Page 17 of My Pucking Crush

Flipping over, I grab my cock like I do every morning to beat off, sometimes in my crappy bed, or even crappier shower. Knowing Max is only a few feet away, my cock hardens, begging for release.

With little sleep the night before, and the long day moving in here, I passed out the minute my head hit the pillow.

I lift my head. “Shit.”

Grabbing my phone, alarmed it’s dead, I realize I didn’t bother plugging it in.Fuck!

The team has morning skate today. The security agents take shifts for non-game-day rituals. But I’m protecting Max Ryan, so if he’s on the ice, I’m supposed to be there too, whether it’s the practice facility, or the Crusher’s state-of-the-art arena.

Security agents like me rotate a schedule for home and away games. Working as Max’s personal bodyguard yanks me out of that routine.

With sleep pants hanging low on my hips, I open the bedroom door, startled to see the full view of Max’s bedroom. His door is wide open, and instincttells me he’s not inside.

“Max?” I call out to him anyway.

“He left,” a voice behind me makes me jump.

I’m seconds away from throwing this person against the wall, when I realize it’s an older woman in a messy bun with a dishtowel slung over one shoulder.

“Who are you?” I yell, still worried who the heck this is. I’m firing on all cylinders with just a hard-on and not my other heat.

“I’m his housekeeper, you don’t have to shout.”

“You said he left?” Anger still rockets through my veins. “When?”

“As soon as I got here.” She shifts from side to side. “Can I make up your room?”

Max’s bed is made up, so she’s been here a while.

“I’m sorry.” Shaking my head, I add, “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“You’re a guest. I take care of Mr. Ryan’s guests.”

And probably the dishes in the sink. I hope that’s why Max left the kitchen a disaster.

“I’m not really a guest. I’m working. I’m supposed to be guarding him.”

“Whoops...” She chuckles. “Looks like he gave you the slip.”

“Not for long.” I turn away.

“I have coffee made, unless you prefer tea. And I can make your breakfast.”

“No time.”

“I make Mr. Ryan protein shakes and egg sandwiches for his early practices like today.”

My stomach grumbles. Just as I want Max to let me do my damn job, this woman feels the same way, I bet.

“Sure.” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, your name?”

“Gilda. You?”

“Luca.”

“Very rugged. I’ll have everything prepared by the time you’re ready to leave.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, just leaves me standing there.

I know I need a shower, but I need to get to the practice facility and ring Max’s neck ASAP.

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