Page 7 of Pucking Vamps

I shuck off my hoodie and shorts, donning my practice gear. My skates are at the bottom of the locker, so retrieving them is a wince-worthy effort that I fail to contain. Aside from my ass, my hips are also a little sore, reminding me just how thoroughly Club Guy fucked me last night.

Here you are thinking about the hookup again, Hayden, when you should be rushing out to the rink, so Coach doesn’t tell you off for being late.

“Uh-oh, that didn’t sound good. Too much fun last night, Hayden?” Nick smacks me on the ass, laughing.

I startle and whip my head back, almost head-butting him in the chin. Fortunately, his reflexes are quick enough to spare us both the unpleasant experience.

“Jesus, dude. You know I hate people sneaking up on me,” I complain, stifling another groan as I adjust my skates and grab my helmet. Then I follow him out of the changing room.

“Is that why you disappeared off with that guy last night? ‘Coz you just hated how he ambushed you on the stairs and had to make him regret it?” he snorts, fisting his hands and humping the air.

I can’t help the grin. “You saw that?”

He pushes open the rink gate. “Yep. My heart legit did a freaking space launch. I thought you were gonna fly over the railing with the way the dude made you jump.”

I was shocked because even though I was alert, I didn’t sense Club Guy until he had me trapped. But that’s also part of what’s making it kind of hard to forget my pleasant encounter with him.

“Was distracted and he scared me,” I confess. We make it over to the bench and put our water bottles down, then make sure our helmets are secured.

“Clearly not enough to turn him down. So how was he?” Nick hums, blowing a loose blond lock that’s stuck to his cheek. He wears his hair longer than mine, the tips grazing his shoulders. “Please tell me he was at least a six. You deserve it after the shitty day you had.”

A six? Yeah, nah, try a sixty. Wherein lies the fucking problem. Like seriously, how am I supposed to get over a one-night stand when it scored a hundred out of ten across the board? And that’s not even counting the whole Daddy thing my stupid brain decided to try, or the fact that the dude seemed kind of into it.

I school the goofy grin that’s threatening to break out into a somber expression and give my friend a hard, stern look. His lips curl, eyebrows slanting downward in sympathy as he squeezes my arm reassuringly.

“He was a-fucking-mazing. Best sex I’ve ever had,” I tell him, snorting at the end as his expression transforms from worry to friendly irritation.

He scoffs, shaking his head and swatting my thigh. “Smartass. And here I was genuinely worried that his nice-looking ass couldn’t even get you off.”

I stretch my elbow. Do I tell Nick I’m the one that got railed, or do I uphold my toppy top image? Considering I’m never seeing Club Guy again, I suppose I can omit the fact that I had my slutty bottom awakening last night.

Reminding myself of that brings out shivers of desire that concentrate in my core. My hole clenches, and my dick gives a twitch. Fuck. I’m sort of getting horny now and practice hasn’t even started yet. I’m also a bit worried, but not like worried worried. It’s just that it was my first time taking dick last night and I can’t stop thinking about it. The tension, the stretch, the slight burn that came with that addictive sensation of fullness… The way I was at the mercy of another man for once.

“Yo, Hayden. You OK, dude?” Nick calls out, pausing a few strides ahead of me on the ice. “Get your head in the game, yeah? Coach still looks like he’s out for blood. Don’t give him another chance to use you for his outlet.”

I slide the shield down and take a deep breath. Nick is right. I need to focus, not daydream. My dick can wait for its turn.

“Coming!” I shout and head toward the blue lines.

“You sure you can do that, Johnson?” Park yells, making a jerking off motion with his hand. “Or should I give you a free lesson?”

I veer sharply to the right and beeline toward that asshole, mind reeling as I squeeze my stick so I don’t throw it at him. “What’s your fucking problem, man? You didn’t get any and woke up with your dick in your ass or something?”

His nostrils flare and he pushes past his buddies, glaring daggers at me as he rushes right for me.

“ENOUGH!”

We both freeze, snapping our heads to the left. Coach is standing by the bench, his bulging arms crossed over his chest. A massive scowl graces his rugged face.

“Either stop this nonsense, or I am benching you both. We’ve got plenty of others who’d love to take your spots in the showcase game.”

I glare at Park, but spin around and return to my position. Practice begins and goes well until we change sides, at which point Coach steps out for a few minutes to take a phone call. Things kind of go sideways before I even realize it. One second I have hold of the puck, and in the next, Park collides with me, snatching it with his stick and ruining the shot I was lining up. He gets lucky and scores, but it should’ve been me. I had it all set up until that asshole decided he didn’t care we are on the same team if it means stealing the spotlight.

“The fuck was this, Park?!” I shove my shoulder into his, panting and trying not to punch him. I’m squeezing the stick so hard I can feel it digging into my flesh even with the gloves on.

“Don’t be so fucking slow next time, eh, Johnson? The fans like action, not foreplay,” he says, humping his stick. “Oh wait. I forgot you can’t even get laid. My bad, buddy. But if you go sit on the bench and give up your first line position, I’ll buy you a whore.”

My ears hiss, hot waves spiraling down from my head. I’m going to explode from how much my body is vibrating with the need to hit him. Or kill him.

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