Page 39 of My Perfect Puck

It’s mayhem. Complete and utter chaos. From the top of the stands to the team on the ice.

I’m having the time of my life and when the final buzzer ends the game, I can’t believe it’s over already. I look up at the Megatron with a smile beaming from ear to ear.

8-0.

Yes, that’s eight to zero.

“Not bad for a bunch of rejects!” I grunt, scruffing my teammates as we gather in a tight huddle in the middle of the ice. “You fucking bunch of assholes! What a win! WHAT. A. WIN!”

We break the huddle and smash chests, fists and heads together. It’s a sea of red and we force our way past the broken and beaten bodies of the opposition. I lead the boys off the ice, ignoring the bickering and snide comments from some of the coaches from just outside the visitors’ locker room door.

“Bunch of cheats… That’s all you are!” A pissed off looking man yells out, his face as red as my jersey.

I brush it off, but Braydon Bennett doesn’t have the composure or experience like the rest of us. He’s rushing across with a hard look on his face and I know this isn’t going to end well. I stop in the middle of the concourse and watch as Braydon scruffs the man by the shirt and starts pounding into him.

“Oh… Fuck…” I groan, rolling my eyes. “Here we go.”

The boys behind me go to rush over, but Braydon’s fighting off the three guys piling on top of him. I hold my arm out and tell the team to get inside the locker room.

Of course, they ignore me.

Within seconds, there’s a brawl breaking out in the corridor of Falcon Central Arena.

“Oh… Come on, guys…” I say, boredom gripping my tone.

It’s a special feeling to have a team behind you on the ice. But to be a team on the ice, you have to be a team off the ice. They’ve got my back at all times, so I sure as hell have theirs.

“Here goes nothing…”

I race across and jump in the middle of the brawl, catching a fistful of the nearest blue shirt. I start pounding his stomach with my fist, winding him instantly. There’s a man snapping pictures of the fight, flashes lighting up the twenty or so grown men fighting for no reason at all.

My teeth are clenched hard, and I usually save my best hits for the ice, but I lay a thick whack on the prick who yanks my shoulder, trying to pull me off his teammate with a hard tug. My momentum spins me around and a haymaker of a punch connects with his face, crunching the bones in my hand along with his bloodied jaw.

I look down at him and shrug as he holds his face. My hand aches as a chuckle leaves my chest. He asked for it.

“That’s enough, come on! Come on!”

There are more flashing cameras. Bodies falls to the floor, and I deal another hit to someone behind me. A group of media personalities are watching on, the live stream still rolling and airing the scene out across the country no doubt. The impressive, dominant victory on the ice isn’t even going to get a mention now.

Nope. The bad boys of the league are at it again. Brawling in the dark alleyways of the stadium.

I guide the guys back in the locker room, holding my face and the door, shuffling the guys inside. After the last of them races through the door, I let it slam shut.

I slump down on the bench seat and look out across the room. It’s like a fucking military camp. Wounded heroes are nursing their injuries back to health. There’s red everywhere, not just our jersey’s anymore, though. Blood is pissing out of Carter’s nose. Gabriel is getting bandaged up. Everywhere you look, cuts and bruises from skates on the ice and fists off the ice are being mended.

Our coach is screaming his lungs out, after looking so proud on the ice, he’s now red in the face, shaking with every word he yells.

But the boys don’t care. And I can’t stop smiling.

Eventually, everything dies down and we’re all enjoying the moment. A few fans are permitted entry into the room and one in particular catches my eye.

“Holy shit…” I say, my breath catching in my throat.

A stunning blonde is leaning against the wall, her pouty lips looking deliciously pink and soft. She’s wearing a tightly fitted denim jacket that makes her busty chest pop. I feel my cock twitch as my eyes dance over her curvy body. She’s all hips, ass and tits. But not in the usual manner. No, she’s a proper woman. With lumps and bumps. Just how I like them.

Ryder Smith is sitting beside me, unfurling the tape wrapped around his wrists when he says, “What’s up, man?”

He follows my gaze and sees the entourage that’s just entered the locker room. I nudge him with my elbow, unable to remove my stare from the pretty blonde who’s just covered a cute giggle that lights up my entire world with her hand.

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