Page 13 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“Please.” It’s all I can say and seems to be enough to make her sigh.

Her hand slips from my grasp as she turns away. I’m ready to have the door slammed in my face, but I watch her walk forward. My eyes dip to her ass immediately, and God Almighty, this woman’s ass is fucking perfect.

I’d let her sit on me so fucking fas—

“I don’t have all evening, Winchester,” she calls out to me, and I’ll be damned. Looking over her shoulder, she’s caught me checking her booty out and having all the dirty fantasies in my fucked-up head.

“Get in, close the door, and take your fancy Air whatever’s off,” she orders and glances away. “And don’t worry. Our walls were insulated with soundproof layers so none of your important business shit will be heard by the neighbors. Includes the attic.”

The attic.

Where her bedroom is.

The place I’ve imagined fucking her senseless and listening to her moans bounce and echo until the whole damn neighborhood heard her screaming my name.

The place I’ve yet to venture into.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The possibility of getting a chance sends thrilling shockwaves through me. The thrill of a challenge drives me fucking mad.

And the woman who can make my cock go hard.

When I’m out of my thoughts, she’s long gone, leaving me standing there at the doorway like a fucking fool.

“My girl hasn’t changed,” I mutter to myself as I lick my lips, which feel far too dry.

These lips are desperate to be pressed against my feisty girl. I have no choice but to acknowledge she has become an independent woman who can give this rising star hockey player a boner before dinner time.

If I don’t clean up my act and be the good boy everyone thinks I am, I’m going to lose her all over again. My looks help me continue the golden boy legacy but looks never worked on my girl. She was way past that shit.

That’s what made her harder to get.

It wouldn’t stop me, though.

She’s mine. I just have to win her back.

Celebrate And Regret Later

~MIKAYLA~

“Sweet baby, Jesus! No one on this planet and beyond can tell me that man wasn’t looking at you like a scrumptious dessert begging to be devoured.”

The way I take my shot down is like I’m desperate to get drunk. At this point, getting wasted isn’t enough to ignore the lingering gaze still on me from the corner of this packed bar. I’ve done everything not to look in that direction, yet the man persists in looking our way while I try to celebrate my father’s announcement.

After years of applying, Father finally got a coaching job, and not just any coaching job. A newly made, full-time position for one of the new hockey teams being formed here in Strattonville.

There may be a lot of flaws living in a small town, where everyone knew everyone, but I felt like this position was thanks to one of the higher-ups who’ve watched my father firsthand apply again and again for years across the board.

If anyone deserved to get this position and lead a team of hockey stars to the NHL championships, it’s my dad. I’m sure only a few people knew of his time as the Head Coach of the Toronto Maple Leafs. He was at the peak of his career after they won the Stanley Cup when he got the call that changed our lives.

Mom is in the hospital.

You don’t realize how replaceable you are until you go from being the coach everyone recognized on the streets to a nobody. It’s the power of social media these days.

One day you’re trending.

The next, you no longer exist.

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