Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

3. Roman

3

ROMAN

“ N ice shot, Roman!” our assistant coach called from the sidelines, clapping his hands in that cupped formation that amplified the sound across the rink.

Hell yeah. Applause was my favorite sound—well, besides a woman’s moans of pleasure. I especially liked the way it rang out over the ice, and he was right—it had definitely been a nice shot. A damn good one, in fact. A hard slap of the stick and that puck was sailing into the net, right past Sawyer’s outstretched arms. He grumbled, tried to flip me off despite his huge gloves, but I knew the whole team’s consensus was that this was a good sign for our upcoming season. If I was scoring goals in practice, I’d get into the habit when we started playing for real too.

Goddamn, it was fun. I loved playing wing, scoring goals, taking out some aggression in an offensive role that helped us kick other teams’ asses. And today, I was really on my game.

Wes was playing like a beast today too, though he was a classic defenseman. Always more about taking care of his teammates than scoring, though he was no slouch at making goals either. Together, with Michael as our center and Sawyer in the goal, we were a fucking great team.

And sure, there were the other guys too. The whole Skatin’ Santas’ squad were looking tight and ready for the season ahead. But in addition to being my best friends, Mike, Sawyer, Wes, and I were the undisputed star players. I had no trouble admitting it. It felt fucking great to be a star.

“Don’t let your one killer shot go to your already massive head, Rome,” Michael joked as we skated to the edge of the ice at our first break. “Doesn’t mean you’re God’s gift to hockey.”

“You’re so right, Henny,” I teased him back, using the nickname for his last name that he hated—I’d come up with it originally, of course. “I’m a great player, obviously. But God’s gift? That’s reserved for all the sweet puck bunnies I take home after practice.” I shot him a wink that made him gag.

Sawyer and Wes came up behind us making similar gagging sounds, basically full-on fake retching, which made me cackle. My friends were dicks, but only because I pushed them to it first. It was a dynamic I’d grown to love.

All of us pulled off our helmets, shaking out our hair, which was surprisingly damp with sweat for how cold it had to be on the ice. A sign of us working our asses off at the game we loved. Of course, we teased Wes for his buzzcut—“Too bad you can’t shake yours out, bro, since all you’ve got is fuzz”—but there was affection in it. Wes had to know we only picked on him because he was a handsome son-of-a-bitch and, other than me, was the most sought-after player on the team with the ladies. Of course, he’d never use his powers to get laid well and often like I did.

“Did I tell you guys about the sweet redhead I had over the weekend?” I asked my three buddies as all our teammates grouped up in different clumps outside the rink, chugging Gatorade and stretching out their muscles during our downtime. “Man, she was a real firecracker. Real bendy too, since she teaches yoga or some shit. And you should have heard the screams she let out—practically shook the walls. Talk about an ego boost.”

“Your neighbors must hate you,” Sawyer grumbled while he pulled off one of his skates to apply tape to his ankle for extra support.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Did you get this one’s name, at least?” Wes asked me pointedly. I smirked and shrugged.

“Wasn’t a lot of time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Uh, yeah. We all know what you mean. Sicko,” Michael shot back with some genuine disapproval in his voice. He always got like this, all creased brow and holier-than-thou because he was in a long-term relationship and had a twin sister. As if that made him some great feminist compared to the rest of us—hell, I had a few sisters too.

“Nothing sick about giving a woman what she wants and getting mine in return,” I countered. “You’re jealous because your girl isn’t as freaky now that you’re all settled and in love, or what?”

“Watch it,” Wes warned me, his voice low. Michael didn’t have much of a temper, though, so he waved off the attempt at reining me in.

“It’s fine, Wes. We’ve all got our flaws. Rome’s just happens to be that he sees women as objects.”

“Hey, I love women,” I rebuked him. “I just also love freedom, and fucking without the expectation of a ring and babies someday. Glad you’re that guy, but commitment’s never really been my style.”

“You’ve been with the Santas for longer than all of your past relationships combined,” Wes pointed out, and Sawyer snorted.

“Hey, that’s hockey. Totally different,” I told them, which had them all exchanging looks and disbelieving smiles at my expense. I wasn’t bothered. I knew my casual style worked for me, and none of my past partners had any complaints.

Well, almost none.

“Jett!” a stern voice barked from across the way, making me turn my head. I spotted one of the suits who worked for the team, Jerry Fenton, standing at the threshold of a hallway that led back into the boring areas of the ice center. Offices and shit where people with boring regular jobs worked day-to-day. I could never remember what Jerry’s real title was, since he wasn’t our team manager, but he was a higher-up in some capacity. My job was to score goals, not keep track of details.

“Parker’s office,” Fenton continued, his tone practically a bark. That was our team manager, Ray Parker. “Five minutes.”

“Ooo, someone’s in trouble,” a teammate sang in a low voice, and the rest of the team snickered, eyeing me with curiosity. I shook it off, throwing up a middle finger at all of those idiots as I started to unlace my skates and get ready for whatever dumb meeting I was getting dragged into now.

When I went into Ray’s office, he and Jerry were both there, as well as the older woman who I was pretty sure ran HR. That made me a little nervous, but I shrugged it off by shooting her a charming smile and a polite, “Hello, Lulu. Lovely seeing you today.”

She smiled at me, but it was a little strained. “You too, Roman. Would you mind taking a seat?”

I did, noticing the serious energy that permeated the air in the room. Jerry, Ray, and Lulu were all looking at me, and no-nonsense Ray wasted no time in getting straight into it.

“Roman, we’ve called you in here to talk about your recent behavior on and off the ice.”

“Troublemaking,” Jerry jumped in to elaborate, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared me down. The stuffy little nerd never liked me, and I felt like he was enjoying watching me get reprimanded a little too much. “You’ve been getting in fights even during friendlies, and it’s no secret to anyone how you comport yourself with women around town.”

I resisted the urge to snort. Poor bastard was probably just jealous that I got way more pussy than he ever would.

“It doesn’t really suit the team’s family-friendly image,” Ray said with more of a disappointed dad tone. The old man was always kind, and I appreciated that he kept that up even as he was scolding me like I was a kid in trouble with the school principal. “We’re the Skatin’ Santas, Roman. Not the…the…”

“Sexy Santas?” Lulu suggested. God, what a woman. She giggled like a schoolgirl when I winked at her.

“I can think of a more accurate S-word,” Jerry grumbled, and Ray shot him a disapproving look that made him pull back, a little sheepish. I let myself smile in satisfaction, loving to see him knocked off his high horse. But I only smiled a little, not showing my teeth. This was a professional setting, so I couldn’t be too much of a little shit. These people signed my paychecks.

“Pipe down, Jerry,” Ray fired over his shoulder. But then he turned his serious gaze on me, and I almost wanted to gulp cartoon-style. “But really, Roman. It’s a real problem. You remember Marissa, our marketing and PR director?”

Woof, how could I forget? She was sexy as hell, with deep golden skin, a flirty short haircut, thick thighs, and overflowing curves to die for. We’d hooked up a few times before she tried to get me to commit to her. I was upfront about what I was looking for from the jump, of course, but she caught feelings anyway—or at least got mesmerized by my dick. She hadn’t taken it well when I had to call things off with her, but it was for the best. If she wanted long term, I wasn’t her guy.

“Yes, sir,” I answered, keeping my tone neutral.

“Well, she cited her relationship with you as one of the reasons she had to leave us. So now we’re down a very important member of the team because of your shenanigans, young man.”

I almost wanted to laugh. There was a first time for everything—my sexual prowess had never caused someone to resign before. Well, besides the one nun I’d fucked into leaving the sisterhood, but that was less about me than about her newly discovered love of getting railed.

“Not sure what that has to do with me. She knew what she was signing up for,” I said breezily.

“This is serious, son,” Ray almost snapped. He was usually such a good-natured, calm old fella that his sudden sternness shocked me into sitting up a little straighter. I could feel the vibe shift in the room, the gravity of the conversation settling in. I resisted the urge to flip off Jerry when he smiled smugly about it. Ray continued, “If you’re not able to sufficiently clean up your act, I’m not sure I can guarantee your future with this team.”

Well, fuck. Somehow, I hadn’t even considered that me getting kicked off the team could be a possibility, no matter what shenanigans I got into. While Michael was the fan-favorite player, no one would claim I wasn’t an invaluable part of our mostly winning record the past few years, and I had my own following in Mistletoe. Maybe my ego was part of the disbelief too. I sat up straighter in my chair.

“We suggest you take a page out of Mr. Henning’s book and try to embrace a more wholesome, family-friendly image,” Jerry piped up with his annoying voice and punchable face. Yeah, like I wanted to be anything like that stick in the mud. Mike was my friend, and I liked him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t kind of a square. Besides, there was no hope of me even faking a resemblance to that boy scout. My tattoos and tongue ring would disqualify me immediately.

The rest of the meeting was a blur after that point. I left mid-sentence while they were trying to suggest dumb ideas to clean up my act. Since practice was over at this point, I headed away from the rink and toward the entrance of the ice center, on my way out to my car. But when I got to the building lobby, I spotted a truly delicious sight, and my plans changed.

There was a woman walking into the ice center with a confident stride, and goddamn, she was gorgeous. Tall and elegantly curvy, with dark hair that fell in well-done waves around an angular face—offset, though, by some truly sinful lips. Full and wickedly curved and bitable. Immediately, I could picture that perfect pout parted to take my cock inside it. The skintight jeans she wore, which showed off mile-long legs, certainly didn’t stop the dirty thoughts from forming.

New plan. I made a beeline toward the woman, turning my signature charm up to eleven. I ruffled my hair in the front so it’d look expertly tousled—dozens of women had told me they loved that.

“Hey there, gorgeous. Need help finding where you’re going?” I asked, swooping in to fall into step beside her. Those long legs were really booking it, and her stride didn’t falter.

“No thanks,” she said, though it sounded more like No, and fuck you very much for asking.

I almost wanted to laugh in delight. Hard to get was my favorite flavor. I grinned crookedly and positioned myself against the wall, a well-practiced leaning pose that also served to block her path now that we were in a less open area of the building. The beautiful brunette frowned at me, well-manicured brows lowering over eyes the color of a stormy sea. Fucking flawless.

“Excuse me,” she gritted out. “I have an appointment.”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware we had a date scheduled, but I’m willing to drop everything and take you out. I can promise I’ll make it worth your time.” To get my point across that I wanted to peel off those tight jeans with my teeth, I flashed her a cheeky grin, throwing a little flash of my tongue ring in with it, since I knew that was always a panty dropper. Sure enough, despite her stone-faced expression and rigid spine, I saw her eyes dart down to the flash of silver. And fuck yeah, there was a bit of a flush to her cheeks, a slight strain in her next few breaths.

Jackpot.

“Not with you, asshat,” she finally let out, her voice a little raspier than before. Sexy as hell. “Out of my way.”

It might make me a sick bastard, but her insulting me, trying to deter me even as she clearly wanted to feel my tongue piercing on her pussy, only got me revved up. I could feel my cock twitch in anticipation of how fun and challenging she must be in the sack. How I’d be sure to find out sooner or later, since I hardly ever struck out with women. Most dudes these days had lost the art of seduction, but not me, and women jumped at the chance to fuck me about it.

“Come on, baby,” I half purred, leaning in toward this gorgeous woman’s ear. I smelled a warm, sultry perfume on her neck, and goddamn, I wanted to lick her. “I guarantee you’d have more fun with me than whatever appointment you’re going to.”

I heard her breath catch, knew that I had her hooked, when none other than the Skatin’ Santas’ golden boy himself killed the vibe.

“Rach, you’re here!” Michael’s chipper voice broke into the moment. I leaned back away from the brunette as she turned toward him for a hug. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah,” she answered him, but her eyes darted back to me, and then Michael registered my presence. His brow creased.

“Hey, Roman. Have you met my sister, Rachel?”

Fuck. Of course she was his sister. Regrettably, I even saw the resemblance between them now that I was looking for it, though it did very little to reduce my desire to make her come so hard she forgot she was a Henning. Michael’s knowing gaze—a similar blue-gray color to Rachel’s—seemed to bore into me. Like he was registering how close I’d been to his sister when he walked up and he wasn’t happy about it.

Yeah, that was typical. None of my friends really rooted for my efforts to fuck every eligible woman in the tristate area, but Michael liked my lifestyle the least. The way he was watching me warily, almost angry despite the nothing he’d seen, it was like he’d walked in on me finger-banging his twin sister. Distrust and disapproval—and it pissed me off.

I was already still pissed after my stupid meeting about my image. And together, these annoyances stoked a fire that had me plotting and scheming more than I ever had. After the stilted introduction Michael gave to me and Rachel, the half-assed pleasantries, the two of them were headed off to have lunch together, leaving me with an evil plan forming in my brain.

Well, at least one of my heads.

Screw trying to be a fucking goody-two-shoes like Michael Henning, and absolutely fuck his judgemental ass. If I wanted to sleep with his sister, I damn well could—she was a big girl with strong boss bitch energy, and if she wanted me in the way I thought she did, there was no way she’d let something as silly as her brother’s disapproval stop her from getting hers.

She’d be a challenge to seduce, that was for sure. And I should probably take the prospect of losing my literal job more seriously, focus on more effectively hiding my habits if I had no intention of changing them. But watching Rachel Henning’s hips sway as she left, all I could think was, Challenge accepted.