Puck Up Lines Novels & Stories

I walked in and saw him. Riven was on the ice, alone, stick in hand, angrily shooting pucks. Most of them missed. He looked exhausted, furious, and completely broken. “Fuck!” he yelled, kicking the puck away in frustration. I stepped onto the ice, my voice soft. “Was that ‘fuck’ or ‘puck’?” Riven spun around, eyes widening when he saw me. “No pun intended,” I winked. “How do you know I would be here? What are you even doing here?”

“Beg for it.” I rubbed her clit with the pad of my finger, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. I groaned as I felt her pussy clenching around my dick, pushing me toward my own release. “Hope you’re on birth control, Princess,” I panted out, sweat just beginning to gather on my back and along my hairline. “Because this cunt is about to be pumped full of my cum.” My digit worked her clit faster and harder, and she was teetering on the edge.

Coach barked after I missed a clean pass. I didn’t answer. “Eyes up!” he snapped. I skated back into position, jaw tight, chest burning with irritation that had nowhere to go. Lyon skated up beside me during a water break, nudging my shoulder with his glove. “You good, man?” “Fine.” “That’s your third ‘fine’ today.” I shot him a look. “Drop it.” He raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just don’t bite my head off.”

He dialed repeatedly, but each attempt met the same automated voice: "The subscriber you have reached is powered off." His bravado crumbled, and he spat, "Just you wait!" He scooped up his shoes and bolted for the exit. The staff members shrugged and returned to their routines. The manager bit his tongue, looking troubled. Reading his mind, I reached for my phone and called Imogen, but her phone was switched off. One instance might be a coincidence. Two identical failures formed a pattern. I clenched my fists until the muscles ached. A slow chill spread through me.

Phrases leapt at her, each one a hairline crack across her composure: untraceable packets … dummy trails … decoy nodes. She set the sheet down, fingers tightening ever so slightly on the edge. “Explain.” The contractor across from her; a man whose suit was too sharp for someone who crawled in shadows, shifted in his chair. “It looked genuine at first. High-value contracts, ripe for intercept. But the deeper we went, the more the lines unraveled. Whoever set this up… knew exactly how to bait a professional. It’s almost like they wanted us to chase it.” Her smile was soft, deliberate, and it froze him in place. “Almost?”

The file is spread across the desk. Papers everywhere. Hospital records. Adoption documents. Bank statements. Photographs. Evidence of a crime that stole three years of our lives. Evidence of a conspiracy that almost destroyed us. Evidence of a lie that changed everything. Evidence of a truth that's been waiting to be uncovered. Evidence of a wound that's been waiting to heal. Evidence of a justice that's been waiting to be served. Evidence of a reckoning that's been waiting to come.

When the call connected, I said, "Thanks for helping my boyfriend out. He wants to get you a bag, and the budget's around 20,000 dollars… Do you have a preference? Or would you like me to just send you the money?" There was a brief silence. Then, I heard a man's voice coming through the phone, asking, "Is this… Cassandra? Why is your boyfriend getting Erin a gift?" Oh, crap. Erin and Eric had such similar names that I'd accidentally ended up calling him instead of her. Eric, Erin, and I all attended the same school. He had been a year ahead of us, and we'd occasionally run into each other during club activities. I'd praised him for being considerate just once, and Erin immediately started pu

I was unconscious all night, and when I woke up, my stomach was still in pain. I grabbed a handful of painkillers from the nightstand and swallowed more than a dozen pills. My phone was full of messages from Zach. "I called you so many times, and you didn't pick up. I figured you were sleeping. It's fine, you can come over after you wake up. I'll go greet the guests in the ballroom first." That was when I remembered that today was our engagement party. Friends and relatives from both sides would be there.

I wanted to tell him no, but instead I said, “It doesn’t matter if I do. The point is, I was in a vulnerable position, and you were obviously not thinking straight with the whole mate thing so I—” “I don’t regret it,” he cut in, his voice holding a certainty of unshakable truth, “But if me pretending like I don’t know what you taste like” His voice dipped to a delicious timbre, “or how you sound when you come on my tongue.” He took a step forward, closing the distance until barely four inches separated us. His piercing blue eyes slowly traced down my frame before drifting back up again. “If me pretending like I don’t know how pink your cheeks get when you’re flustered, much like right now, i

Not after everything I'd built with him, the trust, the dependency, all of it collapsing the second he decided I was disposable to him too. I needed to stay in control of this. I needed to not react to his terms and set my own instead. I typed again, slower this time. Me: Fine. It’s a public location. On my terms though. Pier 14, north end, tomorrow night, 11pm. Come alone. I stared at it for a long moment before hitting send, my heart was hammering harder than it had any right to over three lines of text. The dots appeared almost immediately on his end.