Page 57 of The Stud

“I can do both.”

“You can barely do one.”

Light chuckles swing back and forth but unfortunately get interrupted by a loud, high pitched, feminine voice. “Froskkkky!!!!” The two of us cut our gazes to the left where a large tittied brunette is bouncing up and down like a Pomeranian. “OhmygoodFroskkkkyyyy!” An object suddenly gets propelled through the air, landing lifelessly near his feet. “For luck!”

Disgust can’t be kept out of my voice, “Are those her panties?”

“Yes,” an irrefutable astonished sigh escapes, “those are indeed her panties.”

“Hope they’re clean,” is muttered as I continue to walk.

“I appreciate the thought!” He calls out to her on a point of the object. “Thank you!” Hurrying to remain at my side precedes him mumbling, “That’s a new one.”

“Can the same be said for that thong?”

Additional laughter escapes during our ascension of the bus steps; however, the instant the team sees their final player board, they collectively “ra” smothering out the sound.

I prepare to drop down in the seat beside Khurana when Tanner turns to face me, mischievous smile – I hate myself for knowing so damn well – plastered plain as day on his face.

He’s about to cause trouble.

And it’s gonna be centered around me.

Joy.

“How about you sit in the back with me, Hoss?”

“That sounds like the opposite of what Rosa fought for.”

Small sniggers over my chirp seep free from the boys but don’t deter the man with the silkiest mitts on board. “You need my pregame ritchy, yes?” He slowly continues to back up. “You cannot get it, if you are not back here with me to witness it.”

“Someone please reassure me he doesn’t play a little one-man hockey in the back of the bus,” I call out to the boys who collectively laugh louder. “Coach?”

“Snowman keeps his mitts off his carrot,” Blanc playfully promises. “But if he doesn’t? You have my full permission to tape them to the seat to assure that he does.”

“You have my full permission to do that as well,” Tanner echoes with an eyebrow waggle. “I would never say no to a little pregamebondage.”

Gagging is mindlessly done.

“My apologies. I meant bonding.”

“You didn’t.”

“Wahl,” Cap grunts his interruption, “move to the back to provide a bit of D for Hoss.”

“I swear I’ve got all the D she needs.” The troublemaker I loathe myself for liking pats the seat next to him. “All she has to do is ask for it.”

“Does he actually needallof his teeth to play?” I teasingly goad Cap who is unhappily glowering.

“Looferz doesn’t, aye,” one of the Goonie Tunes points out while Wahl and I both relocate to Tanner.

Once I’m settled in the seat beside him – with Wahl in the one directly in front of him – I slide out my work phone to begin recording.

“Spill,” flies out of me in an impatient fashion. “What is your pre-game ritch? Music? Movies? Moonpies?”

“Man, I love a good Moonpie,” Wahl loudly murmurs from his seat. “Or those weird little Canadian pie things Becks used to eat pre-game.”

“Butter tarts,” Tanner states prior to pulling out a small booklet from his pocket. “And my pre-game ritch is. Crossword. Puzzles.”

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