Novelas y relatos de Pucking

First, he took off his red polo, revealing his chiseled chest, and then he removed his black shorts, leaving himself in only his neatly hugged, sparkling white boxer. He stood in front of me and began to explain the game. "Pudi, as the name implies, means you should take out the first two letters of your inner center," he said looking at me. Then he continued, “And the first two letters of my inner center. Don't say it out loud, just think about it. It will give you a clue about what game we're about to play." I thought about it for a moment, and the realization dawned on me, Pu-di, like pussy and dick. "Alexander, are you always like this?" I asked in amazement.

His thick fingers slide through my wet folds and find my soaked pussy. “Fuck, baby… your pussy is dripping for me,” he groans. “So wet and ready for your Alpha’s cock.” He rubs tight circles on my swollen clit until my legs shake. Whimpers spill from my mouth nonstop. Hunter steps back just enough to shove his hockey pants and boxers down. His thick cock springs free — hard, veiny, and leaking at the tip. My eyes widen. He looks so big. He kisses me softly when he sees my nervous face. “We’ll go slow. Tell me if it hurts.”

“Well, someone's all flared up. I can almost see how the hair on your neck stands out. Makes me start to think your wolf really is weaker. You're definitely not a beta.” “That is none of your business.” “The required rank to join hockey teams in this pack stops at Beta. You're not one. That's really shady. Really really shady.” And then, I heard the sound of the blade scratching the ice and the puck running out of my hold. I let out a grunt before turning around. My eyes stayed pinned on his backview. That bastard. I started skating hurriedly. I had to get back the puck and win. A lot was at risk.

My eyes focused on the game that was going on in front of me. The movement on the ice was smooth and very fast. It was hard to focus on the puck because one minute, you'd think it was on this player's stick, the next, it's on another player's. The second started to count down and the screams continued. Somehow, the goalie of the team was able to kick out the puck before it entered the net. “Yes.” I mumbled to myself. They were leading the rival team by two goals already. They still had thirty seconds left. Liam played into my view and my eyes focused on him as he played with the puck and in a few seconds, he passed it to Ethan and then there was another goal.

Without looking for it. The collision came in the second period, both of us going for a loose puck in the corner. Shoulder to shoulder, then chest to chest, then the barrier stopped us both and we were pressed against it with his hand gripping my jersey and my forearm across his chest and neither of us moving. The play had ended. The whistle had gone. We both knew it and neither of us pulled away. Three seconds or maybe four, Long enough that I became aware of the noise from the crowd changing texture, becoming something specific and pointed. Long enough that his eyes dropped to my mouth for a fraction of a second before coming back up to hold mine..

"Caleb, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Vivienne Cross, the administrative director, shoved her way out of the crowd in a pair of red-bottom stilettos. The evening gown she had custom-ordered for the holiday party looked tight across her chest and waist now, pulled stiff by her anger. "Have you lost your mind?" she snapped. "Mr. Whitlock was just joking. He was keeping the party alive. What the hell are you doing?" She jabbed a finger toward my face, so close she almost touched my nose.

The stick flexed. PING. The heavy rubber puck slammed directly against the intersection of the crossbar and the left post, burying itself into the top corner of the netting. Sliding to a halt, my boots throwing up a small spray of shaved ice, my chest heaved. My lungs burned with absolute fire. The arena was dead silent. Walking slowly back to the bench, I handed the stick back to a wide-eyed Miller. "Jeremiah," I said, my breathing heavy but controlled. "Time?"

POV: KAI The press box smells like musty coffee and old popcorn. I sit in the back row, laptop balanced on my knees, hoodie zipped to my chin. The collar still hides most of the mark, but I feel it every time I swallow. Like a reminder I can't delete. Game starts fast. Puck drops. The crowd roars. I type without looking down much—habit now. The Ice Hawks are up early, but it's not the score I'm watching.

They couldn't hold the puck once it entered our zone. They started rough play, bumping into everyone and trying hard to cause an injury. I knew what was coming. Derek's shoulder brushed against mine as he passed me and whispered, Be careful. I knew that, and I smiled. Violet was watching from the stands, and the last thing I wanted was for her to watch me fall or crumble in a pool of my own blood. like the last time. Marcus and Kingsgrove weren't going to let me off with just a broken rib or a concussion. They were angry, and beasts go for a chunk of meat, not just a bite.

It was impossible. They were hanging over the plexiglass, shaking the boards, and holding up massive, neon poster boards that made my stomach twist into sickening knots. MERCER’S MATTRESS.* *DISTRACTION ON ICE.* And then, the ones that made my throat close up and my eyes burn, the ones scrawled with ugly, jagged letters that spelled out slurs I hadn’t heard since I was a kid in middle school. Every time I touched the puck, a chorus of boos rained down on me, so loud it vibrated right through my helmet and rattled my teeth.