chapter one

Chapter one

Kieran's pov

Three weeks before Game night

 I pushed open the wrong door, the bass from the club still thudding behind me, then I stopped in my tracks.

 “Beg for it, you filthy little whore,” Aiden growled, voice low and rough.

 “Please, Sir…fuck, please wreck me,” the stripper gasped. His wrists were locked high in leather cuffs hanging from a ceiling hook, his body arched and glistening with sweat under the red lights. A guy with a black tie was pressed tight behind him, driving into him with slow, powerful thrusts that made the chains rattle.

 I should have backed out immediately. Instead, my feet stayed rooted.

 “Louder,” The same guy ordered, slapping the stripper’s ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. “Tell the whole club how much you love being my personal cum-dump.” He slammed in deeper, burying himself completely.

 “Yes…Sir! Wreck me! Ruin my slutty hole!” the stripper cried out, voice breaking. “I’m your dirty whore, your toy…please choke me while you break me open. I need it so bad, ”

 The guy leaned in, chest flush against the stripper’s back, and wrapped one strong hand around his throat while the other stroked his leaking cock with rough, teasing pulls. “That’s it,” he murmured intimately against his ear, hips rolling in deep, filthy circles. “So fucking tight and greedy for me. You were made for this cock, weren’t you? Made to take everything I give you like the perfect little slut you are.”

 The stripper shuddered and pushed back desperately. “Yes, Sir… only for you. Please fill me up..let me cum…”

 The guy bit down on his neck, leaving a dark mark, then picked up speed. The wet, obscene sounds of their fucking filled the small room as he pounded into him with raw intensity. Sweat dripped between their bodies, as the guy dominated every inch of the stripper with a commanding, merciless rhythm, then his head snapped toward me, and our eyes locked.

 Even as he kept thrusting…slow, deliberate, grinding deep, the guy's dark gaze burned into mine, with a slow, wicked smirk curved unto his lips. 

 Yet, he didn’t stop, he didn’t look away. The heat in that stare hit me like a physical force, sending an unwanted rush of heat straight through my body; my cock twitched traitorously, my mouth went dry. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe properly.

 The pull was immediate and terrifying. Something dark and addictive stirred low in my gut as I watched him claim the stripper, all while staring straight at me like I was the one he really wanted to be pinned and begging.

 I stumbled back and yanked the door shut, heart hammering. Yet, the image followed me into the hallway, because I could not understand why a stranger had affected me that way.

What the fuck? I have a girlfriend, and I had never questioned what I was attracted to before. Melody and I had been together for almost two years. Between hockey, training and her, my life had always made sense. I knew exactly who I was, or at least...I thought I did,  and the fact that this stranger had unsettled me so completely made my pulse hammer with irritation.

Present day…  game night.

 Three weeks later, I still couldn’t get that night out of my mind.

“Pass it!!!”

 The game had turned into pure chaos. Northcrest and Westbridge had spent years trying to destroy each other on the ice. Every match between us felt like a final, and tonight, only one captain would lead his team into the semi-finals.

 “Getting tired already, Ashcroft?” Aiden Voss, captain of Northcrest, shouted after stealing the puck and skated away laughing, the sound cutting through the arena noise.

Aiden Voss; the name hit harder than it should have. So this was him; the stranger from the club wasn't just another face I'd never see again. He was my biggest obstacle between Westbridge and the championship.

Fuck.

 I chased him down the ice, gripping the stick tightly. “Keep dreaming, Voss.”

 He was everywhere. Every time I tried to hit him, he slipped away. Every opening I made, he was waiting, and by the end of the first period, it no longer felt like hockey, but rather personal.

 The second period got worse; heavy hits sparked retaliation, and benches nearly cleared.

“Captain,” Rowan muttered, “that Northcrest captain keeps looking over here.”

I followed his glance before I could stop myself.

Damn it. I wasn't sure if he was watching me...or if I was the one who couldn't stop watching him.

I caught him smirking, and the way his eyes lit up. The fuck? 

“Focus, Rowan,” I said, forcing my attention back to the puck.

Rowan smirked. “Yes, Captain”

Aiden skated into the face-off circle and caught the tail end of the exchange. His slow grin made my stomach twist with the same unwanted heat from that night.

“What?” he taunted. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Ashcroft.”

I shoved him hard. “Focus on the game.”

“Trying to,” he said, laughing as he skated away. “You’re the one who keeps looking at me.”

His laugh followed me down the ice.

By the third period, everything was tied, and exhaustion was winning, until Rowan intercepted a turnover and slid the puck to me…Open ice.

“Go!” he yelled.

I took the shot, the red light flashed, and immediately the arena exploded.

My teammates swarmed me. Rowan nearly strangled me in a hug. “That’s my captain! We’re going to the semi- finals, baby!”

But even as they piled on, my eyes found Aiden on the Northcrest bench. He stood there watching with that same slow, wicked smile from the club three weeks ago.

The memory flooded back again; the eye contact, the heat, the dark pull I still didn’t understand. I looked away fast, but it stayed with me.

We had won the game, and  I should've been celebrating with my team. Instead, all I could think about was Aiden Voss, and somehow...that felt like losing.

Later that night, after the game.

 I stood under the flickering fluorescent lights of the deserted bathroom, cold water still dripping down my neck from where I’d splashed my face. 

 The win should’ve left me buzzing, but Aiden’s smile after the final buzzer kept replaying in my head…slow, knowing, victorious even in defeat. It gnawed at me, restless and wrong, until a humming reached me; it was low, throaty, private. It drifted from the far end like a lure I couldn’t ignore. My sneakers squeaked against the wet tiles as I moved forward, each step heavier than the last.

 The humming cut off as the stall door swung open with a slow creak.

 Aiden stepped out in nothing but a towel hanging on his torso, water cascading from his dark hair in rivulets that traced every ridge of his collarbones, sliding down the lean muscle of his chest. 

They caught on the fresh black ink of the ouroboros tattoo coiled over his heart; a serpent devouring itself in an endless, hungry loop. His grin hit me instantly, sharp and wicked, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

 My pulse slammed against my ribs, and the air between us thickened. It felt electric.

“Look who we have here.. stalking me now, pretty boy”, he chuckled, walking past me towards his locker.

 “Not in a million years fucker.. what song were you humming?” The words scraped out of me.

 Aiden tilted his head, a droplet sliding from his lashes and down his cheek. “Uhn?”

 “What song were you humming?”

 “You won’t know it…” His voice was velvet dragged over gravel. “It’s ‘my’ song. Only people close to me have heard it, and you, hockey king, aren’t part of those people.”

 “I wouldn’t dream of being so,” I muttered, but my eyes betrayed me, tracking a single bead of water as it slipped lower, carving a path over his abs.

 “Then why are you still here…” He pushed off the stall frame and circled me slowly, deliberately, his bare shoulder brushing mine just enough to send heat sparking across my skin. “And giving me the same look you did when you walked into the sex room three weeks ago?”

 “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My voice came out rougher than I wanted.

 “Is that so?” Aiden drifted towards the down lockers, muscles shifting under damp skin with every step. The tattoo flexed as he reached for his bag, alive and mocking. He glanced back, eyes locking onto mine. “If you’re so intoxicated by it, why don’t you touch it?” 

 He smiled, slow, filthy, and yanked his t-shirt over his head, but not before giving me the full view; water-slick skin, the dark ink, the sharp V of his hips disappearing into low-slung shorts, then he stepped straight into my space, so close I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell of soap mixed with raw sweat and something darker. His breath ghosted across my jaw.

 My fists clenched hard at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. Heat flooded my neck, my chest, and lower.

 “It’s either you’re deranged, or you’re just psycho,” I growled, leaning in despite myself until our chests nearly collided. “I don’t do that disgusting shit. For your information, I’m not into guys…I have a girlfriend, so get that shit out of your head.”

 “Is that so, Ashcroft?” His grin sharpened, eyes darkening as he tilted his face closer. “Then why does it seem like you’re so obsessed with everything about me? I mean, if you didn’t have a girlfriend, I would think you wanna fuck me, and have your turn as the stripper…I mean, it's clear with the way you keep looking at me….you know, all you gotta do is ask, and I will gladly pound your ass.”

 I surged forward before thought could stop me, crowding him back half a step until his back hit the locker with a metallic thud. “I would rather lose a tournament than be fucked by your lousy ass.”

 “Ouuu,” he breathed against my mouth, voice thick with dark thrill, bodies so close now that every inhale pressed us tighter. “Is that a challenge, pretty boy?”