Hockey Romance Novels & Stories

Fucking The Sexy Hockey Stars(Threesome Rh/Why Choose) "I watched them kiss for the first time from across the locker room," she told me once, smirking into her wine glass. "Two grown men, all muscle and bruises and hockey callouses, kissing like they'd been starving for it. And I thought—yeah. I want to watch that. I want to be the reason they do it. And I want them both on their knees afterward, thanking me for it." She paused, swirling her drink. "And they were." Welcome to Portland. Welcome to the Predators. Welcome to the filthiest why choose you've ever read. Get comfortable. It's about to get very, very filthy.

“One bonfire. One night. If you hate it, I’ll personally drive you back to the rink and let you throw pucks at me for revenge.” I bit my lip to keep from smiling too big. “Tempting. But only if you promise no more winking. It’s weaponized.” “No promises,” he said, eyes sparkling. “But deal on the rest.” We walked back to his truck under a sky full of stars that looked sharper up here, no city lights to dull them. He opened my door again—gentleman hockey player, apparently—and when I slid in, our hands brushed. Just for a second. Electricity. The kind you read about in the books I swore I only read for the dragons.

I am still the captain of this ice. Two more rogues jumped onto the ice, their faces twisting into furious snarls. They did not like being embarrassed by a human. They charged at Holden at the same time, running fast across the wet surface. Holden did not freeze up. He used his sports training, shifting his weight and spinning to the left just as the first rogue lunged. The monster flew past him, sliding uselessly into the boards. Before the second rogue could grab him, Holden brought the hockey stick down hard, slamming the thick wooden blade right into the rogue’s knee.

As soon as my classes were over, I stomped over to the arena and sought out Ace on the ice. I walked on and slowly made my way closer so he could hear me. “Ace Huxley!” I screamed. He spun around and almost fell on his ass when he heard me. “Isla!” His face lit up as he took his helmet off and skated over, but it quickly fell when he saw how pissed off I was. “What happened?” “Have you been going around telling people we’re sleeping together?”

she hisses. But ignoring Cassandra is impossible. Every flick of her hair, every hand on Ethan’s shoulder it’s all a reminder: she’s the queen now, and I’m the ghost of last season. Later, I’m digging through my locker when a shadow falls over me. “Careful, Hart. People might start thinking you care about hockey again.” I slam the locker shut, finding Jax leaning casually against the one beside it. That damn smirk is back, scar catching the light. “What do you want?” I snap.

Expect: ❄️ hockey rivalry 🐺 possessive alpha energy 🖤 forced proximity ❄️ locker room tension 🐺 secrets that can ruin everything 🖤 emotional damage ❄️ hate that slowly turns into something much more dangerous 🌶️Spicy smut Noel thought hiding the truth would keep him safe. He was wrong. please note, it's a slow burn romance but I promise it will worth your time and of course good smut🌶️🌶️🌶️ Leave a comment if you're ready to get marked on ice🧊

When the food came, it was incredible—avocado toast with poached eggs, fresh fruit, and some kind of pastry that melted in my mouth. "So," Paloma said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Tell me about yourself. What's it like dating a famous hockey player? Is it as glamorous as everyone thinks?" I laughed, almost choking on my coffee. "Glamorous? Not exactly. More like chaotic and complicated and occasionally terrifying." "Terrifying?" she asked, leaning forward with interest. "The attention," I explained. "The cameras. The fans. Everyone having opinions about your relationship. It's a lot."

“Walk in late, act like you own the place, then disappear when real responsibility is mentioned.” I glanced at him. “I didn’t disappear,” I told him calmly. “I left to pursue my dream.” “That’s the same thing!” Adrian shot back. Our mother raised her hand slightly. “Please—can we not start like this?” But no one listened. My father began. “You think hockey is a career worth building an empire on?” My jaw tightened. “It already is.” A cold laugh from Adrian. “Sports?” he said. “You’re betting your entire life on sports?”

It matters more than anything. Finally, Ryder speaks. "Yeah," he says, and his voice is rough, reluctant, like every word is being dragged out of him. "We're dating." The relief that floods through me is so intense I almost collapse. My father blinks. "You're serious." "Dead serious." "You're telling me my daughter, my reckless, irresponsible, party-obsessed daughter, is in a relationship with the captain of the Westfield hockey team." "That's what I said." "And you didn't think to mention this to anyone?"

I started to walk away. “You know the thing about hockey players… or athletes in general?” She said and I stopped to listen. “They don’t date. If they take the sport seriously then they won’t have time for commitments. That’s why puck bunnies last longer than girlfriends. Less pressure and we’re more fun in bed." Then she stubbed out her cig on the banister, leaving a small scorch mark on the wood. She turned around and went back to what I assume is Devon’s room.