Alle Kapitel von Steamy Ice Cold Hockey Romance (Compilation): Kapitel 21 – Kapitel 30

POV SloaneEight months ago, my brother forgot how to wake up.I remember thinking that was the strangest way to describe what had happened. The doctors never called it sleep. They called it unconsciousness, and they spoke in careful voices that made everything sound less frightening than it was. But I knew my brother. Jaxson didn’t sleep this long. He didn’t stay still. He didn’t lie quietly while machines breathed for him. He was the kind of person who could never sit through an entire movie without getting up for snacks, never walk past a hockey rink without stopping to watch, and never accept losing without demanding another chance. Even as kids, if I beat him at anything, he would insist on a rematch before I’d even put the game away. Now I could hold his hand for hours and get nothing in return.I sat beside him that morning, watching pale light creep through the hospital blinds. His face looked peaceful, which somehow made everything worse. The bruises from the accident ha

The practice rink felt colder when it was empty.
No crowd noise. No boards rattling from other drills. Just the low hum of the refrigeration system and the sharp scrape of three pairs of skates already waiting for me at center ice. Maddox “Brick” stood tall and broad, silence making the empty rink feel colder still. 
Callahan “Rook” circled him, stick tapping the ice as he muttered something I couldn’t hear. Honestly, I didn’t care. 
Gary “Tank” leaned against the boards, arms crossed, watching me like he already didn’t trust me. Annoying. I’d picked up their nicknames by accident last season while stuck on the bench, watching the veterans. Brick. Rook. Tank. I’d learned enough from the sidelines to know they liked getting inside a rookie’s head just for fun. The way they watched me now made it clear they planned the same for me. I stepped onto the ice and felt every inch of the binding pull tight across my ribs. “Sterling.” Brick’s voice carried without effort. “Drop the stic

Sloane's POV The hot water beat down on my shoulders in heavy streams, sluicing over skin still flushed from the ice. Steam curled thick around me. I braced one hand against the cool tile and let my head tip forward.Ovulation had been riding me for two days—every brush of fabric, every hard check, every time someone's body had pressed against mine left a low, relentless ache between my legs. I wasn't supposed to feel this awkward, but my mind kept replaying the crash earlier with Brick.Holy shit! It was absolutely hell!The solid band of his arm locking around my waist, the sudden heat of his chest, the way my breath had stuttered for all the wrong reasons. The contact had lit something I couldn't shut off."No... no... no!"I slammed my forehead against the damp wall, cursing my own clumsiness as I bit my lips without a hint of shame.Brick was scorching hot!"Damn it!"Speaking of which, I suddenly recalled that at this hour, the locker room was empty. There were no footsteps,

“Brick! Someone’s coming!” I panicked, shoving at his chest, but he only caught me tighter and drove back into me—harder, deeper, the kind of thrust that stole the air right out of my lungs. I muffled the next helpless sound against his shoulder.“Ignore them,” Brick murmured, voice low and easy, like this was just another practice skate. But hello—I was Jax, undercover, naked, and getting f*cked by the veteran who was supposed to be my mentor.“Holy shit!”The shout snapped my head up. I knew that voice.Rook. The chatty one I hated most, frozen in the doorway with his mouth hanging open.A second low whistle. Tank. Forward. Always smirking like he already knew the punchline.Brick never slowed. If anything his next stroke landed deeper, dragging another broken “ah—” out of me while the two of them stood just outside the open stall, staring at the full picture: me bent under the spray, Brick’s d*ck splitting me open on every thrust, water running down my shaking thighs.Rook’s voice

My body started to shake.The lukewarm water had finally gone cold, and the four of us stood there in the wreckage of what we had just done—dripping, marked, still trying to remember how to breathe. Cum and water mixed on my thighs in thick, glossy trails. Brick’s hand remained braced against the tile beside my head, his chest rising and falling hard against my back. Rook’s eyes were dark and heavy-lidded. Tank simply watched me, steady and unreadable, as if he were waiting to see whether I would shatter or run.“Enough talking,” Brick said, his voice low and rough with authority. He reached for a towel and wrapped it around me first, the motion tight and efficient, before taking one for himself. Rook and Tank moved without needing further instruction, the easy coordination of men who had shared more than just ice time.No one spoke while they dried me.Brick worked the towel through my hair with firm strokes that lef