Page 14 of Grudge Puck
But then there was Camille. No matter how good at hockey I got, or how much more famous I became, or how much more money I had … none of that even mattered to her. In fact, it seemed to make her hate memore.
I just didn't get it.
You know what else I didn't get? Why the hell I thought she looked hot. Because I mean it, I can't stand her.
But it's true: she looked fuckin' great. Her Facebook pics didn't even do her justice—she was even hotter in person. I could tell she'd obviously been busting her ass all day at work, but she didn'tsweat so much as sheglowed. One look at her flushed, rosy cheeks? All I could hear, swimming around in the back of my head, was her orgasmic panting and moaning as I licked and slurped at her juicy pussy …
And those tits. Man. Rach had a nice pair. She had agreatpair, actually, and she had 'em stuffed into a flirty, retro mini-dress that hugged the tight curves of her body. An apron went over that dress; but the apron was so tiny, it looked like it was more for show.
Mini-dress and tiny apron—dangerous combo. I had to be careful not to get caught stealing a peek.
Can't believe I'm actually thinking about Rach's tits,I thought to myself.
God—was Vinny right? Would I actually grudge-fuck her if I had the chance?
“Beau,” Hunter said. “Beau. Beau!”
“Huh?”
Hunter pointed out the window. The hotel was on our right. “Snap out of it, dude. We're here. Get out.”
“Oh, yeah.”
I opened the door and we slid out.
“Your head's in the clouds today, huh?” Hunter asked. “What're you thinking about? Camille, isn't it?”
“You're right. I am thinking about Camille.”
Hunter looked excited for a second—until I broke his heart a second later.
“And I'm thinking Vinny's got the right idea. Ishouldtry to grudge-fuck her, shouldn't I?”
Hunter smacked his forehead.
“Can you imagine how hotthat would be? I bet she's a freak, too.”
Hunter groaned, but something else quickly caught his attention. “Uh oh. Look.” He pointed up ahead at an overweight bald guy waiting outside the hotel entrance.
I recognized him: Larry Graves, the beat reporter for the Scouts. He eyes lit up when he spotted us, and he pulled his digital audio recorder from his pocket.
“Guess he's looking for some pre-game quotes.” Hunter patted me on the back.
I nodded. “I'll give him what he wants.”
“Hunter, Beau!” Larry shouted as we approached. “What are your thoughts on playing New York tomorrow?”
“Hey Larry,” Hunter said politely as he brushed past the reporter. “Nothing from me today, sorry.”
I stopped for a chat. “Hey Larry.”
“Beau, what do you think of New York City?”
“I think it's awful.”
Larry's smile reminded me of a kid on Christmas morning. “Awful? What's awful?”
“This city. Every time I come back, the stench is even worse than I remember. Yeah, sure, I'm biased, because I'm used to breathing fresh mountain air. But this smell? Seriously, you guys gotta do something about it. It's unhealthy to live like this. You guys live like sewer rats.”
