Off-Limits Puck: Daddy's Best Friend is my Ruin

MELANIE

Gavin had me pinned against the cold locker room wall, his big, calloused hand shoved up under my pink skirt, thick fingers shifting my panties, spreading my soaked folds.

“Fuck, you’re dripping for me, Mel,” he growled in that deep, sexy voice, his light stubble scraping my neck as he thrust two fingers deep inside me. I moaned shamelessly, hips rocking against his palm, my hard nipples poking his broad chest through his shirt.

“Please, Gavin… I’ve waited so long,” I gasped, my hand fumbling with his zipper. “I saved it for you. I want you to be my first.”

He chuckled, curling his fingers against that sensitive spot that made my thighs tremble. “Such a filthy little virgin. You think you can handle me?” His free hand gripped my throat possessively as he lined up the thick head of his cock, teasing my entrance, so close to finally thrusting in and breaking me open—

“Melanie! Earth to Melanie!”

A hand shook my shoulder hard. My eyes flew open, heart pounding, pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing. 

The roar of the crowd at Chatham University’s ice rink hit me hard like a flying puck to the forehead.

Eva stood right in front of me, eyebrows raised. “Girl, how the hell can you sleep in a place this noisy? The crowd’s going wild, and you’re over here dozing off.”

I sat up straighter, cheeks burning, the heat between my legs making my panties stick uncomfortably. My black hair, with its blood-red tips, spilled messily around my face, and the thin black slip dress under my jacket suddenly felt too revealing from sweat.

“Damn it, Eva,” I muttered, frustrated and still aching. “Why did you wake me up? He was about to—”

I cut myself off fast, biting my lip hard. 

Eva smirked, sitting down beside me in the stands. “About to what? Spill it, Mel. You have that glassy-eyed, ‘I’m about to cum’ look.”

​“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped back, shifting in my seat and trying to ignore how wet I still was.

​Apparently, hockey games were just bedtime stories for me, at least until the dreaming started.

Everyone probably thought I was here for my boyfriend, Reynold Mills, the flashy left-winger who’d just scored the game-winning goal like the show-off he was. 

But the truth was simpler and way more pathetic.

I was here for the man barking orders behind the bench in that voice that hit me like a rough fuck every single time.

Gavin Thorne.

My boyfriend’s coach. My father’s best friend, and my dirty little secret.

​He stood by the team bench in his black coach’s jacket, arms crossed over a chest wide enough to crush the life out of me. The arena lights caught the silver in his hair and the rugged line of a jaw that made him look sinful.

Eva leaned in closer, her voice dropping to that annoying ‘concerned best friend’ tone. “Seriously, Mel… promise me you’re not going home with Reynold after this game. That guy is a jerk. The way he checks out other girls when you’re not looking? Gross.”

I rolled my eyes. ​“He notices when I walk into a room, Eva,” I shrugged. “At least someone wants me.”

Eva gave me a look that I understood too well, but didn't say anything else.

​I bit the inside of my cheek, welcoming the metallic taste of blood. She wasn’t wrong, though. Reynold was a dog, but I wasn’t exactly looking for a soulmate. I just needed a distraction, and he was a loud, shiny, convenient one. 

Eva smiled, her eyes drifting toward the ice where her twin was skating. “And speaking of the team, did you see Derek out there? My brother’s killing it this season. That assist on Reynold’s goal? Amazing. He’s been working his ass off.”

​​“Yeah,” I lied. I hadn’t noticed a single thing Derek did. I was too busy burning holes into the back of the silver-haired man on the sidelines, wondering if his hands were as rough as they felt in my dreams.

Then, Eva's phone rang out. She glanced at the screen, then back at me with narrowed, knowing eyes. “Shit, I need to get going. But Mel… listen to me.” She gripped my arm, her voice serious. “If Reynold pushes and you’re not ready, call me. No questions. You don’t have to prove you exist by letting him fuck you just to feel wanted for five minutes.”

Her words stung because they were true, but I just waved her off with a bored flick of my wrist. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it, Mom. I promise. Love you.”

​“Love you more, silly,” she muttered, finally standing up to disappear into the crowd.

The final buzzer sounded. 4-2. Chatham won.

The arena exploded with noise. Players celebrated their win. Then Gavin stepped onto the ice, clapping shoulders with that rare, proud half-smile, the one that made him look human for a split second.

For one stupid, reckless moment, our eyes locked across the rink. I was just a face in the crowd, but he found me.

​He gave me the tiniest nod and a smile. My breath hitched. 

It was just like a normal hello to any other person, but it felt like hitting the jackpot. Like I’d just bet my entire life on a single roll of the dice and finally saw my number come up.

One look. One half-second of attention from him and I was already half-ruined.

Then he turned away, shouting something to the team, and the moment was gone, and I was left sitting there, feeling like an addict who’d just been denied a fix.

I​ stayed in my seat until the crowd started filing out, my jacket pulled tight around me like a shield. I wasn't that cold; I was just trying to hide how turned on I still was. 

I finally stood on shaky legs, feeling like I had to relearn how to walk. Outside, the winter air slapped my flushed cheeks. The parking lot was a mess of honking cars and screaming fans, as Reynold jogged over, his jersey damp with sweat and that familiar, cocky grin plastered across his handsome face. 

“Melanie!” He pulled me into a tight, sweaty hug, his hands settling on my waist. “Did you see that last goal? That was for you, baby.”

I smiled up at him, a practiced look that didn't reach my eyes. “You were amazing, Rey,” I lied again. I hadn’t watched a single second of the game.

His hands stayed on my waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “There’s a victory party at my place tonight. Why don't you come over? We can celebrate... properly.”

His eyes had that hungry look that every other girl in this stadium would probably melt for. 

I hesitated for a moment, that tiny, annoying voice in the back of my head screaming at me to say no. I wasn’t ready for that. Definitely not with him. Not when every part of my body still ached for a man two times my age.

But saying no meant driving home to silence and another night of desperately fingering my dripping pussy while imagining Gavin’s rough hands pinning me down.

Fuck it. I was tired of being the good, abandoned little girl.

I flashed him a reckless smile. “Okay. Just don’t get any crazy ideas, alright?”

​He grinned, looking like he’d just won the lottery for the second time tonight. “Nothing you can’t handle, beautiful.” He kissed my cheek and jogged off.

I watched him go, guilt twisting in my chest, but I shoved it down. I was using him, and I knew it. But right now, I didn’t give a damn.

My eyes drifted to the coaches’ parking section. Gavin’s truck was still there.

For one wild, stupid second, I imagined marching back inside, finding him alone, shoving him against the wall, and boldly confessing my feelings to him. 

​I shook my head hard, the dark-red tips of my hair whipping against my cheeks. 

Get it together, Mel. 

I climbed into my car and cranked the engine, the sound of the heater drowning out the silly thoughts in my head before I could do something that would actually ruin my life. 

Reynold’s text came through a minute later with the address. I plugged it into my GPS and pulled out of the lot. The drive wasn’t long, but I stopped to fill my gas tank and grab a pack of my favorite mint gum.

Reynold’s family had the kind of money that bought silence. The house was a huge, sleek modern mansion with a long driveway lined by beautiful trees. 

But as I pulled up, the place was way too quiet for a victory party. No loud music. No overflow of cars. Just his black Porsche parked out front.

I sat there with the engine running for a second, brows furrowed, fingers tapping the wheel. 

What the hell? Was I too early? 

I killed the engine, grabbed my bag, and walked up the stone path. The front door was cracked open.

“Reynold?” I called, pushing it wider and stepping inside.

The living room lights were turned down low, the air smelling like expensive cologne and whiskey.

There was no answer.

I took a few more steps in, my voice a little louder. My pulse started to race, but for the first time tonight, it wasn't because of Gavin. 

​“Rey? I’m here.”