Hockey Player Booktok Novels & Stories

I cry out as I push my ass backward, feeling Ryder pushing his massive cock all the way in me. In response, Ryder uses his free hand to pinch my nipples a little harder, and I part my plump lips in sweet pain. Ryder and I met when I was writing an article about him, the all famous hockey player. He hadn’t wanted to answer any of my questions until after I had gone on at least five dates with him.

I inquired, attempting to revive the banter as the silence was making me feel all too much. "I'm not nervous about the game, Fantine, I'm nervous about how much I hate that this is my life, because I have to spend every day playing a sport I don't even like just to make happy a man who doesn't even love me," he said, and the unvarnished truth in his voice took me completely by surprise. "You don't like hockey? But you are the star player, everyone says you were born to be on the ice," I said, turning in my seat so I could look at him better.

The dominant hockey star had projected a minor wave of internal resistance during the inaugural installation phase, but his processing units had steadily evolved to harbor a deep spiritual connection to those visual coordinates. The exact millisecond the professional ice schedule initiated its seasonal cycle, Val executed a continuous transit path across the external territories alongside Finn and his alpha brother, Lucas. Following a complete calendar cycle of tracking the high-velocity violence of the pack game from the immediate glass perimeter, his creative networks were brimming with a million independent narrative plot variations, culminating in the absolute final structural execution

Carter Blake POV Man, was I spot-on. Hockey? Yeah… this game has me completely hooked. Two weeks in, and I’m officially obsessed. I mean, come on, action, suspense, strategy, chaos, brute strength, skill, and, okay, yes… visual eye candy. It’s the full package.

It’s not my preferred drink, I am more a whisky man or a strong scotch but for Roxy I want to spoil her with the finest champagne. “This is true,” she says tilting her head exposing that long, lean neck of hers. It’s perfectly ready for me to bite her and mark her. I must hold off. Roxy has to be ready for me. She has to be ready to take on the role of the Alpha’s mate and that won’t be an easy task. But I am a patient man. Hockey players are renowned for being patient men. We have to be. All the time on the ice, the practice, the drills, the endless gym sessions, waiting to get the puck. It takes focus, determination, grit and patience above all.

Those photos and videos held evidence, so that must be it. He was so dumb that he didn't even put a lock on it. He definitely was not expecting someone to break into his apartment. He sat on his couch and began to undress, breathing heavily. Does he by any chance have asthma too? If he does, this would definitely be fun. He had not noticed me yet and I was sitting in his dining area, in the open. He's just plain stupid and ugly as fuck. “That bastard hockey player made me lose tonight. I'm going to fucking kill him.” He slurred out as it took much energy to take off his shoes.

I hurried upstairs with the picture of Jaxon in pains on the ice in my head. I pressed my lips together, pacing his room like a restless ghost. Get it together, Hazel. I grabbed my laptop. I knew that if Jaxon trusted me with this secret, it means that I have help him out. So I went to work, I searched relentlessly for sports injuries, shoulder strains, unhealed injuries in hockey players and recovery timelines. I clicked through articles, medical forums, watching videos from physical therapists and athletes who’d been through similar injuries. I took notes, a few screenshots, bookmarked some pages —ice therapy, exercises and several other remedies.

I watched him walk over to his desk, noticed the way his shirt was still twisted from my hands, the way his hair stuck up in places where I'd run my fingers through it, and something in my chest swelled with the knowledge that I'd done that to him. He pulled open the bottom drawer and came back with a bag of chips and some candy bars, and when he climbed back onto the bed the mattress dipped under his weight and I found myself gravitating toward him without thinking. "This is your idea of good snacks?" I asked as he offered me the bag of chips. "What's wrong with chips and chocolate?" "Nothing I guess," I took the bag and our fingers brushed and even that small contact sent a little spark th

“This is just my equipment room.” “Just?” I walked closer to the stuff. I don't want to film with my phone. I'd rather use my camera which I didn't come with. So next time. I typed into my notepad again: He got a spot dedicated to his hockey materials. Extremely organized and neat. I smiled, staring at the photograph. I noticed a book shelf. They're not books related to hockey. “Wait, so you read?” “Yeah. I read novels and books when I'm tired of scrolling.”

Liam challenged, refusing to take a single step back even as Jaxson’s heavy chest pressed against his shoulder. "It's a promise," Jaxson whispered, his eyes dropping to Liam’s parted lips for a fraction of a second before hardening. He turned to his team. "Boys! Let's show the coach what happens when a tourist gets in our way. Line drill. Full speed. Don't avoid the obstacle." The "obstacle" was Liam. Before Coach Miller could even yell to stop them, five massive hockey players lined up at the opposite end of the rink. Jaxson blew his whistle, and the first player—a 220-pound defenseman—charged straight down the ice, accelerating directly toward Liam like a runaway semi-truck.