The Pucking Wrong Number: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 1)

This was it. It felt a bit like my life was counting down as the game clock showed one minute left…the last seconds of the most important game of my life ticking down mercilessly.

It was Game 7 of the Finals.

And we were about to lose to fucking Nashville.

We were tied, but the momentum was on their side. Every shot we took was blocked, like they had been for the entire game. Bender was slowly bleeding out from all the shots he was having to stop.

The pressure I felt was like nothing I’d experienced before. The weight of the entire season rested on my shoulders like a boulder, threatening to crush me at any second. I could see it in my teammates’ eyes…they thought we were done.

I lived for this shit, and even I was doubting.

Needing some fucking motivation…some hope, I turned my gaze to a few rows behind our bench, where Monroe’s seat was. The crowd was roaring around me, and every second felt like an eternity. Finally, I saw her, and my eyes locked onto her perfect face.

Her eyes were fierce, and she was standing along with the rest of the crowd, her posture determined, like she could will us to win. She saw me looking and she lifted up her hands, making the fucking heart sign that I’d done every time I scored.

It was the first time she’d done it back, even though I made her tell me she loved me at least fifty times a day, being the needy bastard that I was.

My heart swelled in my chest. It was like a bolt of lightning went through me, igniting a fire in my gut.

Suddenly, the game didn’t seem unwinnable.

I could do anything, be anything…for her.

She deserved a winner.

So she was going to get one.

I turned my attention back to the ice, feeling renewed.

A few seconds later, Ari sent the puck flying towards me, giving me one last chance. My heart was pounding in my chest, my palms slick with sweat as I skated towards the net. The seconds felt like an eternity as I took the shot, the sound of my stick hitting the puck echoing through the arena.

I held my breath as the puck flew towards the net, willing it to go in. And then, as if in slow motion, it hit the back of the net with a resounding thud. The buzzer sounded a half a second later, and the crowd erupted in a deafening roar.

I fell to my knees in disbelief as my teammates tackled me, and we all erupted in a frenzy of screams and fist pumps.

Emotion clogged my throat and I blinked away tears, because fuck, I hadn’t even come close to imagining what this would feel like.

To win the fucking Stanley Cup.

“Lincoln. Holy fuck!” yelled Ari, pushing Peters off to tackle me himself. “We fucking did it. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.”

I wrapped an arm around his neck, squeezing him. “Yeah, bud. We fucking did it.”

After a second, he pulled away, his own eyes glistening in a rare show of emotion from my best friend.

But if you didn’t cry a little when you won the championship…there probably wasn’t much you were ever going to cry about.

“Look at us,” crowed Ari as confetti showered us from the rafters.

“Who would have thought?”

“Not me,” he cackled, channeling his best Paul Rudd impression, because that man was comedy gold.

Okay, everyone needed to fuck off now. I needed to get to Monroe.

I pushed my teammates out of the way as I skated towards the boards, and I saw Monroe jumping up and down, screaming and cheering, tears running down her face.

One of the security guards let her into the bench area, and a second later, she launched herself into my arms, her legs wrapping around me, my hands on her ass…and it officially became the best moment of my life.

Our faces were pressed together as I spun around.

Everything disappeared, but me and my perfect dream girl.

“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered through her tears.

I brushed a kiss against her lips.

“Tell me you love me,” I ordered, and she grinned before scrunching up her nose.

“I love you.”

I smacked another kiss on her lips, needing to fuck her the first chance I got, and then I lifted her up. The crowd screamed around us as I skated around the arena with Monroe on my shoulders. She had a death grip on my hair as I skated in a few tight circles…just for shit and giggles. Her thighs squeezed around my neck a few times, and I decided it would be a beautiful way to die.

The crowd loved it, their screams wild and delirious at the sight of us.

Who could blame them? My girl was fucking everything.

As we circled around the ice, I caught glimpses of my teammates who were all cheering and shouting, their faces red and contorted with joy.

Monroe finally let go of my hair, probably remembering I’d rather die than ever see her get hurt, and she waved and laughed at the crowd. Her arms stretched out wide, taking in the moment.

I hoped I remembered what it felt like to be this happy forever.

And I hoped that somewhere, wherever he was…Tyler was happy right then too.

For the first time, I sent him some light.

And for the first time, I swore he sent some back.

We came to a stop at center ice, and I lifted Monroe down from my shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. The noise of the crowd was still ringing in my ears, and I felt like I could stay in this moment forever. I buried my face in her hair, taking in her sweet scent and feeling her warmth against my skin.

‘I can’t wait to fuck you,’ I whispered in her ear.

Her eyes went wide, before she coughed out a laugh.

“Me neither.”

I winked at her right before Ari decided to bless us with his presence. I let him hug her for one second before pulling him off.

“No touching,” I growled, and he threw his head back and cackled like the asshole he was.

Monroe just cuddled against me, because what could she do?

She was stuck with me.

Champagne poured down on us moments later, and for the rest of the fucking night, it was all about the afterglow.

She was riding my cock like a fucking pro on the visitor’s bench–a final “fuck you” to Nashville–in nothing but my jersey, her breasts bouncing as she slid up and down my cock.

I groaned. ‘Fuck. Use me, dream girl. Fuck yourself on my big cock,’ I urged her on, my hands fisting at my sides as I strained against the wood. Her movements were perfect, her tightness surrounding me completely as she rode me harder and harder.

Her hands pressed against my chest as she leaned forward, her hips grinding into me with wild abandon. ‘How is your cock so perfect?’ she muttered, her clit rubbing against my base and driving me wild.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,’ I gasped, my hands sliding up to push the jersey up so I could cup her incredible breasts. I pinched and worked her nipples under my thumbs, and it only made me harder.

‘I love these…Look at these perfect fucking tits,’ I murmured, my hips pumping up into her in perfect sync with her movements. I could smell her sweet pussy and it was driving me mad with need. I sat up enough to take her right nipple into my mouth, my fingers working the other into a painfully hard point.

Her whimper of pleasure was music to my ears, spurring me on as I kissed and licked my way across to her other breast. ‘Yeah. Just like that. Get what you need, baby,’ I growled against her skin, my fingers pinching and tugging her wet nipple as I suckled on the other.

She panted and moaned as her orgasm approached, her hand sliding through my hair and holding me to her. Just a little bit more…I hollowed my cheeks and sucked her nipple hard, driving her over the edge.

Her body convulsed around me, her hips jerking wildly as she pulsed and tightened around my length. It was too much to handle, and my own release crashed through me like a tidal wave.

“Congratulations, baby,” she murmured, her gaze half lidded and lust-drunk.

“We’re not done celebrating yet, sweetheart,” I said through gritted teeth as I started bouncing her on my dick once more.