Page 39 of Don't Puck Him

What a moment ago had been disgusting and frightening with Cash is uplifting and fulfilling with Hunter. Every atom of my being responds, stands to attention, and obeys.

After long, slow, intoxicating minutes, Hunter brings his lips to my ear.

“Don’t worry, Wren, You’re safe and whole. I’ve got you back. I’ll never let you go again.”

I sigh. A satiated sigh.

Break free? What ‘break free’? I am home where I belong.

20

HUNTER

It’s hockey practice in an hour. I have to get my game face on.

I get my gear together and hit the road.

All the way over to the arena, I’m not thinking about practice. I’m thinking about Wren.

After the other night at Boyd’s Tiki party, my gut tells me not to leave Wren alone for a minute. Her care and safety are up to me. But it’s early days. I know she has to process her new life as being mine. I have to give her the space to do that.

“Yes, but how do I do that and keep control?” I say to myself, staring out the windshield at the bustling traffic but in my mind’s eye, only seeing Wren.

“It’s clear she needs me to look out for her.” I check my shoulder to change lanes. “It’s my job, and I want to do it. To cherish her, keep her close, and train and protect her as my own. It’s obvious she wants that, too, or she wouldn’t have called me to rescue her, frightened as she was at the party.”

I wheel into the arena parking lot and swerve into a slot. I look at the car’s clock. I’m early. I have time to sit and think. I stare out blankly at my teammates ambling into the building.

She can’t be out on her own. She’s too naïve. She’s too vulnerable. She was shaking in my arms last night. There’s no doubt she needs me to watch over her day and night.

I smile, remembering back to how I reclaimed her body for my own. I won’t voice it, but I love Wren being helpless without me. It’s the best feeling in the world. I hold her. I do what I need to her. I swallow her up. Every breath she breathes is mine.

Arousal ignites. I shake it off, grab my gear, and head on in.

I lace up and hit the ice. I’m skating, doing the drills. My body is working, but my mind is elsewhere. It’s with Wren.

Where is she right now? What will she be doing tonight? Will she end up in trouble again? Will some guy get his paws on her?The thought enrages me.

One of my guys accidentally bumps into me. “Brad, fuck off, man! Learn how to skate.”

Brad raises his gloved hands. “Whoa, pal. Just sayin’ hi. Take a chill pill.” Brad shakes his head and shakes away.

I set up some more three-man passes. Guys lose the puck.

“What the flying fuck, dudes? Can you get with the program and keep a damn puck!”

Cash skates up to me. “Hunter, man, chill out. What’s eating your ass?”

“You fuck off, too. I’ve got no time for your moaning.”

I tear off to the end of the rink and teach these players how to get the puck and pass it to the shooter at the net. I hear myself yelling, barking out orders, getting worked up over minor mistakes. It’s not like me. I know. I put the entire team on edge.

We start a practice game. I body-check a team mate who doesn’t even have the puck.

“What the fuck, Hunter? Back the hell off!” Jeff yells.

“No. You back off!”

“What are you doing, man? The puck is over with Glenn.”

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