Page 134 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Camden: You are in so much fucking trouble.

Another text followed after that.

Camden: Where are you? I’ll send an employee to get you.

Camden: Anastasia! I’m serious.

I frantically typed back an answer before he could send any more texts.

Me: I’m fine. Put your phone away right now!

He didn’t answer, and I settled back into the seat with a sigh, trying to relax and focus on the game.

My phone rang the second the period ended and the players left the ice.

“Just tell me where you are,” Camden purred, sounding slightly out of breath—because he was just out playing a game in front of tens of thousands of freaking people.

“Get off the phone,” I hissed. The person next to me, a wizened old grandma-looking woman, gave me a very unimpressed look.

“I’m not going down there. And you can’t make me if I don’t tell you where I am.”

There was a long pause, long enough that my heartbeat started to race.

“You’re being a brat, Anastasia,” he finally murmured in a silky, dangerous sounding, terrifying voice. “And you know what happens to brats?”

“What?” I whispered back, my clit throbbing from his sexy tone.

“They get spanked.”

With that...he hung up.

And I was left with a giant wet spot on my panties.

I was a throbbing, panting mess for the rest of the game, squirming in my seat every time Camden was shown on the Jumbotron.

An unfortunate situation when you had a disapproving grandma-type character sniffing every time you moved.

Camden played amazing.

Granted...I still knew very little about hockey, but judging by the crowd’s reaction every time he got the puck...he was on fire out there.

He didn’t text me again, and my anticipation only grew. Like there was a direct line from the game clock to my throbbing core.

Embarrassing, really.

The final buzzer sounded, and the Knights won.

The crowd went nuts, streamers pouring down from the ceiling as the team briefly celebrated before filing off the ice.

A text came in then.

Camden: Don’t move from your seat until I tell you.

Well then.

I could follow that direction. Now that the game was over and fans were pouring out the exits.

And the Jumbotron had switched from the crowd to a final score graphic.

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