The Pucking Wrong Guy: Chapter 10


I slouched on the lounger on my back deck, my gaze locked on the horizon as the sun began its ascent, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink. The smell of alcohol lingered in the air, a testament to my futile attempt to drown out my overwhelming urge to go to her house, to sneak into her bed, and keep her close.

My longing for her was all-consuming, a relentless desire that gnawed at my insides. I craved her presence, her warmth, her essence by my side at all times. Patience was becoming an unbearable burden, each moment without her a slow descent into madness. The ache in my chest felt like it might actually be the death of me.

Needing some distraction, I picked up my phone to text Linc.

Me: Hypothetically….

Lincoln: Oh boy.

Me: What?

Lincoln: I’m just preparing myself for what you’re about to say.

Me: What do you mean you’re preparing yourself? I spew excellence, golden boy. Remember that.

Lincoln: You spew excellence? I just spewed my Gatorade everywhere.

Me: I don’t drink Gatorade. I don’t put chemicals in my temple.

Lincoln: You don’t put chemicals in your “temple.” Are you drunk?

Me: …

Lincoln: It’s 9am and you have practice today…California’s that good, eh?


Lincoln: Ok, so what were you saying?

Me: About what?

Lincoln: Hypothetically…

Me: Hypothetically what?

Lincoln: Go sleep it off.

Me: I wish I could…

I threw my phone on the seat next to me, because that had only made me feel marginally better.

I could probably use some Gatorade though, now that Lincoln had brought it up.

I didn’t actually have anything against it…

Walking inside, I headed towards the kitchen, the world spinning a bit around me. I did in fact have team weights in two hours, so I needed to at least be able to walk straight before showing up.

Grabbing a purple one out of the fridge, because grape was obviously the superior flavor, I paced the kitchen, sipping it slowly so I didn’t throw up.

Tequila in last night’s case…was not a good idea.

She’d at least sent that text to him though…and tried to call him. I mean, he’d never gotten it, but I’d take care of that. I never wanted her to talk to him again. No matter what he’d meant to her.

wanted to mean everything to her. He was never supposed to have been around in the first place.

Fuck. I was going to go crazy, and I needed to fix my name in her phone before I called her. Was there a way to hack that shit?

I’d just stop by after weights. I could do that. It was a couple of hours.

I wouldn’t actually go insane.

I sniffed my shirt, wincing with how bad it smelled. A shower was definitely in order. I couldn’t have hygiene like Soto.

Stepping into the water, I turned it to scalding hot to try and clear my head. The rhythmic sound of droplets pattering against the tiles filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the tumult of thoughts swirling in my mind.

I leaned forward, my palm pressed firmly against the slick, tiled wall, feeling the heat seep into my skin.

Closing my eyes, I let the warm water wash over me, caress against my skin. I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax, to let go of the tension that was gripping me.

But the memories of last night were stuck in my head, the taste of her lips, the feel of her tight, perfect cunt…

My hand found my aching dick and I stroked it from root to tip. It was Lincoln and tequila’s fault that I had this piercing to begin with. We’d signed our rookie contracts and got absolutely shit-faced. Before I knew it, I was getting my cock pierced and we were getting matching butterfly tattoos. Somehow, I think he got the better end of things… At least the butterfly tattoos had a meaning.

Although I had to admit, the sex was next level with it. Blake’s eyes had practically rolled back in her skull when she’d felt it on her G-spot.

I continued to stroke my dick, thinking of the taste of her. And then suddenly…

Blake was on her knees in front of me, naked. Blowing my fucking mind. Her breasts were full with rosy pink nipples just begging to be sucked. She was wide-eyed, her pupils blown from how turned on she was….from sucking my cock. I twisted my fingers in her hair, surging into her sweet, hot mouth. She choked out a moan as I hit the back of her throat, her breasts arching towards me. I knew if I reached down between her parted legs, she wouldn’t just be wet from the shower.

“Touch yourself,” I groaned as I fucked into her mouth.

Her hands went to her breasts and she pulled and kneaded at her tips.

And I was dying. Obsessed…

And coming. Fuck. I was on fire. Possessed. I surged into her mouth and emptied hot cum down her throat, pulling out halfway so it spurted all over her tits and chest. I wished we weren’t in the shower, and that it wasn’t washing off. I wished she could just walk around like that, covered in me. So everyone would know who she belonged to.

I came back to earth, cum coating the shower wall. One of the most intense orgasms of my life…just from thinking about her.

And I was still hard.

Can you sprain your dick? Because that was going to happen now that it had found nirvana. The “Maximus 5000” would need to be fed. Daily.

Hourly actually.

Fuckkk. I dragged a hand down my face and finished my shower, resisting the urge to wank off again like a…wanker, I guess.

An hour later, I was in an Uber on the way to the practice facility for weights…still slightly drunk.

The team gym was an assault on my senses, way too much clinking weights, grunts, and the persistent thump of bass-heavy music. It was how I usually liked it, when I didn’t have a bottle of Patron still swishing around in my gut.

Walker, Mr. Prince Charming himself, was already there, his hulking figure bent over a weight bench. His hair was damp with sweat, and his muscles strained as he pushed the barbell up and down with ease. He had the kind of build that could stop a tank engine, which made him an excellent goalie.

‘Morning, sun sizzle,’ Walker quipped as I approached, his voice a rumble beneath the music. ‘Or should I say ‘morning after’?’

“Did you just call me “sun sizzle?”” I asked incredulously, chuckling in disbelief, or at least I hoped it sounded like a chuckle. Kinda sounded like a witch cackle to my own ears. ‘Walker, my man, you’re looking disturbingly awake for someone who was at the same party as me last night.’

Walker paused mid-lift to give me an arrogant look. ‘Welcome to Cali, Ari Lancaster. We know how to party here.’

“You’re from Tennessee originally, right?” I drawled.

As I sauntered over to the weights, my muscles singing a chorus of protest, Walker set the weights on the rack and flipped me off..

‘I knew you were unhinged, buddy, but “sun sizzle” just confirms it.’

He let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to contemplate his statement. ‘You forgot about your hangover for half a second, didn’t you?’

I mean, maybe I was just drunk, but I was really starting to think that Walker deserved to be in on the bromance Lincoln and I had been in for all these years. I mean, he would be mostly the bro and less of the mance since Lincoln could only have one Ari. But it was worth considering.

I’d circle back to it when I was sober and thinking clearly.

‘So, the big game against Dallas is coming up? Any secret tricks up those sleeves of yours?’

I shot him a sly grin, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow. ‘Ah, Walker, my friend, the secret is an ancient and mystical art called teamwork.’

Walker’s eyes widened dramatically. ‘Teamwork? You’re blowing my mind here, Lancaster. But that’s it? No secret rituals…pregame dance-offs with Lincoln?’

I grinned. ‘Walker, you just want an excuse to hang out with ol’ Golden Boy again, don’t you?’

Walker freaking blushed, and I was rethinking letting him into the circle of trust. He was a simp if there ever was one.

“I hate to break it to you, Walker, my man, but Lincoln is my best friend. You simp for both of us, or you don’t simp at all,” I said, shaking my finger at him.

Walker gaped at me. “I—I do simp. I mean—”

“Ari, quit torturing our goalie,” Tommy yelled from across the room.

I grinned at both of them, feeling remarkably better all of a sudden. Walker was just too easy.

We got back to lifting, and of course, my mind wandered to Blake. She was a song stuck on repeat, one I was never going to get tired of. I slipped out my phone, pulling up my handy dandy tracking app. Good, she was still at her apartment. I could just picture her sprawled on her bed, her hand between her legs—

The gym door swung open, saving me from what was going to be a very embarrassing and untimely woodie, and in walked Soto, a smug grin on his ugly fucker of a face. His arm was thrown around Charlotte, who was definitely high on something judging by the distinct glaze over her eyes, like she’d stumbled into a room she hadn’t quite intended to enter. The corners of her mouth were upturned in a dreamy smile, and she was swaying in place.

Soto then tried to choke her with his tongue, pushing it so far down her throat, I was shocked she wasn’t throwing up. He squeezed her ass and gave it a slap, well aware of everyone watching. I exchanged a bemused look with Walker, who simply rolled his eyes.

‘I guess the fun’s over now that asshole has arrived,’ I sighed, and he shook his head in amusement.

Soto released Charlotte, and unfortunately decided to wander our way. He walked with an exaggerated swagger, his chest puffed out like a bantam rooster, his eyes also glazed over. Hope this week wasn’t his turn for a random drug test. He’d be screwed.

Actually…what the fuck was I saying? Of course I hoped he got tested this week.

I was never drinking Patron again. I obviously couldn’t think straight on it.

“You disappeared last night…you and Walker find a dark room to play in?”

I looked at him, a bemused smile playing on my lips as I kept in the eye roll that was twitching in my face. ‘Soto, my man,’ I greeted him, my tone dripping with a faux-friendly sweetness. ‘You seem positively brimming with enthusiasm today. But you have some white powder right…’ I pointed to his banana sized nose.

Soto’s face reddened, and he swiped at his face. ‘Don’t get smart with me, Lancaster,’ he growled.

I shrugged, feigning innocence. ‘Who, me? Never.’ I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘But if you ever need tips on wooing the ladies without making a scene, you know where to find me. It’s all about finesse, my friend.’

“Fuck you, Lancaster.”

‘You know, Soto,’ I began, my voice dripping with mock concern, ‘I would. But they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And I’ve yet to meet anyone whose eye is that forgiving to let you in their bed.’

Soto’s face contorted with rage, and he sputtered for a retort that never came. I resumed lifting weights as Walker chuckled next to me.

I winked at him. “Spot me on this, and we can get out of here. It’s starting to smell.”

Walker nodded and stood over me as I lifted the bar.

Half an hour more and I could see my girl.


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