Page 28 of Pucking Never

“Anytime, babe. If you ever need anything else, just call.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I hang up the call and drop my phone beside me on the bed. Talking to Skyler has made me feel lighter. Less burdened. As if just venting my confusion and frustration was enough to help me think clearer. Pushing to my feet, I decide to push Jensen from my mind for the time being. I’ve let him dominate my thoughts for too long and I need to focus on something else. Like work, for instance. I have video and pictures of Carson that I need to create into content for his social media profiles, and I’m not the type of person to let my professional life falter because my personal life is a complicated mess.

I make some coffee, settle at my desk, turn on some music, and dive into the sea of images and videos. The rhythmic click-clacking of my fingers on the keyboard soothes me, transporting me to a calmer place where there is no Jensen, no hockey players, and no secrets. Just me, my computer, and the desire to make Carson look every bit as flawless as he thinks he is.

The day flies by in a blur as I create posts and schedule them to go out throughout the next week. I’m so immersed in my work that I don’t even notice the sun dipping behind the horizon until my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten all day.

Taking a short break, I heat up leftovers and munch on chicken fried rice while scrolling through my phone, checking social media. As I’m looking through my Instagram, I wonder if Jensen has a profile. He has to, right? It’d be almost irresponsible for a public figure like him not to have one.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek, right? To compare his posts to the ones I’ve made for Carson. That’s all. There’s absolutely no other reason for me to check out his profile. Nope. None at all.

I open the app and type in his name, heart thudding in anticipation. It doesn’t take me long to find him. Thankfully, his profile isn’t private, so I don’t have to follow him to snoop. I would literally die of embarrassment if he knew I was doing this.

Scrolling through his pictures, I can’t help but admire how well his profile is curated. Whoever he has on his social media team knows what they’re doing. The images are sharp, the captions are engaging, and the hashtags are relevant. When I come across a shirtless picture of him, I pause.

Damn. This man is something else.

The image is posed, and he’s wearing his gear from the waist down, but no helmet and … well, nothing, from the waist up. He has a hockey stick resting across his shoulders and his hands draped over it as he gazes off to the side, showing off his chiseled profile. His defined pecs and rock hard abs have a bit of shine to them. Did they oil him up for this picture?

And just like that, I’m imagining myself sliding my hands over his torso. Running my fingers along every dip and ridge. Reaching down to his pants and undoing them so I can push them down… down… down…

A gasp of breath escapes me and my cheeks flush.

I toss my phone aside like it’s a spider. What am I doing? I was trying not to let myself get distracted by thoughts of Jensen, and yet here I am, ogling his Instagram like an out of control puck bunny. No more. I’m not going to let myself slide down this very slippery slope.

Well, maybe another peek wouldn’t be so bad.

I snatch my phone back up and gaze down at the picture again. He really is stupid good-looking. His dark hair and beard make him look rugged. Memories from our night together rise up in my mind. The feel of his fingers brushing along my skin. The touch of his lips brushing against mine. His tongue between my legs.

Christ, it’s getting hot all of the sudden. I can feel myself getting wet and my core is throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. My fingers start twitching as the urge to touch myself slowly burns through me. Biting my lip, I try to resist. I shouldn’t play with myself to pictures of Jensen. That would be awkward. Weird. Inappropriate.

Damn it. I’m going to do it, aren’t I?

Sighing in defeat, I walk back into my bedroom and slip out of my pants. Crawling up onto my bed, I rest my back against my pillows and get settled, letting my knees fall wide as I trail my fingers up my inner thigh, teasing myself. When I reach my panties, I pause and stare down at Jensen’s picture. Swallowing, I toss the phone to the side and lie back, closing my eyes as I reach between my legs.

I hiss out a breath at the first stroke of my fingers through my pussy. It feels good. Not as good as when Jensen was touching me, but still. I can’t help but relax, throwing my other arm over my head, and surrendering completely as I let my imagination run free.

Dark dangerous eyes, staring up at me from the edge of the bed. His firm rock hard body slowly crawls towards me, as the corner of his lips turn up into a smirk.

“You’re touching yourself while you think of me?” he says in a low, rumbling voice. “Naughty girl. Didn’t get enough last night?”

I gaze down at him as I circle a finger over my clit, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I fight to hold back my moans. Moans that only he creates within me.

He tsks and shakes his head.

“What are you doing?” he growls. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear how good you’re making yourself feel.”

“I can’t…” I whimper, my lip finding its way between my teeth. “I need you.”

“No… I want you to do it. Show me how wet you can make yourself.”

It’s like I can’t resist his commands. I release my lip and a moan immediately slips free. His eyes darken and his jaw tenses. “Yeah, that’s it,” he tells me. “I love the sounds you make. Keep going, baby. Keep playing with that pretty pussy for me.”

I whimper and rub my clit harder. The tell-tale tightening deep in my belly takes me by surprise. I’m going to cum already?

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