Sincerely The Puck Bunny Novels & Stories

“Then I’m a bad liar and so are you.” --- The puck bunny appeared at 11:07. She materialized the way puck bunnies always materialized at hockey-house parties—not walking, not approaching, just *arriving*, as if the building had a ventilation system that pumped them in through the ducts when the alcohol level reached a certain threshold. Blonde. Tight black dress that was more suggestion than garment. Heels that made no sense in a basement with a piss pool. Eyes that moved across the room with the practiced efficiency of a scanner looking for the highest-value target.

I bet you look good in it, too. The bass from the party downstairs thumps through the mattress, a slow, steady beat that matches the pulse in my cock. I lie there, alone in the dark, waiting for the next buzz and it comes too quickly. Barnabythebear: Tomorrow at the rink by 8 PM. Come if you want *wink emoji*

I say, and she nods. “Great, and there was me thinking I would be able to watch all of those sexy men doing their warm-ups that look more sexual than they should,’ she says as she winks at me. Mara always liked hockey players, and she has dated some of them, she can be considered a puck bunny. After several more wine glasses and conversations about Fred and Thatcher, we end up falling asleep on the couch, only to be woken by Grace a couple of hours later. “Mommy, I’m going to be late,” she says and I blink several times, trying to process her words.

Derek and the other guys immediately went silent and started grabbing their things. I stared at him for a few minutes, before finally speaking. “What’s up man?” I extended my hand. He looked down at my hand, as if surprised at the gesture, then finally shook me carefully. I laughed a little. “I know I haven’t been on good terms with you lately, but that doesn’t mean we’re enemies now, does it?” He nodded slowly. “No. No. It doesn’t.” I then looked down at the parcel he was holding and spotted a name on the top. Eli Ford. I tried reaching out for it. “Hey man, what’s this?”

“An occasional bunny here, a groupie there, maybe a fan or two in a hot tub … but never hoes.” “Bunny?” I echo. “Puck-bunnies … ” Mel snorts. “Girls who want to fuck professional hockey players. You do know that the black thingy they shoot into the goal is called a puck?” I nod. I’ve learned that from Lee. Recently. “Well, PUCK,” she swings her left hand in a feminine, gay flick so the palm shows up, “BUNNY,” then she does the same thing with her right hand.

“I’m in. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Marcus started strong. “Never have I ever scored on my own goalie during practice.” A couple of rookies drank and laughter followed. Big Mike went next looking directly at Marcus as she spoke. “Never have I ever hooked up with a puck bunny in the arena parking lot.” Half the table drank, including Marcus, who took his shot with pride. It was Raphael's turn next. He leaned back, thinking for a second before smirking. “Never have I ever turned down a threesome.”

“Look, a girl just called out so…let’s see how you look in the clothes and we’ll go from there. Did you…bring anything?” “I’ll just get something from the Matron on credit,” I say with a happy sigh, giving him a wink. “What’s your name, doll?” he murmurs, clicking his pen and raising it to the paper. “B-“ “Bunny,” Frankie snaps out. I look to him in surprise but he gives me a serious nod. I realize quite suddenly that he’s right – that Bambi isn’t precisely a rare name in a strip club, but if someone’s looking for me…

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can bring you back to my packhouse. Keep an eye on you.” I answer too fast. “No, I’m fine.” He arches a brow just slightly, like he’s not buying it. My palm grazes across his cheek and I manage to give him a small smile, “I promise.” The engine hums softly to life. I close my eyes and let the silence finish this night for me. Instead, Adrian talks about work, contractors, and the meetings he expects to run too long tomorrow. He mentions something about Nash nearly taking a defenseman’s at his last game and I remember that Nash gave us tickets for tomorrow’s game.

I hate the way that caused my heart to pang. I thought I was the only one he smiled at like that. I thought I was the only one he looked at affectionately. It is unsettling and hard to watch. It made me hate coming here, and I suddenly wanted to go home. “I got a white bunny, and I named her Snowball! She's so soft and fluffy!” The annoying person said, holding his hands over his chest as he thought of his bunny. His smile suddenly disappears, and he frowns at Walker.

He had been kicked out of his last school for fighting, and now he played for our biggest rival. Derek hated Ryan. Ryan hated Derek. They had been enemies since junior league. "No, no, no," I breathed, watching Derek move toward Ryan like a shark smelling blood. In one swift, brutal move, Derek stole the puck right from Ryan's stick. The crowd gasped. My heart stopped beating. "DEREK STONE HAS THE PUCK!" the announcer roared. "HE'S FLYING DOWN THE ICE LIKE A MAN POSSESSED!" Time slowed down. I watched Derek dance around our defenders like they were standing still. He was fast, graceful, and completely unstoppable.