PUCK BUNNY

(Puck Bunny Series #1)

Erotic Romance

By Violette Paradis

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© 2014 Violette Paradis

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and characters are a product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places, or people is entirely coincidental.

“Yes!” I yelled at the TV. Parnell passed the puck to Brovski, who scored a goal to tie up the game. I followed the play while preparing for my date. The clock ticked down in the second period and I had two minutes to get ready if I wanted to get to the bar in time for the third.

I pulled on a black mini-skirt, rolled on black lace thigh-high stockings, and stepped into round-toed high-heels. I pulled a team shirt over my black lace bra.

I wore Brovski’s shirt since he was playing. His name was written across my back and there was a large ‘C’ for ‘Captain’ over my left breast. I bought the shirt at a sports store and altered it. Keeping the logo intact, I cut the collar low in the front to reveal some cleavage, and cropped the bottom revealing a hint of skin.

After picking out the perfect red lace thong to go with my outfit (it was a team color), I placed it back in the drawer, opting to go nude under my skirt. The thong only got in the way.

The clock counted down the last seconds of the game. Hurrying, I worked vanilla scented mousse into my hair ensuring I looked and felt like a sex goddess.

My phone vibrated and I grabbed my purse, fishing out my phone.

Please don’t cancel on me, please don’t cancel on me.

This was my first night off in months. I interned at HSN, Hockey Sports News, so I spent evenings watching games and days blogging about them. I squeezed workouts into whatever free time I had. Dating was at the bottom of my to-do list.

A devoted reader of my blog sent me a message asking me out on a date. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a Panthers fan. I told him I wouldn’t hold that against him as long as later he’d hold himself against me.

Brad - my date - agreed to meet at a sports bar to watch the end of the game. One hockey-less night and I’d be out of the loop.

My phone vibrated again in my hands, sending a shiver through my body, but when I looked at the screen I didn’t see Brad’s name. It was my boss from HSN.

Why is he sending me a text?

A hot annoyance grew within me. When will I have the free time to go on another date?

I read the text.

>How close are you to the arena?

The arena? The hockey arena? The arena where the teams were playing right now? My annoyance was replaced by curiosity and excitement. My heart beat hard in my chest.

I texted back.

>About fifteen minutes. Why?

I received a response almost instantly.

>Post-game interviews. Sebastian’s sick. Can you do it? Please?

Me? Meeting and interviewing actual players? I sent a quick and enthusiastic text back as I bounced from foot to foot, performing a dance in front of the TV.

Brovski was on screen, being interviewed after the second period. I kissed the glass of the TV screen, planting my lips right on Brovski’s cheek. Being face to face with professional hockey players tingled me more than going on a date with that Panthers fan did, whatever his name was.

***

Without having time to change my outfit, I headed to the arena. The third period already started and I listened to the game on the radio on the way there. Brovski was leading his team to a win.

At the arena, I entered by the media entrance where I obtained my locker pass. My locker pass. I was getting paid to go into the men’s locker room! I couldn’t believe it!

The game finished and I stood in the cold hallway outside the locker room with six other reporters. Four held smart phones while the others held professional cameras. They were all older men dressed in cheap suits. Some raised their eyebrows at my unusual attire.

The arena’s cool air kissed my skin and traveled up my legs and under my skirt, tingling my bare skin. My muscles tightened and goose bumps prickled my thighs.

I trembled, becoming aware of how naked I was under my skirt.

Why didn’t I put on some damn panties?

The frozen air traveled up my cropped shirt and past my navel. I pulled the material down to cover my bellybutton, but doing so pulled my collar down, exposing my firm cleavage. My nipples hardened.

Two reporters looked at me. I crossed my arms over my breasts in an attempt to warm up.

I diverted my thoughts from the cold to the spectacle I was about to witness. I was about to go into the locker room.

A familiar feeling rose up in me. I spent my life watching strong hockey players, each in peak physical condition, facing off, bumping against each other, and hugging after scoring. I couldn’t help feeling tingly all over. This was a team of guys I knew well, and soon I would see them in the flesh.

My thighs warmed.

Stepping back, I pressed my body against the frozen concrete wall. The cold diverted my thoughts from my sensual daydream.

The wall shook against my body, vibrating through my bones as thousands of rowdy fans emptied the stands and rumbled the building. The reporters mumbled louder and the photographers positioned themselves along the wall, preparing to get some shots of the players.

The players were coming.

I pushed off the wall so that I’d be alert. I shifted from one foot to the other, hoping to dissuade the cold and nervousness as I waited in anticipation for the players to arrive.

The reporters all looked at the corner where the players would appear. First, I heard the shuffling of skates on concrete. Then, I heard the sound of rowdy celebrating.

The first player came into view. It was Stamos, the long-haired defense-man. His large body - larger than I expected - dripped with sweat. He glanced up then quickly back down, passing us and disappearing into the locker room.

Another player rounded the corner. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Erics - the dark blond, blue-eyed assistant captain. I always thought he was hot, but he was much hotter in person.

Parnell turned the corner. Then Darby. And Barbariano! Their skates added an extra foot to their height, making each player tower over the rest of us. More sweaty bodies filled the hot, stuffy hallway, which seemed spacious moments ago.

I took in a deep breath and fresh, salty sweat overtook my senses. It had been a while since I smelled a man work up a sweat. And not just from the gym.

Oh my god! What was wrong with me?

I banished the dirty thoughts from my subconscious, concentrating on breathing shallowly, but that only made my heart beat faster.

“How about that third goal, Darbs?” Barbariano smiled wide.

Darby whistled. “What a beauty.”

“And our power play, boys - just like we practiced!” Erics said, widening his bright, blue eyes.

The guys cheered and hollered, full of adrenaline, pumped from the victory. Their energy sped my heartbeat.

“Nice assist, Erics!” I shouted out. I couldn’t help it - they played so well, and Erics really needed that point. I was just as excited about the win as they were! Erics shot me a quick, shy smile.

Holy shit!

My heart fluttered. I smiled wider. My chest swelled and I lifted my chin, proud that we all wore the same logo over our chests.

Their heads were still in the game and besides the quick glance from Stamos and Erics, none of the other players acknowledged the existence of any of the reporters, including me.

Sigh.

At least I would interview them soon! In the locker room.

The reminder sent a hot chill through my body.

The players filed into the locker room. The last player - a smaller guy named Griggs - rounded the corner, bringing up the rear and disappearing into the locker room. The door slammed shut.

With an empty feeling, I looked up at the television on the opposite wall which broadcast the post-game. Brovski skated around the ice, celebrating after the network named him the first star for scoring two goals, including the game-winner. Holding his helmet in one arm, he flicked back his long, dark hair. Gliding around the rink, he waved at fans and tossed pucks over the glass. Once he ran out of pucks to give out, Brovski skated another lap, pushing off the hard ice with his strong thighs, picking up speed as he glided across the rink. He smiled, showcasing his strong jaw and day-old stubble. Approaching the bench, he slid off the ice and disappeared.

I looked down from the television and sighed. I was about to open the hockey app on my phone when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. A bright color appeared down the hallway.

My heart rate doubled. I looked up from under my eyelashes, even though I already knew who it was.

There he was - Brovski.

If I thought the other players were big, Brovski was a giant. Brovski’s wide shoulders and large stature nearly blocked out the hallway's light. He held his helmet in one hand and his stick in the other.

As he approached the locker room, he grew larger until he was directly in front of me. Under the brilliant light, he was on full display - his bright jersey, his unruly hair, his dark eyes. I looked up at him from under my lashes and his dark eyes locked with mine, lingering for more than just a second, smouldering as he stared at me.

My knees weakened.

Brovski was looking at me! I let out a shriek.

I smiled at him, trying not to look nervous. As I smiled I realized I had been biting my lip the whole time. Fuck! I let go of my lip and gave Brovski a small wave, hoping to rectify the situation

He smirked at me, running his hand through his drenched, unruly hair.

Oh my god!

My knees were now in danger of buckling underneath me.

Brovski pulled his eyes from me, peeling off and disappearing into the locker room with his team. I had just enough time to see Brovski’s plump behind disappear into the room before the door slammed shut.

My heart beat hard in my chest and my blood flamed, chasing away my goose bumps.

Holy shit! Did that happen?

I took a few slow breaths to calm myself.

The reporters and I waited out in the hallway as the coach and the captain gave a private post-game speech to the players in the locker room. This usually involved telling them what they did well and what they could do better. Oh, I wished I could be in the locker room with them!

In the locker room with them.

The words danced in my mind. I had dreamed endlessly about being in the locker room with the team - and now it was happening. My cheeks flamed.

Time passed by agonizingly slow. Seconds felt like minutes as I waited to be let into the locker room. I was left wondering what to say or do once I was inside. How often were women allowed into the locker room? What was it like in there?

With a loud bang, the locker room door swung open and the reporters rushed inside leaving me alone out in the hallway. Taking a few steps, I was at the entrance of the room.

The intoxicating, hot smell of salty sweat filled my nostrils each time I inhaled. My eyes widened, drinking up as much of the scene as I could. The team of fit, muscular hockey players were all in various states of undress. I felt like I’d been thirsty for years and I just jumped into a refreshing pool of water.

Stacey! Concentrate!

The sound of Brovski’s heavy Russian accent snapped me from my reverie. He wasn’t hard to spot. He stood a head taller than everyone and his broad shoulders were wider than anyone else’s. The reporters crowded around him. I took my place with them so that I stood no more than four feet away from Brovski. He was so close that I could see the beads of sweat rolling down his olive-toned skin.

Holy fuck was he gorgeous.

Brovski pulled off his jersey and was now in his under-armour - black plastic shoulder pads and chest plates covering his muscles.

He had a rough exterior - he was large and strong, and had taken a few punches and skates to the face. There was a certain boyish charm in his chipped tooth and broken nose. It meant he liked to play rough, which was exactly what I liked.

This was a guy I could do things to.

The slit between my legs tingled and warmed.

Not now, Stacey!

Pulling back to reality, I fumbled out my phone and hit the microphone app, pushing my arm out close to Brovski so I could record everything he said. As I pushed my phone out in front of him, he looked in my direction. I gasped.

Brovski smirked while he spoke, keeping his eyes on me, and only me. The athlete who everyone else was looking at looked at me, and he wouldn’t pull his eyes away.

I strained to focus on Brovski’s answer to a question about trade deadlines, but it was impossible to pay attention. His unwavering gaze hypnotized me and held me in place, daring me to look away. But how could I? He was beautiful, and everything else was static in the background. I had seen him many times before, but only on TV and in pictures, and from all the way up in the nosebleed section of a hockey game. Seeing him now - in person - was different. He was insanely hot - he always was, but this was different. This was real.

I could touch him if I wanted.

I stared at Brovski’s chiselled lips as he spoke, answering questions in his heavy Russian accent. Everything about him - the tan skin, his chiselled jaw, his dark stubble, his dark, piercing eyes, - everything was perfect. My heart drummed in my chest.

Focus!

My hands were sweating and my phone slipped from my grip. I lunged forward and grasped it moments before it hit the floor.

My cheeks flamed and I looked up.

Brovski was still looking at me, but he had stopped speaking. The reporters shot annoyed glances at me for interrupting the interview.

“Sorry,” I squeaked. I pulled my phone close to my chest and shrunk behind the reporters, hoping to disappear from Brovski and everyone else.

Not cool, Stacey! How are they ever going to take you seriously? Brovski was a professional - a professional. He was used to being treated as such. Why is this so hard for you?

“Good reflex,” a deep Russian voice said.

My heart pounded in my chest. Peeking up over the crowd of reporters, I saw Brovski - intense, confident, sexy - still staring directly at me. There was a faint smile on his lips.

“I want to hear question from you.”

The reporters followed Brovski’s gaze and looked at me again before mumbling to each other disagreeably. My heart jumped.

“I -”

Time ticked away as I searched for something to say. Stringing words together was hard when the world’s greatest athlete stood only two feet away, half-undressed, sweating, and undressing me with his eyes. With the direct acknowledgment from Brovski, the naked guys surrounding me, and the smell of salty air, my head was dizzy. The threat of passing out made me hurry to answer.

You’re incredibly hot. The words danced on the tip of my tongue and it took everything I had to suppress the thought from my consciousness. Brovski continued staring at me with his smouldering stare and amused smile.

“How do you handle your stick so well?” I blurted. The reporters laughed and my cheeks burned hot.

Fuck, I was an idiot!

Quick to recover, I thought of what Erics said in the hallway about practice and warming up.

“I mean - what’s your physical routine? I mean - what’s your practice routine?”

One reporter audibly rejected my question and asked one of his own, but Brovski held a hand up, striking the reporter silent.

FUCK! Think, Stacey!

I was ready to burn up into flames. My eyes flashed up at Brovski, seeing that he was still staring at me with unrelenting intensity. Brovski pushed the interrupting reporter aside and took a step forward, so that he stood directly in front of me. He moved his face next to mine. Despite the sweat and testosterone hanging in the air, I feared that Brovski could smell the wetness slipping out between my legs.

Before I had a chance to say something I’d regret, Brovski’s mouth hovered by my ear and whispered in his thick Russian accent, “I practice.”

His breath was hot against my skin. My breath hitched. Images of a sweaty Brovski working out his large, buff body popped into my mind. I bit my lip.

Can I practice with you?

His hot breath warmed my skin again. “Stay later,” he whispered, “I show you.”

He pulled back an inch so that I was face to face with him. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk. I squeaked.

Brovski stepped back and was surrounded by reporters again. His eyes peered into mine one last time before he pulled away and was back in game mode, answering another question.

The area between my legs got wetter. Had that just happened? Did Brovski just invite me to stay for a private post-game interview? I stumbled on my heel.

I crossed my legs hoping to abate the throbbing down there, but the pressure only made me pulse harder.

Stop it, Stacey - you’re a professional!

I did my best to keep myself composed, but I couldn’t concentrate on any further questioning. I let the phone in my quivering hand do all the work while my head swam. Endorphins and adrenaline surged through my body.

Before I knew it, the post-game interview was over and the reporters shuffled out of the room. I stood frozen in place, waiting for Brovski to look at me or say something.

Instead of giving me the post-game interview he promised me, Brovski ignored my presence altogether.

Brovski undressed himself, stripping off the rest of his padding and dropping it to the floor so that he wore nothing but black boxer briefs. Brovski stood under the light, showing off his muscled and toned physique.

I stared at his body in a trance.

Everything about him was perfect.

He had an athlete’s body. His large pecs culminated in small, dark, pointed nipples which twitched as he flexed them. Sweat beaded down his tight, toned body, down his abs and the V pointing down to the bulge in his boxer briefs underwear. The piece of black material barely contained Brovski’s monster bulge.

Delicious. My mouth watered.

Stop it, Stacey!

I tried thinking up something clever to say to break the ice, but it wasn’t necessary. Brovski stuck his thumbs into his waistband, pulling the elastic slightly off his skin. A shiny bead of sweat raced down his navel, disappearing behind his boxers.

I bit my lip.

Holy shit!

Brovski laughed in amusement as he watched me admire him. His abs flexed as he laughed, causing his bulge to pulse with them.

My face flushed.

“Thank you,” I mumbled. My eyes were still transfixed on his bulge. “Thank you for letting me interview you away from everyone else.”

“No problem.” There was that thick Russian accent again.

I looked up, locking eyes with him. His scorching eyes burned into mine. I forgot to breathe. I couldn’t think. My brain couldn’t bail me out if it tried. I stood as frozen as the ice in the rink.

Brovski took a small step towards me.

Don’t look down.

His dark eyes looked at me like he was hungry, and I was something delicious to eat. I struggled to keep my eyes on his and away from his amazing body. In one swift action, Brovski pulled down his underwear and he sprung out of his boxer-briefs. My eyes ripped away from his to look at him in his full glory.

Blood rushed to my head and down my thighs. I held myself up against a locker so I wouldn’t fall over. My mouth hung open and I was probably drooling too.

The man was perfect.

He was proportional to his body (to say the least). As I admired the girth between his strong, muscular skater’s thighs, he stiffened. The large green veins running along his shaft pulsed.

“You’re naked.” The weak words escaped my lips. I was never nervous or speechless around guys, especially naked ones, but hockey players had always been my weakness, and Brovski was quite the hockey player.

“This is locker room.” Brovski’s defined legs stepped towards me. Brovski and I were eye to eye now. He placed one arm by my head, resting himself on the locker and leaning over me. The heat from his body radiated onto mine, causing droplets of sweat to form on my skin. His salty musk filled my nostrils and lungs. His erection poked into my hip.

Holy shit! Is this really happening?

He leaned his face in closer. “You don’t wear underwear, I don’t wear underwear.” His mouth twitched up into a devilish smirk.

How did he know I wasn’t wearing underwear?

My cheeks burned. The hot area between my legs pulsed and my thighs slipped against each other. His erection poked more pressure into my hip.

“But - what about the others?” I looked out to the rest of the locker room. I could still hear the showers running and steam poured out from the corner of the room, fogging my vision.

Brovski smiled wider. He moved close to my ear.

“I am Captain.” Brovski breathed hot and heavy in my ear, his soft lips grazed my skin. “I make rules.”

Brovski lifted his other hand up to the ‘C’ - his ‘C’ - on my shirt above my breast. He traced his strong finger along it.

“You like me?” A wild glint shined in his dark eyes.

A feeling of dread poured through my body. My whole getup screamed ‘fangirl’ - my exposed midriff, short skirt, sexed up hair, glistening cleavage, and my horny disposition. It didn’t help that I had Brovski’s name and number on my back.

I gulped. “Any hockey fan would be crazy not to like you.” I tried my best not to sound like I was freaking out inside. What I really wanted to say was, Yes, I like you! I love you! Please, take me now!

He smirked. Holding my gaze, he traced his finger along the collar of my shirt, grazing the skin of my breasts. Moving down, he touched my shirt which was damp with sweat.

“You are hot,” he said. He tugged my shirt down, allowing my nipples to poke out. A satisfied moan escaped his throat and his gaze lingered on my breasts. A smirk danced on his lips. He traced his finger over one hard nipple, circling it slowly and softly. The sensation lit up every sensitive nerve I had and the feeling shot all the way down there.

Moving his finger across my cleavage, he circled my other nipple, echoing the sensation on the other side of my body. His eyes drank me in and he licked his lips. My mouth watered.

Yes.

His finger traveled down my stomach, touching the bottom edge of my shirt, lightly brushing my skin. A shiver ran down my spine.

His hot, strong leg pressed against my trembling thigh.

Oh god, he’s going to feel how wet I am!

His dark, intense eyes held mine. My lips were no more than an inch away from his. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart and our heavy breathing.

His fingers tickled along the sensitive skin of my hipbone and found my thigh. His fingertips traced the edge of my stocking garter, prickling my skin. He grabbed the garter and pulled it down. The bare skin of my leg felt relief as the stocking material peeled off, exposing my skin to the steamy air.

He traced his strong fingers down my thigh and knee. Every sensitive touch of his set my nerves on fire. His fingers explored my inner thighs until he reached the wetness between my legs. An area deep inside me clenched deliciously.

Brovski leaned in close again.

“You like?” He asked in a hot, sticky whisper. My body was so sensitive that I squirmed under him. He smirked every time my breath hitched.

“Yes.” It was more a moan than a word. Yes I like.

Brovski’s large, strong hand grabbed my leg, sending a pulse through my body.

“I show you how to practice. First,” he lifted my thigh up, lifting my knee to the locker, “stretch.”

I felt the stretch in my thigh.

Thank goodness for yoga.

My skirt hiked up, exposing me to the room’s hot air. While pinning my leg against the locker, Brovski took a small step back and admired my flexibility.

“Stretching - is good for body.” His eyes traveled down my thighs appreciating what he saw.

He could see everything.

Brovski deepened the stretch, sending a wild sensation down my thigh and between my legs.

Biting my lip, I threw my head back and squeezed my eyes shut. His erection grew larger, poking me in my upper thigh. I was hot and wet.

Take me now, already!

Instead, Brovski eased my leg back to the ground and grabbed the other one.

“Other side,” he smiled. Keeping the stocking on this time, Brovski lifted my other thigh, so that my knee was bent up against the locker. The lips between my thighs rubbed against each other during the transition, giving me the hot sensation I wanted more of.

While using one strong hand to hold my leg up, Brovski used his other hand to explore the inside of my thigh. His fingers danced along me, exploring me, but never with too much pressure. Brovski’s fingers lightly tickled the edges of my sensitive lips, slowly peeling them apart, sending hot shivers throughout my body.

With a slow and steady pressure, his fingers moved up and down my sex, ensuring I was deliciously wet everywhere.

Brovski leaned in closer to me. His stiff erection poked more pressure into my thigh. “Very important to warm up,” he whispered.

His thumb found my clitoris and massaged in a circular motion around it. The rest of his fingers tickled my entrance. I threw my head back against the locker as nerves fired through my body. Everything else in the locker room was static in the background as I slipped deeper and deeper into sensual agony. I arched my back, pressing myself into his hand.

Deep down I ached for Brovski to touch that one delicious sensitive spot - the spot that throbbed harder and deeper with every touch, but out of some cruel punishment, Brovski made sure not to touch it.

“More,” I begged. I ached to have Brovski inside me. His dark eyes watched me intently, noting every twitch and moan. He did this to tease me, easing his touch each time I gasped and begged.

Please.

“Not yet.” His hot breath prickled my neck as he whispered. He massaged me faster now. I squirmed under his touch, but his strength held me against the locker so that I couldn’t move. I closed my eyes and moaned, grabbing at the locker. I whimpered.

He removed his hand from between my legs and grabbed a condom from a nearby locker, slipping it on with one hand.

I took the opportunity to look around the locker room. I could see dark figures.

Was that - Erics? And Stamos?

Someone spoke.

Holy crap! Other players were in the locker room!

Whoever it was must have made a joke because someone else laughed. The thrill of having other players watch excited me. My vision blurred in and out as Brovski whispered into my ear.

“After warm-up,” Brovski breathed, “time for workout.”

He grabbed my hips and pulled me off the ground, wrapping my legs tightly around him. I was tiny compared to him!

We were now body to body and face to face. Brovski and I breathed heavily. The pupils in his eyes dilated and he licked his pink, wet lips. My feet grazed the hard muscles of Brovski’s muscular glutes. My skirt was now hiked up around my waist. Brovski’s large hands each held one cheek, holding me in place. He rocked his hips forward, poking me between the legs, pushing his erection against me, spreading my lips apart. A pang of heat shot through my thighs, tightening my muscles deep inside.

The length of his thick, wet shaft slipped between my thighs. Finally his large girth poked my entrance. For a second, I feared he was so thick he wouldn’t fit, but as he poked into me he stretched me open, sliding an inch inside. I moaned in relief. Heat radiated out from him, heating me from the inside. My muscles throbbed and my every nerve pulsed in pleasurable agony as I ached to pull him in deeper.

He moved slowly and purposefully until I was moaning, begging, hungry to have him push deeper inside and satisfy me. My insides clenched.

Please.

When I thought he would give me what I wanted, Brovski pulled out, lingering the tip of his head at my entrance. My deep delicious muscles throbbed harder. His teasing had me on the verge of coming.

Please. I moaned.

My thighs quivered. My muscles flexed as I tried rocking my hips to push Brovski deeper inside me, but his strong hands held me securely in place. He made sure I felt nothing more than slight pressure on my sensitive, throbbing skin. Looking deep into my eyes, Brovski smiled with cocky confidence.

“Who is greatest hockey player?” He asked, emphasizing each word. I felt his hot breath on my lips. My head swam with hormones. Sweat poured down my temple.

“Bro-” My voice creaked as he pushed the slightest touch into me. I threw my head back as pleasure over took my body. “Brovski! Brovski is the greatest hockey player - Brovski! Brovski!” My voice echoed off the locker room walls. I yelped out in pleasure as Brovski’s girth pushed into me, sliding all the way inside, filling me.

A sense of relief spread through my body and my trembling thighs. I wrapped my legs tighter around Brovski, sealing myself at the base of his cock. I clenched my muscles, gripping his girth tighter, pulling him in deeper.

After resting inside me for a moment, Brovski pulled out. I clenched my muscles, squeezing him tight as did. This left everything inside me hot. I moaned. Brovski pushed into me again, digging his fingers into the skin of my ass, gripping me tighter.

Brovski lifted me up and down his wet shaft, moving slow and hot, so that I could feel him stretching me as he entered me. The friction of rubbing against each other spread heat throughout my body. My muscles trembled in fiery agony.

Faster.

Brovski pushed his hot body up against mine. With my shirt still on, I worked up a sweat. Our wet bodies slipped against each other. Holding my legs tighter around him, Brovski pinned me up against the locker. The metal cooled my exposed skin.

Brovski pushed his mouth onto mine, sucking on my lower lip. I jutted my tongue into his mouth, and our tongues wrestled. Brovski moaned with pleasure, sending vibrations reverberating through my jaw. He put his hand under my slippery thigh and lifted it up against the locker, stretching it like he did earlier. Brovski rocked his hips, poking deeper inside me.

He pumped faster. Harder.

Brovski closed his eyes and threw his head back. I felt the strength of his body against mine. He had full physical control over his muscles and breathing. Our bodies waved against each other as we got deeper. Closer.

I licked Brovski’s salty neck. Brovski’s tongue found my ear. I heard him breathing - panting. Holding me in his strong arms, he pushed deeper into me.

My thighs burned and my body shook. The hot area between my legs pulsed.

I couldn’t control myself anymore.

Throwing my head back, I closed my eyes, seeing only red. An orgasmic wave of relief washed over my body. The tension inside me released and my body convulsed. A cry escaped my throat and echoed off the walls. My fingers dug into Brovski’s shoulders and my legs squeezed tighter around his waist. My muscles deep inside contracted and released wildly with orgasm, gripping tighter and tighter around Brovski’s cock, throbbing and milking him until he came.

Under my arms, Brovski shook. Pinning me up against the locker, he thrust inside me with three slow, deep pumps. He pulled me tighter around him and bucked his hips, thrusting deeply one last time.

Our legs shook like jelly. Exhausted from the lactic acid in our muscles and shaky from the adrenaline coursing through our veins, we crumbled to the floor in a sweaty heap. Brovski leaned his head against my shoulder and his body slumped heavy on mine. My nose rested on his damp hair. I felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed. His heart buzzed against my buzzing heart. The muscles deep between my legs clenched and released, relaxing each time.

That was the best workout I’ve had all year.

We lay together until our sweat cooled and we regained our breath. Finally, Brovski lifted himself up and stood over me.

What now? What should I say to him? There was no way Brovski would want a lowly media intern hanging around him, anyway.

Should I leave?

My brain swam trying to process the situation.

Reality trickled back to me. A pang of regret clenched my heart as I realized I didn’t get the interview I came to get. Instead, I was a Brovski fan-girl and a pretend reporter who put getting laid before my actual job. A mixture of guilt and shame mixed in my stomach thinking about what I’d report to my boss. Even though I learned a lot about Brovski tonight, there wasn’t much that could safely be broadcast on HSN.

Heat rose in my cheeks again as a wave of shame flowed through me. Averting my eyes from Brovski, I pulled down my bunched skirt and tucked my nipples back into my damp shirt.

“I guess I’ll go now,” I said timidly as I got up, standing on my trembling legs. I took a shaky step towards the bench where my phone was - the last step before my walk of shame through the sports arena.

Brovski furrowed his brow. “No interview?”

“What? Oh-” I looked at my phone.

“You need interview - come to hotel room and I can give to you.”

“Your hotel room?” I asked stupidly. Had I heard him right? This truly must have been a dream!

My mind split into two scenarios. Either Brovski really wanted to talk about hockey or he wanted to continue our date. Either way, I won. My body tingled thinking about being around him longer.

“I have private room,” his commanding, but soft, voice seduced me. With gentle fingers, he touched my neck. “You learn more about famous hockey player, Brovski,” he gestured towards himself and smirked. “I learn more about beautiful hockey woman.”

Hello!

My cheeks burned. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed that Peter Brovski - Peter Brovski! - would have any interest in me, and now he was inviting me back to his private room!

“Please.” One strong hand grabbed my waist and pulled me close, pressing my body against his naked body. The warmth of his breath tingled on my skin. “I want to give to you. Come.” His eyes pierced into mine as he waited for me to respond.

My heart beat fast in my chest. My head swam.

“Room service?” He added, raising his eyebrows. As if I needed extra incentive to say yes.

“Yes,” I smiled. “Yes!” After our vigorous workout, room service would be necessary to replenish all the energy we spent. Especially if we were going to work out again.

Brovski cracked a giant smile, revealing his chipped tooth.

I smiled back. “You know, the longer I know you, the more I like you.”

With his arms still around my waist, Brovski squeezed me. “Captain’s job is to improve.” The power in his voice sent shivers up my thighs and neck. He smirked devilishly, pressing me against his naked body again. I melted in his arms.

I’m in so much trouble!

“Should we get going?” I asked, excited to get back to his hotel room, talk hockey, and continue our night. I pushed away from Brovski, slipping my toes into my heels.

Brovski pulled me back towards him and effortlessly lifted me up, wrapping my legs around him again. My heels dropped off my toes to the floor

“Shower time,” he smiled. Brovski grabbed the garter that was still on my leg and peeled off my stocking, flinging it across the room.

Yes. A shower sounded delicious. It took Brovski suggesting it for me to notice how soaked in sweat we both were. Nothing sounded better than a nice, cool shower (besides maybe room service in Brovski’s hotel room).

Brovski continued undressing me - pulling off my shirt, unzipping my skirt, and unhooking my bra, leaving them all in a trail as he walked to the showers (avoiding stepping on the team logo, of course).

Brovski hardened again. His erection danced along my underside. He turned the shower on and a burst of steam filled the room. The vapour settled on our skin and the cool water ran down our backs. Pulling my hair, he tilted my head back and kissed me along my neck. It would be a while before we ordered room service.

THE END

###

Now Available: Two on One (Puck Bunny Series #2) by Violette Paradis

Waking up in a hotel suite after a wild night with Brovski, Stacey is unsure about her puck bunny status and wonders whether she should stay or go. Stacey’s doubts are quashed when Brovski invites her to the next game. While traveling on the team’s jet, Stacey gets to know some of the other players and makes a sexy bet with Erics, the assistant captain, about the outcome of that night's high-stakes game, allowing her to learn a bit more about Brovski’s game-play.

Puck Bunny is the first instalment of the Puck Bunny Series, other titles include…

Two on One (Erotic Romance) (Puck Bunny Series #2)

Penalty Box (Erotic Romance) (Puck Bunny Series #3)

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Every new story goes on sale for $0.99 for hours before returning to full price. Only subscribers to Violette’s mailing list know when new stories are released and can take advantage of these special discounts!

For more of stories, check out Violette’s Amazon page.

Thank You

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please rate it and leave a review - this allows me to write more of what you like! Thank you for your support!

-Violette

More Stories by Violette Paradis

***Billionaire Next Door Series***

All Yours (The Billionaire Next Door #1)

For You (The Billionaire Next Door #2)

My Love (The Billionaire Next Door #3)

*** Naughty Princess ***

Desire: The Millionaire Count

Love: A Pirate’s Life

*** Puck Bunny Series ***

Puck Bunny (Erotic Romance) (Puck Bunny Series #1)

Two on One (Erotic Romance) (Puck Bunny Series #2)

Penalty Box (Erotic Romance) (Puck Bunny Series #3)

*** Other Stories ***

Love Games (Erotic Spy Romance)

The Gladiator’s Girl

Check out Violette’s Amazon page for more!

To contact Violette, email paradiserotica@gmail.com

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