Page 106 of Puck Prince

“Negative.”

“This?” She reaches behind my knee, and I jump. “That hurt?”

“No, it tickles.”

She rolls her eyes a second time. “I think you’re going to be okay. But we will keep an eye on it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She continues to massage my leg. “What happened out there?”

“I got bulldozed. You saw it.”

“No, I mean, why were you so off today? You usually see hits like that coming. I’d go as far as to say you’re intuitive about it. So what happened?”

“Youhappened.” My words are honest enough to shock myself and her, apparently. Her hands freeze on my skin.

It’s crickets for a second as she pauses, and then picks it back up again. She massages deeper, working her way around my knee, down my calf, and then back up to my thigh. No longer do her hands feel cold and clinical. They’re warm and… sensual.

The thing about spandex boxer briefs? They show everything. And right now, every mixed up, confusing thing I’ve felt in the last couple days is straining against the material, preparing to burst.

“You need to take it easy.” Callie’s words are suddenly velvety. “Before something bad happens.”

“What kind of something? And how bad?” I’m practically foaming at the mouth. It’s been a minute since I’ve gotten off, and I feel like this woman has the power to end me without even actually doing the deed.

“Pulling a muscle. You wouldn’t want to be bedridden in the middle of a season, would you?”

“Depends on what’s being ridden in my bed…”

Her hand slides higher on my thigh. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who is literally at my mercy.”

My God, is she actually doing this right now? I might be a little out of sorts lately, but I’m coherent enough to know she’s not talking about physical therapy anymore.

“Don’t shoot the shot if you’re not going to follow through.” I grit my teeth to keep myself from begging. “I don’t want your mercy. I want—” My words die when her hand brushes my crotch.

She clicks her tongue. “My word, somebody is tense…”

Yep. She’s actually doing this. Right now. Right here.

I wonder if the door is locked. But then again, everyone is at the game, which is only half-over. We could still be in the center of the rink, and I’m not sure I’d stop her.

“Is this helping?”

“You know damn well what it’s doing, Callie.”

Callie’s hand strokes up and down my cock from the base to the tip, over and over. The movements are slow, painfully so.

“Callie…” She knows what she’s doing. A little faster and it’ll all be over. I’ll be over.

“Somebody want more?” She bites her lip, and I grip the edges of the table. I only manage a frantic nod.

“Say it.”

“I want… more.”

I want everything.

“Again.”

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