Page 1 of Puck I Did It Again

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Wynn

You got this. Youare a strong, independent woman who is more than capable of coaching a male pro hockey team. You've coached in the minor leagues; this is no different.

I repeat the affirmations a couple more times before I let the acting head coach lead me through the locker room to meet mynew team, the Iowa Poseidon. It's true I've coached in the minor leagues. Four years ago, at twenty-five, I was the first female to coach in the men's minor league. Now ,I'll be the second female to coach in the men's major league.

It's an exciting time for women in pro sports, with Teagan Hayes playing for the formally all-male pro hockey team, the Minnesota Norse. Opening up the door for more women to compete on the highest skill level and ,of course, for women to coach men's teams.

The locker room is full of half-naked men eyeing me suspiciously. Being introduced to my new team right after practice wasn't my idea, but Don, the acting coach, felt the element of surprise would be the best for the team since the shock of having a woman coach might make them retreat to the locker room unless I make it known the locker room isn't off limits to me because I'm a female.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to your new head coach, Wynn Flannery."

"Hello, everyone," I say in my most authoritative voice, the one that has been known to stop grown men cold in their tracks. It's not that I want them to fear me, but I can't have them trying to walk all over me, either. I'm their head coach—they need to respect the position, if not the person.

A smattering of "hi" and "hello" fills the air as each player eyes me with either a look of disdain at being female or curiosity for the same reason. I need to get a handle on this before it gets out of control.

"I look forward to meeting with each of you individually to assess your skills and commitment to the team. I also have an open-door policy, meaning I'm available to talk in person or on the phone. But I am not your babysitter. You should all have agents or managers that take care of that part of your professional and personal life. I'm very active in all areas of coaching. Like your last coaches, I will be in the locker room. "The grumbling begins, so I say the first thing I can think of to squash the brewing storm, "So, gentlemen, I suggest you cover up what you don't want seen, and I'll see everyone bright and early tomorrow morning."

A few of the players laugh. A few grumble louder before going back to their after-practice routines. But one does the unexpected and drops his towel from his waist, leaving him completely and utterly naked—his skin still glistening from the shower. A drop of water falls from his hair, making a trail down his chest and across his abs before falling onto a long ,thick cock. What I wouldn't give to lick that drop away.

"Eyes up here, Princess."

I snap my gaze from his now hardening length and stare into the deepest brown eyes I've ever seen—so rich and dark I could get lost in them for days.

That's when I realized I was standing before Maximus Martin, the three-time NHL Player of the Year. He's a hockey legend. Instead of fangirling, I school my features and run through his stats in my head.

He's had a rough year, but I think I can get him and this team back on track with the right offense. The team was doing greatuntil two months ago when the former head coach and his two assistant coaches, all brothers, switched teams to coach for the Minnesota Norse to be closer to their aging parents.

Don, the acting head coach, doesn't know what he's doing, but I'm here to change that. First, I need to show them who's in charge.

"Impressive," I say, slowly lowering my gaze down his body, watching as his cock twitches to life before meeting his eyes. "Now, if only your stats were as impressive."

The smirk falls from his face, replaced by a look of disbelief.

If he thinks I'm going to roll over and let him or his teammates walk all over me, he's sadly mistaken. His entire attitude is rubbing me wrong.

Hmm, but I bet he could rub me right. How long has it been since I've had anyone rub me? A year? Two?

A memory of a night on the beach, then later in my hotel room in Barbados from two years ago, pops into my head, reminding me it's been two years since I felt a lover's touch on my body instead of my own.

Maximus certainly looks like he could do some damage with that monster between his legs. Unconsciously, I lick my lips, imagining the feeling of that heft in my mouth.

Would he press my head tight against his balls, cutting off my oxygen until I gave in and tapped on his thigh? Or would hetake his time entering deeply down my throat, then retreating, teasing me with his length?

A deep chuckle pulls me out of my lustful thoughts as realize my eyes have dropped back down his body to his cock again. Luckily, I'msaved from any further embarrassment as he reaches down, picks up his misplaced towel, straightens up, and places the corner of the towel to my lips. "You have a little bit of drool right there." He swipes the towel across mylips before leaving me to stare after him in the middle of the locker room, his muscular ass tempting me with every step he takes away from me.

I shift my gaze away from his retreating, naked, and extremely sexy backside, suddenly noticing the color of the lockers and the locker room walls. "Pink?"

Why would anyone paint everything in a men's locker room pink?

"That was Coach Hayden Ford's idea back in the day." I blink at the handsome, smiling face that popped up in front of me ,taking me off guard. "He took some psychology class in college that said pink is a relaxing color—very calm and soothing."

"If it's so relaxing, why would he paint his team's locker room a color that could sabotage their mood, ultimately causing them to lose?" I've heard rumors about Coach Ford—he was a cutthroat coach who didn't believe in taking it easy on his opponent. When he had them by the balls, he never let up. "I'm Kingston Cane, by the way." He holds out this hand. "But my friends call me King."I clap his hand with a firm shake, only to feel an odd sense of nervous energy at his touch.

The pink room is obviously not working on me.

Needing to regain my coach-player dynamic, I reply, "Nice to meet you, Kingston."

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