Hockey Smut Books Novels & Stories

His badge presses cold against my bare chest, the metal biting into my skin with every thrust, and the scratch of his uniform fabric against my inner thighs is rough and textured and adding a layer of sensation that’s making me lose my mind. He fucks me against the bookshelf with a rhythm that’s controlled.Deep, measured strokes that drag the ridge of his cock against my g-spot on every pass. Books topple around us with every thrust — falling from shelves on both sides. The absurdity of being fucked senseless while books rain down around me is so ridiculous that a laugh bubbles up from my chest and turns into a moan halfway out. He drops his mouth back to my neck. Sucks the skin below my ear

Four “So, what’s the genre we’re looking at?” Nico picked up one of the books on the desk and flipped it to the back, reading the short description. “This one seems to be about magical powers and shit. Fantasy?” Theo nodded, taking a sip of his wine. He set down his glass and picked up a book from the pile. “I have romance, crime thrillers and fantasy, here.” He handed him a book. “What do you think about this?”

The gym reeked like straight-up balls and ass by 11 at night. That mix of old sweat soaked into the mats, cheap-ass disinfectant, and whatever funk people left behind after grinding through their workouts. Alex Rivera had been there for hours, smashing sets long after the normal crowd fucked off home. Her black tank top was glued to her body, soaked dark under her tits and down her back. Every squat made her thick thighs burn and her pussy feel heavy and full of blood, lips rubbing together inside her shorts with every rep. She was pissed off, like always, because Jordan fucking Hale was across the room doing the same shit.

My walk of shame pic was truly appalling. "You'll love this one." Brack turned the screen toward me so I had a straight on view of a Twitter post. @smutkisses O Stradmore tennis's darling debutante seen after bathroom tryst with unknown sex god bitly.com/X2_LY8 I almost spit out my coffee. "I'll find @smutkisses and force a tennis ball down her throat for the 'debutante' comment." I clicked on the link and covered my eyes when I saw the picture of me and Brack. He had a bit of lace clearly hanging from his pocket. "Where is that thong?"

*Opening the door, you freeze seeing Stefanie Meijer, Mark's 40-year-old married mom, on the bed with your laptop open, voluptuous figure in a form-fitting designer dress hugging her big breasts and thick thighs, long black hair draped over shoulders, ocean blue eyes scrolling your filthy collection, full pink lips parted in arousal, plump pink cunt soaking through her no-underwear dress as she bites her lip schemingly. "Oh my, Y/N, this nasty hentai filth on your laptop... busty sluts getting pussies pounded by throbbing cocks, cunts squirting cum, asses stuffed with tentacles," *Stefanie purrs sultrily, arrogant smirk widening as she strips naked, fair skin flushing, pink nipples hard on j

The headlines were worse. ‘Hockey star Duke Smith spotted with mystery woman. Is he cheating? My chest tightened. The comments were wild. I shouldn’t have read them. But I did. ‘Who is she? She definitely threw herself at him.’ ‘I want to see her face. Let’s see how she looks.’ ‘No woman comes between Duke and Lisa. They are our power couple ‘She’s probably ugly, that’s why he’s hiding her face’ I couldn’t read anymore. My hands started shaking. My breathing became uneven again.

When I glanced up through my eyelashes, he was sipping his drink while staring at me, the corners of his lips tugging up into a satisfied smile. The scenario continued fifteen minutes later. I was checking supplies in the back hallway when a large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hockey equipment storage room. The door closed with a soft thud. The distinct smell of rubber, dried sweat, and the cold air wafting from the protective padding immediately assaulted my nostrils. Before my eyes could adjust to the darkness, my back was pressed against the wall. Marco's lips instantly captured mine, crushing them with complete dominance. I responded, letting my hands grip the fabric of his

The crunch of blades, the smell of sweat and ice, the thunder of pucks, it was home. But no matter how hard I tried, they crept in. Sabrina and Spicy. Spicy’s laughter, her mask, the way she looked at me, that kiss. And Sabrina, my chest burned at the thought of Simon getting close to her. I didn’t like that shit. Not that I cared enough for her to matter, or at least, that’s what I told myself. But deep down, something in me snapped every time I pictured them together. “Why the hell am I thinking about that low-life Sabrina?” I muttered under my helmet just as the puck struck me.

“No, but now that you mention it, your I*******m game is tragically outdated.” “I’m a hockey player, not a model.” “Still. I should run your account.” “Pretty sure half your selfies are already featuring my sweatshirt, so technically, you are.” She grinned, leaning into my shoulder. And just like that, I didn’t want to tell her anymore. Not because I didn’t trust her. But because I didn't want to burst our current bubble. Still, the paper in my pocket felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric. “Hey,” I said, clearing my throat.

This is when I push her much closer than she already is to me, my hand fastened on her waist. I place my fingers of my other hand below her chin, cupping her jaw slightly. My head gradually closes in on hers. “Just one.” I add, my voice a whisper. My eyes are slightly closed and my lips rest just above hers. “One. . .” She breath, her head pushed forward to lock our mouths together. IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi readers! I want to make an important announcement. I’ve decided to give up on writing smut. I will still write romance books but completely cut out the smut while also writing ml (I am a versatile author).