of everything, I had to make a huge trip to the grocery store and use over half my pay from last night to buy the essentials. That also meant I couldn’t bask in the post-fucking-of-my-life haze.
My pussy clenches from the memory of Lucas moving inside me and Nia laid out before me. God, that dick. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I used to wonder why people were into cock worship at the club—now I know. I’d worship at the altar of that beauty any day.
I let Fangirl Stevie have a moment and internally kick my feet and giggle like a schoolgirl.
Lucas. Sexy God. MVP. McKnight.
I really can’t believe we had sex. And he fucked my mouth. At a sex club. In front of other people. Did I mention he’s also the reason my day sucked?