Page 36 of One Last Puck

“It’s so fucking good! Fuck!” She shook.

“Wet yo’ dick,” I commanded, lifting her slightly so she could spray her juices all over me.

When she was done, I slid her back down and pumped a few more strokes in her until I coated her insides.

“You have made me the happiest man in the world, Lafayette Porter.”

I slid her off me and pulled her into my chest.

“Don’t hurt me, Jax,” Faye whispered.

“Never,” I whispered back. “Now, let’s get out of here. I need to fuck you in my bed several times before your flight leaves.”

“Okay.”

Six MonthsLater

“Come on! Come on!” I whispered under my breath as my eyes bounced between the clock and the ice.

It was game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals, and I couldn’t believe I was standing on the sidelines, reporting for GZN Sports.

The last six months had been a whirlwind. My podcast had taken off, and I was offered a thirty-minute segment on GZN. My relationship with Jax was damn near perfect. He had quickly become my everything. He was my rock, my biggest cheerleader, and the love of my life. The more time we spent together, the more whole I had become. Jax once told me I was empty, and maybe back then, with all the grief I’d suffered, Iwas. I didn’t understand what he meant then, but now, after being loved by him, I get it. Being in love again has filled all the empty spaces within me. I was truly living, and it was surreal that any of this was my life.

“Let’s go, Jax!” The crowd chanted, filling the air around me. My heart raced as the clock ticked down. There was just five seconds left. The Penguins were up by one, and they had to hold on for a few more seconds to win the game.

Everyone gasped as a player from the opposing team took a shot. My breath caught in my throat as Jax slid in front of the puck, making the biggest block of his career. The crowd went wild as the whistle blew, and the horn sounded. The game was over!

“Yes! Yes! They did it! They did it!” I cheered, unable to control my excitement.

I jumped up and down, not giving a damn about looking professional. My man had just won the Stanley Cup. Tears fell from my eyes as I watched him line up and shake the opposing team’s hand.

“Lafayette!” the cameraman called, reminding me I was at work.

“I need to get to the press room, huh?”

I stood from my seat and rushed down the stairs toward the press area. I couldn’t help but smile as I spotted Jax. He had a million-dollar grin on his face and his team surrounding him in celebration, but I needed to get in there.

“Excuse me! Pardon me!”

I pushed through the crowd of players, making my way into the middle of the huddle. When he saw me, he immediately moved to me.

“I did it, Faye Baby!”

“Jax! Congratulations, baby!”

He wrapped me in his arms, picking me up off the ground and spinning me around.

“I gotta get the interview,” I reminded him.

“My bad.”

He put me down on the ground, and I took a deep breath, composing myself as I hopped into journalist mode.

“I’m here with Jaxton Saint, who just made a game winning block. What an incredible way to win your first Stanley Cup! How does it feel?” I asked as the camera rolled.

“It’s amazing! This is what I’ve dreamed of since I first took the ice as a kid.”

“And you played such a critical role in that last defensive play. Take us through that moment. What was going through your mind?”

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