Page 35 of Pucking Amazing

DJ hums, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Standing offer. Trust me, I’ve got mad skills...on and off the ice.”

I’m sure he does. The thought alone has me half hard already.

This flirty back-and-forth promises so much more, and I’m quickly getting addicted to the rush. I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in my life. And from the hungry look in his dark eyes, it’s mutual.

Fuck it.

Before I can even process what I’m doing, I stand up from the locker room bench and lean in to kiss DJ, finding his lips soft and insistent against my own.

My mind goes blissfully blank, my body taking over as I kiss him with a hunger that surprises us both.

DJ responds instantly, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. Heat radiates from his body, the firm muscles under his skin pressing against mine. His kiss deepens and I let out a low moan, my hands moving to tangle in his damp hair.

We stumble back and I press him against the lockers, our bodies aligning perfectly.

Breaking the kiss for air, DJ rests his forehead against mine, his breath coming out in ragged pants.

“Tyler,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. And then his lips are back on mine.

The kiss deepens, and I can taste the mint on his breath as our tongues slide together. It’s intoxicating, dizzying. We lose ourselves in the sensation, hands roaming and tongues tangling.

Until the sound of approaching footsteps jolts us back to reality and we spring apart.

Several of our teammates burst in from the showers, joking and laughing loudly, and in the chaos I grab a towel and practically sprint out of the room, leaving a stunned DJ in my wake. I don’t stop running until I’m safely locked in a shower stall.

I turn on the water and lean my forehead against the cool tile, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

Holy shit. Did that really just happen? Did I seriously just make out with DJ?

The hot water cascades over my body as I replay that electrifying kiss with DJ in my mind. Fuck, his lips felt so good on mine. My hand unconsciously drifts lower, wrapping around my aching cock as I imagine DJ’s strong, capable fingers in place of my own.

I bite back a moan, hips rocking into my fist.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the pleasure, imagining that I’m back in the locker room, where DJ slams me up against the lockers, hands sliding beneath the waistband of my pants to grip my ass. He sinks to his knees, tugging my pants down and taking my throbbing length deep into his skillful mouth.

The fantasy of DJ’s lips wrapped around me is almost too much to bear. I pump faster, the slick sound of my hand slapping against my skin echoing in the steam-filled shower.

My breath catches as pleasure builds, and I imagine DJ redoubling his efforts, my cock hitting the back of his throat, him moaning around my rock-hard length. I picture Sydney suddenly walking in on us, eyes dark with unmistakable desire as she watches DJ work me over.

The erotic image pushes me over the edge. My body shudders as I spill over my fist with a muffled cry of pleasure. As the intense high fades, confusion clouds my post-orgasmic bliss.

Where the hell does Sydney come into all of this?

CHAPTER 11

DJ

A few days after my electric locker room kiss with Tyler, I stretch out on a lounge chair by the hotel pool, soaking up the Florida sun. My shades are on but my eyes keep drifting to my phone sitting on the little table next to me.

I keep hoping it’ll buzz with a text from Sydney. Or Tyler. But it stays annoyingly silent.

Tyler seemed so eager the other day. I was thrilled that he was finally admitting that there was something between us, that he finally seemed ready to explore it. But then…nothing.

He’s obviously still working through it. I know sexuality isn’t a simple thing, particularly if you’re learning something new about yourself as an adult, when you already have a set idea of who you are.

But man…I hope he figures it out soon. I’d really like to pick up where we left off.

I sigh and let my head fall back, my mind drifting to last night’s game instead. We kicked ass out there on the ice, and I can’t help grinning as I replay the sick goal I made in the second period. Their defense was all over me but I deked left, then right, leaving them grasping at air as I flicked the puck top shelf, bar down. The red goal light flashing was sweet vindication.

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