Room One Hundred and Thirteen (Club Sin: Seattle Session 2)

Puck Like a Girl - from the Playing the Puck Series

“You know this is crazy, right?”

“It’s not crazy. It’s strategic. How else am I going to get intel on the competition? Now come on, we didn’t squeeze into these tight dresses and wax everything only to stand outside.” I tug on Britt’s arm, pulling her closer to the sidewalk leading to the college house party.

Her steps falter the closer we get to the house. “Are you seriously going through with the hockey tryouts tomorrow?”

Britt may be my oldest and dearest friend, but she will never understand my desperate need to prove myself in the world of hockey. Having grown up with a father who is known around the world as the GOAT of modern-day hockey, with five Stanley Cup championships under his belt, and three brothers who currently rule that same hockey world, I need this.

As a female in a male-dominated sport, I’m relegated to the women’s league, where the competition is good but not at the same level of skill and development I’m used to from my father and brothers training me for all these years.

I transferred to State College so I could anonymously try out and win one of the two open spots on this year’s men’s hockey team tomorrow. My ultimate goal is to finally prove to the doubters that I’m just as good as my famous father and brothers.

“I still don’t think we should just crash the Hockey House party.” Britt stops walking completely and blinks up at the massive house before us.

My eyes wander across the front lawn, and land on a guy walking through the grass. His shoulders are hunched over, and his head is down. When he senses me looking at him, his head snaps up with a fierce frown.

I’d recognize that ruggedly handsome face anywhere. It’s Coulter Collins, one of the three senior co-captains of the men’s hockey team. He’s not my usual type with his long, shaggy hair and beard. Plus, I’ve always stayed away from dating hockey players. But something about how he stares at me makes my heart flutter.

He breaks eye contact first and ducks behind the house, heading for the backyard. I let out a breath, feeling stripped bare by his intense gaze.

“Did you hear what I said, Teagan?”

I drag my gaze away from where he was standing.

“Yes, Britt. You said you can’t wait for your first college party.” I can’t help but tease.

The horrified look on her face is exactly what I needed to get my mind off the handsome hockey player.

“You know that’s not what I said.” She huffs. “I said, what if someone recognizes you?”

The thought had crossed my mind. Since I grew up in a famous hockey family, my face has been plastered all over the world.

“No one is going to recognize me. These guys are all puck heads. All hockey, all the time, with the occasional puck bunny thrown in.”

“You seem to be forgetting the poster every wannabe professional hockey player has on their bedroom wall.”

I cringe, recalling the exact poster she’s talking about. The photo was taken right after my father won his first Stanley Cup. In it, he hoists the trophy in the air, and I’m sitting on his shoulders and leaning forward to kiss the Cup with one eye trained on the camera.

I was only five years old when the photo was taken, but I’ve been told I’m easily recognizable by the rare violet eye coloring I inherited from my father. All my brothers and I share the trait. That’s why I have in my brown-colored contacts tonight.

“Come on. You need to live a little and stop hiding behind your romance novels.”

Britt grunts at me, and I loop my arm through hers, dragging her up the steps to the front door.

“Come on up, ladies,” Fin Baxter, one of the other senior co-captains of the hockey team, calls from the house’s front door. A wide, boyish grin breaks out across his face.

Where Coulter is the shy, quiet type, Fin is the loud, confident player of the team. Rumor has it he has a different puck bunny in his bed every night. Another reason I don’t date hockey players is that there are way too many puck bunnies.

“I can’t let you in without paying the cover charge.” His hand braces against the doorframe, blocking our entrance as his eyes twinkle with mischief.

“How much?” I ask, opening my purse to retrieve the cash I keep for emergencies.

His hand flies to his chest. A mock indignation crosses his handsome face. “I’m shocked you would think I want money from you.”

I roll my eyes at his over-the-top theatrics. “Then what exactly do you want?” I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot.

“A boon.”

I glance at Britt, and she shrugs.

“Fine,” I say, already regretting my hasty agreement.

“How about a kiss on the cheek from you, fair lady.” He reaches his hand out to Britt, causing a pink blush to creep up her chest and neck onto her cheeks.

“O-Okay,” she stutters.

Poor Britt, she’s not used to males flirting with her. She’s only dated one guy, and they broke up last year.

Fin’s hands grip her waist to help steady her as she stands on her tiptoes. She kisses his cheek with a quick peck.

Once her feet are safely planted on the hardwood of the deck, he releases her and turns to me.

“That was the appetizer. Now for the main course.”

I roll my eyes again and lean forward to kiss his cheek, but he surprises me by turning away and shaking his head.

“No, your boon is your panties.”

I grew up in a male-dominated world, nothing shocks me. I need to wipe that smirk off his face though.

“Sorry, I would, but I’m not wearing any.”

At his shocked expression, I brush past him, Britt close on my heels. He recovers quickly and yells after us.

“I will definitely be seeing you later.”

Our eyes meet again, and he raises his eyebrows up and down flirtatiously.

He’s such a player, but my heart races anyway over his vow and his panty-melting gaze because, of course, I’m wearing panties.

“Come on, Britt, let’s get something to drink.”

We walk deeper into the house, trying to avoid the bodies rubbing and grinding on each other to the loud music.

“Over there.” I point to a bowl of punch on a table in the corner.

I fill two red cups and hand one to Britt. I take a drink from mine just as a guy stumbles into us, causing my plastic cup to fly out of my hand. Part of the red punch lands on my white dress, and the other part lands on the shirt of a sexy guy walking by.

His irritated gaze snaps to mine.

“Watch where you’re going, puck bunny,” he growls, pushing his way past us with a scowl.

I groan inwardly, realizing I’ve just pissed off the third and final co-captain of the hockey team, Royal Reynolds, the resident bad boy of the group. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. He never looks happy, not even in any of the online pictures of the team I’ve been studying.

I stare after his retreating back, my pulse pounding in my ears. How can my heart possibly race for three different guys? Three guys who hold my hockey fate in their hands.

I shake off my thoughts. No, it must be my nerves for tryouts tomorrow that are making my heart race.

“You need to get that cleaned up before the stain sets in.” Britt dabs at the rapidly spreading liquid on my dress with a tissue she pulled from her purse.

“You’re right. I’ll be right back.”

Britt’s eyes widen, but she nods her head anyway and sits in one of the open chairs by the fireplace.

I follow a group of girls down the hall to what I hope is the bathroom, but there’s a long line of people waiting to use it, and the thought of having to wait in such a long line doesn’t sound that appealing. With my mind made up, I head upstairs to look for one.

At the top of the staircase, I search for the bathroom, jiggling each door handle until one finally opens.

But once inside, I realize it’s not a bathroom, and I’m not alone.

“Sorry,” I say to the guy lying on the bed.

His hand stills over his huge cock.

Shit, I just walked in on some guy masturbating. And not just any guy, it’s Coulter. And instead of being grossed out, my nipples pebble into hard points, and my panties dampen.

My gaze snaps to his eyes, and I’m mesmerized by the raw look of desire staring back at me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.

Before I know what I’m saying, I utter, “Don’t stop.”

I shut the door behind me and move closer to the bed. So close I can see every vein in his thick cock. The pre-cum leaking from the tip has me licking my lips, imagining his salty taste.

He hesitates for a second before he continues to stroke himself. His hand runs up and down his hard length. His cock looks to be about nine inches long and oh-so thick. I’ve seen my fair share of cocks, but I’m certainly no expert.

I squeeze my thighs together, the strong pulse of my clit making my panties wet. The worry of the punch stain setting in my favorite dress is long forgotten.

His breathing speeds up, but his eyes never leave my face. The rhythmic sound of skin on skin, as he thrust into his hand is almost hypnotic, making me step forward, needing to be closer to him.

His cock pulses in his hand as he throws back his head, and his cum splashes all over his muscled stomach and chest. The urge to run my fingers through his cum for a taste has me stepping closer to the bed until I look up at the poster on his wall.

Fuck. Of course, he would have that on his wall.

I stumble out of the room before he can recognize me as the girl on the poster.

“Wait!” he calls out, jumping out of the bed as I slam the door in my haste to leave his room.

What was I thinking, having him masturbate in front of me? Sure, it was so fucking hot, but now what? What do I say to him at tryouts tomorrow? I really liked watching you jack off in your room last night. Can we do it again?

I run through the hallway and down the stairs. I push through the crowd until I reach Britt, who is still in the same place I left her.

“Come on, Britt, let’s get out of here.” I grab Britt’s arm, ushering her out of the house. Thankfully, Fin is nowhere near the front door to watch us scurry away.

“Did you see everything you came here to see?” Her question is innocent enough, but I stumble at her words.

I regain my balance. “More than enough,” I mumble, pulling her along the sidewalk. I don’t dare to turn around to see if we are being followed.

The thought of not just one but all three of them catching me races through my mind. The tiny voice in the back of my head that is supposed to help me make responsible decisions answers with a resounding Yes! Please catch me!

I tug tighter on Britt’s arm, pulling her along the sidewalk and trying to put as much distance as I can between us and three of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen. I need to vanquish them from my thoughts so I can concentrate on tryouts tomorrow.

Good luck with that. The tiny voice in my head taunts me.