Page 236 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

The way I smirk at the single word reminds me of years ago, when Mikayla was much shorter. Whenever she couldn’t reach a countertop to sit on, she’d give us one look, lift her arms, and say, “Up.” We had no choice but to oblige because it was so damn cute.

Without hesitation, my hands are on her waist, lifting her onto the counter.

Before I can back away, her arms hook around my neck, forcing me to stay pressed against the counter while she somehow manages to lift the material of her dress enough so her bare legs can secure my hips.

“You’re mine now,” she declares proudly before she’s mere inches from my face. “Now talk to me, Wolfgang.”

Talk to her…

I want to, but where do I even begin?

This week, I didn’t have my therapy session, so there was no ‘one hour’ dedicated to spilling out all my emotions. I don’t even share this stuff with Maddox, Damien, or Ace, which leaves all the thoughts, good and bad, to pile into my mind.

Tonight, in particular, just feels like I’ve finally reached the tip of the iceberg.

“What if there’s just too much to talk about?” I barely get the words out as I lower my head to view the hint of her tattoo between her breasts.

Our symbol.

The one stemmed from broken hearts, hockey sticks, and wanting to feel like badass royalty.

Aside from Damien, we didn’t really come from high-class families. Even if we did, those years of status went downhill until there was nothing left. It didn’t stop us from staying together. In fact, we got closer to knowing money didn’t define any of us, but how we dreamed we could just be princes and princesses where heartbreak never existed, and all we could focus on was hockey.

What was even funnier now was how we had money and were being treated like royalty with all this attention and sudden fame for being a part of Strattonville Vipers, yet my heart still felt broken.

That there was something missing.

My missing link…

“Wolfgang.”

The tenderness of lips pressing against mine shuts down all the thoughts begging to overflow in my clouded mine. The slow passion that ignites further chases them away, allowing me the moment to just focus on one thing.

My missing link is right here.

Our Heartbreaker Queen.

My Mishka.

“Talk. To. Me.” She says between kisses. I can’t help but moan and capture her mouth, needing to just taste her.Touch her.Just do anything but talk right now.

She doesn’t stop me when my hands land on her bare thighs, moving her dress even farther up while I snuggle against her body. My cock is already hard.

I’ve been hard the whole damn night.

“After I get a taste of you,” I end up grunting after releasing her swollen lips. I don’t hesitate to crouch down, my head between her legs, before she can get a word out.

The wave of heat that hits me, matched with the smell of her sweet wetness, makes me growl in impatience as I lick my bottom lip with anticipation.

“W-Wolfgang,” she pants, still catching her breath after our steamy kiss, but she’s moaning the next seconds because I’m moving her thong to the side so I can lay my mouth on her soaked cunt, ready to devour her in seconds.

Fuck.

She tastes so damn good, the hungry beast in me is desperate to taste more of her.

To work her up until she’s screaming my name.

That’s exactly what I do.

---