We are taking book requests on our companion website. You can request books here. Make sure, you are following the rules.

The Pucking Wrong Guy: Chapter 27



Tonight was the night, the game that would decide if we made the playoffs. Or at least partially decide. Thanks to some late season losses, we weren’t entirely in charge of our destiny. We had to beat Seattle, but Dallas also had to beat Detroit for us to get in. Dallas, unfortunately, would be playing at the same time as us, so we wouldn’t know the outcome of their game until ours was done.

I wasn’t as worried about that second part though; Linc had already promised he’d do whatever it took to get Dallas the win. And my golden nugget of a best friend never let me down.

The bigger concern was that we had to win—a tougher hurdle for sure. Tommy had strained his quad muscle last game and wasn’t at 100%. Another of our defensemen, Caffrey, had the flu this week, and Soto…well, Soto just sucked.

I wanted to help my boys to the playoffs. We wouldn’t be winning the Cup—we weren’t good enough—but I wanted the playoffs at least.

No matter what though, I’d stay on cloud nine, the same cloud I’d been living on since Blake had decided she absolutely wanted to be Mrs. Lancaster. Now I just lived in a constant state of happiness, like an eternal high.


Blake Lancaster was the most amazing, beautiful, kind, perfect angel in existence, and getting to be with her was the best fucking thing in the world.

10/10 would recommend.

My phone buzzed next to me on the locker room bench where I was relaxing as I got in the zone.

“Hey there, golden boy,” I drawled pulling him up on Facetime.

“Just making sure you showed up to the game and didn’t get stuck again,” Lincoln snorted, raking his hands through his golden god hair.

“That was one time!”

“It happened last week, buddy! And you somehow thought it would be a good idea to call me instead of 911…after you got your pierced dick stuck inside your wife! What the hell was I going to do? You were literally inside her as you were talking to me!”

“Pssh, your calming presence helped me to relax enough to get it out. You were very helpful.”

Lincoln sighed, pretending to be annoyed with me. He was such a funny guy.


‘Anyways…my gigantic pierced cock that you’re wildly jealous over is not stuck in Blake,” I said, right as Walker sat down next to me.

The weirdo fell off the bench at my comment. Even though it was perfectly normal. A known risk for baller penises everywhere.

“Did Disney just pass out?” Lincoln snorted, raising an eyebrow, and I shook my head as Walker dragged himself off the floor, glaring at me the whole time, and sat back on the bench.

“Yes,” I sighed with mock exasperation. “Definitely not ‘circle of trust’ behavior.”

Walker huffed next to me and I gave him a little wink.

“Okay, focus, Lancaster. I’m going to go out there and score a million goals so we win, and you’re going to hit a bunch of people and make sure Disney gets proper protection…deal?”

“Why does my job sound so much funner than yours?” I wondered aloud.

Lincoln snorted again and then hesitated. “Can you take me off Facetime?” he asked.

I frowned and nodded, making it a regular call and holding the phone up to my ear.

“What’s up?”

“Year’s almost up.” There was a question in his voice, a question that was still an easy answer. Blake was completely on board even if it meant we’d have to fly back and forth to L.A. for her jobs sometimes.

“Yeah, what’s your question?” I asked innocently, just because I wanted to hear him say it. Lincoln Daniels luvvvved Ari Lancaster.

“Are—are you still coming home?” He sounded so un-Daniels-like, a name usually synonymous with cocky badass. It was hil-ari-ous.

Hmmm, I never noticed, my name was in that word.



“Sorry, what did you ask?”

“Fuck you,” he growled, finally catching on to my little joke.

I glanced at Walker who was pretending not to be eavesdropping even though tension was threaded through his whole body. Poor Disney, he didn’t know yet that I was going to make sure he came with me. With how well he’d done, and with Bender announcing his retirement from the Dallas net, it should be an easy sell.

“Yes, Linc. Your snookums is still planning on coming home.”

There was a long silence, almost like my buddy was having trouble holding in his emotions.

“Snookums?” he finally said, sounding infinitely happier than he had before my answer.

“Not good? I’ll keep workshopping.”

I was smiling weirdly into the phone, but it was warranted. Lincoln Daniels was going to be my best friend forever.

“Make ’em cry out there tonight, Lancaster, and tell Disney good luck,” Lincoln added as I heard someone in the background calling his name.

“You just score those goals,” I answered before hanging up.

“Lincoln, um…did he say hi?” Walker asked, all cute and simp like. His usual M.O.

“He may have said good luck.”

Walker perked up. “Wait…he said that? He said good luck?”

“I said he “may” have said good luck.”

“Ari,” Walker whined, looking so pathetic I had to give him what he wanted.

“Fine, he did wish you good luck.”

Walker jumped up and did a shimmy. I scoffed indignantly. “I tell you good luck all the fucking time, and I give you an ass tap! What else could you want?”

Walker froze mid shake of his ass. “Right, it’s totally the same.”

“You’re placating me! I don’t like placaters, Walker Davis. No ass tap for you tonight!”

He pretended to be chastened even as his whole fucking body shook with laughter.

I stared around the room. The rest of my teammates were all tense and gloomy, like they were already confident in a loss before the game even started. Which was stupid. Yes, the team had issues, but we’d beaten Seattle this year…twice. This wasn’t going to do at all.

I stood up off the bench. “Disney, give me a tune,” I ordered, and Walker wasted no time in grabbing his phone. A few seconds later, “Shake It Off” hit the locker room speakers.

As usual, Tay Tay’s music was instant magic. Our teammates, even the most stoic ones, couldn’t resist the infectious beat.

Walker led the charge, attempting a moonwalk that resembled a drunken stumble. Eddy’s moves were wild and unpredictable, like a toddler on too much sugar. He twirled, spun, and even attempted the worm—actually not that bad.

I let myself go, bringing out my ‘dad moves,’ even though the only people calling me “daddy” tonight were going to be the Seattle forwards. I really gave it my all, complete with finger guns and a sprinkler dance.

The last notes faded and I grinned, because as usual, our “Shake It Off” had done its job. The team was much more relaxed.

Coach’s pre-game speech was a fucking masterpiece. He got in our faces, reminding us of the blood, sweat, and tears we’d poured into this shit. ‘You’ve trained your asses off, played your asses off, and sacrificed everything for this moment!’ he bellowed. ‘That jersey ain’t just cloth and colors, fellas. It’s a fuckin’ symbol of our legacy, When you step on that ice, you’re not just playing for yourselves. You’re playing for every Cobra who’s ever bled for this team, for this city!’

The whole team roared, and with one last “Cobras” cheer, it was game time.

As I stepped onto the ice, it felt familiar.

It was a surreal realization.

I’d started this season feeling like an alien who’d landed on a foreign planet. I’d dreaded every practice, convinced myself everything sucked, that I couldn’t wait to leave. I’d counted down the fucking days.

But now…I realized I was going to miss this place. Somewhere along the way, it had started to feel, well…nice.

I went to the glass to make googly eyes at Blake, pointing behind her. She shot me a quizzical look and turned around, only to see an employee holding a sign that said, “Mrs. Lancaster is my baby angel face. Do Not Touch.”

“Nice,” she groaned, her face turning a beautiful tomato color.

“You look hot in that jersey, Mrs. Lancaster,” I yelled as I skated away.

The game kicked off, and Seattle wasn’t taking any prisoners. They hit us hard and fast, like a bunch of crazed bulls charging at a matador. Walker was a fucking rockstar. He blocked shot after shot, making it look easy in the net.

“That’s my goalie!” I yelled as Walker made his twentieth save…of the period. And it wasn’t that I was sucking…I was kicking ass. Seattle was just killing our forwards with Tommy playing injured.

Seattle got called for high sticking and we found ourselves on a power play. Tommy somehow came up with a burst of speed despite his injured leg, skating like a man possessed. He maneuvered through their defense and fired the puck. It bounced off one of Seattle’s own men and ricocheted into the net. We all went nuts.

In the second period, Seattle tied us with some flashy moves and slick passes after Soto decided to drop his gloves and engage in a bare-knuckle brawl with a Seattle guy. We watched, bewildered, but I guess it was…progress. He wasn’t trying to beat up his own teammate for once.

Still fucking hated him though. And I still hoped he fell off a cliff or got hit by a car.

But progress was progress.

By the third period, victory was within our grasp. I blocked shots like a human wall, taking hits and deflecting pucks like the “James Norris Memorial Trophy” winner I was. And in the final minutes, with their goalie pulled, we knew we had it. I knocked the puck loose and sent it to Tommy, who made the easy goal.

The final buzzer sounded, and the whole team skated towards the bench to find out the Dallas score. Some of the staff had been tracking it while we played, and Dallas and Detroit were currently tied 1-1, with three minutes left. The arena was already in full celebration mode, obviously forgetting there was one important piece of the puzzle left…but we were glued to one of the assistant coach’s iPhones. Every passing second was agony, our collective gaze locked on the screen as if we could will the result.

And then it came—Lincoln had a breakaway shot and slipped the goal right in between the goalie’s legs. Because golden boy was my fucking hero, he pointed to the nearest camera and blew a kiss.

I snatched that shit up as the rest of the team started celebrating.

We were playoff-bound, baby!

I turned to look for Blake and saw her running through the aisle of seats. I slipped past some of the guys and awkwardly ran up the steps, my blades smacking against the flooring.

“You did it,” she screamed, jumping into my arms. I spun her around, burying my face in her neck. Visualizing what it would have been like to have found her before last year’s Stanley Cup win.

Then it really would have been perfect.

Next year, I vowed to myself. Next year I’d make that happen.

Right then, the bigger victory–the only victory that really mattered–was that Blake was in my arms.

And it’s where she would stay.



The night became a blur of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses as we threw back shots. Cobras’ ownership had thrown an epic party, turning one of the arena’s specialty function rooms into a wild celebration that had spilled out into the hallways and everywhere else in the arena. Someone said that Walker was on the ice with some girl, with nothing but a sock over his cock.

It was that kind of night.

I was definitely feeling it, my cheeks flushed and my laughter easy and carefree. Ari was equally intoxicated and we were currently making a very unstealthy escape from the ruckus…so we could fuck. Holding hands, we navigated through the maze of tipsy players, staff, and fans, our laughter bubbling up as we tried to stay upright. The music from the party grew fainter with each step, and soon, we found ourselves in a quieter hallway.

Ari leaned against the wall, his trademark grin on full display. He’d lost his shirt somewhere along the way and I took him in, admiring for a second the Blake tattoo etched across his sculpted chest.

He looked so ridiculously hot. I could feel my body softening from just staring at him, my pussy getting wet and ready to be fucked. I wanted him any way I could have him.

“Is my baby feeling needy?” he purred as he pushed me against the wall.

I nodded as I slowly pulled up my jersey, but Ari grabbed my hand before I could get it off.

‘I want to take you just in this,’ he whispered gruffly, and I nodded, shivering in anticipation. His hands reached under the hem of the jersey and pulled down my leggings, taking my thong with them. I held onto his shoulders as I stepped out of the clothes, the cool air making me well aware I was naked from the waist down. His gaze took me in and he pulled me towards him, grabbing my chin and angling my face as he pressed a hot, searing kiss on my lips.

My fingers dragged down his chest, and he bit down on my bottom lip as my nails sank into his skin. The hand that had been holding my jaw trailed down, holding onto my neck in a possessive, erotic grip while his other hand covered my breast through the jersey, gently squeezing and kneading at it. He leaned towards me, his hot tongue licking along the shell of my ear.

‘All mine,’ he growled as his lips moved down my skin, stopping on my pulse point where he gently licked and sucked at my flesh.

‘Ari,’ I whimpered.

‘Shhh, sunshine. That’s a good girl. I’m going to take such good care of you.’

I heard something then, as Ari’s tongue continued to slide across my skin, a slow, exquisite torture I never wanted to end.

Turning my head towards the direction of the sound, I froze because one of the last people on earth I would’ve expected was standing at the end of the hall, staring at us.

It was Clark.

He’d still been texting me constantly, but I’d blocked his number—for real. I didn’t want anything to do with the past. The therapist that I’d started going to had helped me work through the guilt I felt when it came to Clark. I didn’t have to stay with someone out of guilt. I could understand that now thanks to weekly sessions. Clark may have been my past, but Ari was my past and my future.

Clark’s gaze glittered in the darkness, and maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just that I was tired of reminders from a past I’d finally let go.

But I didn’t tell Ari he was there.

I suddenly wanted to make a point, just like Ari would have wanted.

That I didn’t belong to my past or my guilt or anything else.

I belonged to Ari.

And I was all about that.

I didn’t say anything as Ari turned me around and bent me forward so my ass was presented to him.

I didn’t say anything as he lined our bodies up, slowly rolling his hard cock through my folds, getting the shaft nice and wet. His hand slid between my legs, massaging my clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

‘Mine,’ he murmured as his other hand fucked into my core. ‘This cunt. It’s ruined me.’

I grabbed his dick. “Mine,” I said back, my tone confident and possessive… His gaze lit up with amusement. I glanced at Clark over Ari’s shoulder, so he would know that I meant it. His face was pale and shocked…and devastated.

I closed my eyes as Ari’s fingers pressed and rubbed at that spot inside me, and I came on his talented hands, arching and moving against him like we were fucking already.

‘Most fucking gorgeous girl ever,” he groaned.

I glanced down the hall, and Clark was still standing there for some reason. Obviously he hadn’t gotten the memo yet.

Ari turned me around, his hands gripping my ass as he once again slid his pierced dick through my sopping wet folds. The friction sent another tiny orgasm fluttering through my insides. I was much louder than I would usually be because I wanted Clark to know that Ari made me feel things that he never could.

In the back of my mind, I was well aware that I’d lost it, that what I was doing was unnecessary. Cruel, actually.

But I wanted to give Ari what he always gave me. Complete and unrelenting devotion. I felt like this was my chance to prove I was all in, even if Ari was unaware of what I was doing.

His mouth claimed mine in a deep, hungry kiss, and I eagerly sucked on his tongue, whimpering with the need I had for his dick to be inside of me.

‘Ari, please,’ I begged, loving the hot smile he gave me because he fucking loved when I begged for him.

‘I’ve got you, baby,’ he promised. My eyes were heavy lidded as they ran over his flawless, muscled chest. Everything about him was designed to be my personal wet dream. I wanted to get on my knees to worship him. I glanced at Clark, frozen in place. I’d never had that desire with him.

Ari sucked on my neck, hard enough that he for sure was leaving a love spot. I loved when he marked me. I actually loved when he covered me with his cum too. Every day stoked the fires of both of our obsessions.

And it wasn’t because I was drunk. Sober me felt like this as well. Like I couldn’t get enough. Like I never would.

He rubbed his glistening head through my folds once more and then he plunged into me, sucking my tongue greedily and capturing the relieved whimpers that were streaming out of my mouth.

‘Yes, so fucking good,’ he groaned as he slammed in and out of me. That ring, that fucking wedding ring embedded into the head of his dick, hit the entrance to my womb every time, sending small spikes of pain and pleasure shooting through me. Ari expertly angled his hips, hitting different places and making me scream.

‘So perfect. I’ll never get enough of this cunt, Blake. Mine.’

An orgasm was building inside of me. Again. And I bit down into his chest, trying to stave it off because it felt so intense.

‘Do it for me, sunshine. Choke my cock with your sweet pussy.’

His dirty words sent me over the edge and I was coming, setting him off too. His thrusts became erratic, and he groaned loudly as his warm seed spilled into me.

‘Fuck,’ he said, burying his face in my neck, like he always did. We stayed there, connected like that for a long minute, before I remembered that we’d had a visitor.

When I peered down the hall though, Clark was gone.

Sick satisfaction slid through my veins, like a sinuous poison. It felt so good to have Ari claim me like that.

I had a feeling that Clark wouldn’t be back, that the message had successfully been sent.

Ari Lancaster had ruined me.

There was no room for anyone else. I didn’t want anyone else.

Ari pulled out and we both groaned, his fingers immediately going between my thighs, pushing the cum back in that had spilled out. He did that almost every time we had sex, like he couldn’t bear for any of him to come out of me.

‘I didn’t know you were so into exhibitionism, sunshine,’ he murmured, and I froze, even as his fingers sank into me.

I stared up at him, afraid I’d see anger or maybe even disgust.

But all I saw was hot male satisfaction.

“I think you made the point quite nicely, Blake. And any time you want to fuck me to prove a point, I’m your man,’ he whispered.

I blushed and he growled as he bit down on my neck, before licking away the pain.

‘Just as long as I’m your man all the other times too.’

“Always,” I murmured.

And I’d never meant something more.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


not work with dark mode