Page 16 of Good Pucking Luck

I haven’t told him about Harry, and I’m not sure why. I guess because I was nervous that if I’d had a shitty game the day after, we would have blamed it on my lack of sleep because I went out to blow some random guy. Then I’d played so well, I didn’t want it in my head that Harry could be the reason why. But now I don’t have much choice in sharing. Whatever this curse is he put on me hasn’t lifted, and I need my buddy’s help.

“The night before our game in Seattle, I couldn’t sleep. I met some dude in the hotel bar, hit it off with him, had maybe the best mutual blowjobs of my life, and then…well, you know what happened.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Exactly. The guy with magic cum lives in Seattle.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe you’ll get your mojo back on your own. If you found him and did it again, you might end up in the situation where you had to blow him before every game to play well.”

I toss around that possibility for a moment. “Yeah, well. It would be worth it.” No. What am I thinking? That shouldn’t be the first thing to pop into my head.

“It’s not practical. Maybe you should blow someone else to, like, wipe off the residual…whatever the fuck. Because it’s like he gave you one good game and then ruined you for all the others.”

“Gee, thanks.” But his words feel true. A week is an eternity to me.

Mads gives me a bashful grin. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Anyway. I tried that. I blew someone before the game in Tampa Bay, remember?” It hadn’t been nearly as good as with Harry, but I’d made up some excuse about needing an orgasm to blow some steam off and, well, I’m still sucking ass and not in a fun way.

“I don’t know what to tell you, buddy. I’m all out of ideas. All I know is you gotta get your shit together. We need you out there.Ineed you out there.”

He does. They do.Fuuuck.Stupid, amazing blowjob ruining my life. “Thanks, man. I’ll fix it.”

Mads stands and puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “I know you will. Do you want to try and blow me? I’d be willing to take one for the team. I’m pretty sure I have some magic cum.”

Chuckling, I look up at him, and he winks playfully. He’s joking around…I think. Mads and I never hooked up, and while I’ve had plenty of no-strings-attached sex with people I’m friends with, I’m fairly certain having sex with my teammate isn’t a good idea. And while Mads doesn’t hook up often, he does from time to time, and I know he doesn’t really want more from me. “You want the mushy stuff,” I tease.

He blanches. “Not from you.”

I clutch my chest. “Ouch. Kick a guy while he’s down, why don’t you?”

Mads rolls his eyes as if I’m being ridiculous, and really, I know I am. “Don’t take it personally. I would just never date a hockey player.”

“You are a hockey player.”

“Exactly, and I wouldn’t want to date me.”

I can see where he’s coming from. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’d want to date me either.”

We chat while we finish getting dressed, then head our separate ways. We have a home game tomorrow night, which means I’ll probably spend as much time as I can resting up before that, so I go from the practice facility straight home.

Puck looks at me from his perch on the back of the couch. I’m pretty sure he’s wondering why I dare enter his domain. I like animals, but with my schedule I needed something that’s independent. Puck is that to a fault, but then when he’s in themood for attention, I better rub exactly how he wants, or he’ll scratch up my couch or vomit on my lap. It’s happened. More than once.

“Hey, Pucky.” I pet his head, and if cats could roll their eyes, I’m fairly certain that’s what he just did. “I love you too.”

I take my shit to the laundry room, immediately tossing my gear into the wash. I close the lid just before my doorbell rings.

I frown, not sure who would be coming over, and hoping it’s not an overeager fan. It’s only happened twice, and luckily, both times they were harmless. Some of the other guys live in gated communities, but I love my house and don’t want to move. Plus, while I can’t pretend I don’t like being famous, I also want to live as normal a life as possible.

I make my way back through the house, getting side-eyed by Pucky. I look through the peephole and…What the fuck?My heart races while confusion twists up my gut. I tug the door open. “Harry?” What is he doing in LA? More importantly, how in the fuck does he know where I live?

“That’s enough of that Mister Innocent act. You know my name isn’t Harry.” He pushes around me and comes into my house like he owns the place. Maybe I should be annoyed, but for a reason I can’t understand, I find his outburst cute.

I close the door behind him. “Well, yeah. I knew, but—”

“Aha! So you admit it? At least you’re not gonna try and lie your way out of it.” He keeps moving into my living room, and I have no real choice except to follow him like he’s calling the shots here. I might be slightly—or a lot—confused on how the fuck he found me, but part of me is glad he did. If he’s here, then maybe I can test out his cock again to see if it gives me back my hockey superpowers.

“You’ll have to backtrack like five or maybe even a hundred steps here,Harry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Butthen it hits me that he must have known who I am the whole time. How else would he be here?

---