The Pucking Wrong Number: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 1)

Things were going…well.

As well as they could go when you were keeping your soulmate trapped in your penthouse apartment.

This was the last game of the Conference Finals, though.

And I could finally feel her softening.

Her body had been an easy sell. She was addicted to what I could do to her, I knew that. And although she hadn’t let me fuck her, she was all about our new morning routine.

Which consisted of me with my head between her legs.

I wasn’t complaining about that.

It was my favorite place to be.

My dick wasn’t happy. But my hand was helping him through it, as was the smell of her pussy all over my tongue.

“Monroe’s missing the game tonight, too?” Ari asked, frowning as he glanced behind us at her empty seat as we settled onto our bench. “She hasn’t made it to any of the games this series. Are y’all okay?”

“Finals. They’re killing her this semester,” I tossed out, knowing Ari wouldn’t have any idea what her school schedule was and that she’d been done for most of the series. It’s not like I could actually tell him that Monroe was currently chained to a bed.

That was probably the worst part of our current situation. For the first time since Tyler had died, I’d had someone in the crowd watching me, someone I loved.

The fact that she wasn’t there was like an aching hole in my chest. I’d only scored one goal last game. Without her eyes on me, it just wasn’t the same. Even though I’d vowed to never spend a night apart from her, I couldn’t figure out how to drag her unwillingly to Detroit without arousing suspicion. So I’d spent the entire night talking her ear off through the cameras while she pretended to ignore me.

Really great relationship building if you asked me.

I’d set up the tv so the games were on. But she’d turned it off every time, refusing to watch a single one.

Tonight, I’d set her up in the living room and rigged the television in there so that she couldn’t turn it off. Her eyes would be on me, even if she didn’t want them to be.

My girl was a sweetheart. I knew she would end up watching even if she didn’t want to.

I’d also locked the elevator, and made sure all the knives and electronics were hidden.

She was a sweetheart, but we also weren’t quite there yet.

Trying to get my mind off Monroe and our current issues, I put on my headphones and blasted Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Humble’ to get in the right headspace.

Fuck yes.

By the end of the song, my adrenaline was where it should be, pumping loudly through my veins and ready to get out there.

The arena was packed, a sold out crowd, desperately cheering and roaring as we hit the ice. I could feel their energy fueling me as I skated.

The game started off rough, both teams pushing and shoving to gain control. But I was ready. My mind was clear, my body primed for action. And then it happened—I saw an opening and I took it, slamming the puck into the net.

The crowd erupted into cheers as I held up my hockey stick and skated over to the nearest cameraman, making the heart sign into the camera so Monroe would know it was for her.

‘That’s how you do it, baby!’ Ari shouted as he slapped me on the back before we regrouped for the next play.

We kept fighting, back and forth, but I wasn’t done yet. I wasn’t going to leave the game with just one goal again.

I took a deep breath and surveyed the ice, my eyes scanning for any opening as I took control of the puck. I maneuvered it around one defender and then another, zigzagging my way towards the goal.

Approaching the net, I saw the goalie tense up, preparing for my shot. Quickly shifting the puck to my left and then back to my right, I faked him out, leaving him sprawling on the ice. I shot the puck towards the net…and it bounced off one of the Detroit’s forwards’ heads and ricocheted into the net.

Well…I hadn’t expected that.

Pumping my fist in the air in triumph, I grinned as I skated around the ice, taking in the screams of the fans and my teammates. I ended up in front of the camera, making another heart sign with my hands.

The crowd got even wilder.

I’d just turned to skate to the bench when…I was hit from behind. I hit the ice hard, the wind knocked out of me.

Rolling over, I realized there was a naked fucking chick on top of me. She was trying to wrap herself around my body like a fucking anaconda. I tried to push her away, but there was boob and butt everywhere, and I was at a loss what to do.

Security rushed in then, dragging the girl away.

“I love you, Lincoln. I love you. Please marry me,” she screamed as they rushed her off the ice.

Ari skated over, barely able to stay up, he was laughing so hard. “Oh my gosh. I’m getting tape of that. That was the best fucking thing ever. Your face when she hit you!” He bent over his knees, his whole body shaking as he howled.

“How did she even get on the ice?” I asked, pushing to my feet. Fuck. That was crazy. The NHL almost never had streakers. The fact that she’d been able to get out here like that.

Impressive and a bit terrifying.

Ari and I skated over to the bench where Coach was freaking out to the officials about what had happened.

“Daniels—get on the bench. You’re going to need a minute to get your head right after…that,” he snapped, not even bothering to suppress his amusement.

I rolled my eyes as guys clamored onto the ice and Ari and I settled onto the bench. I wondered what Monroe had thought of that.

The team pushed hard until the final buzzer sounded…and we’d won.

The noise in the arena was deafening as the crowd erupted in cheers and screams. Streamers and confetti rained down on the ice, creating my favorite kind of spectacle. My teammates were jumping and hugging each other, whooping with excitement. I joined in, grinning from ear to ear, feeling the thrill of victory pulsing through my veins.

Ari practically tackled me as we freaked out.

We were going to the Stanley Cup finals.

It was every guy’s dream, from the moment he stepped on the ice as a kid, that someday he was going to be here. Before Monroe, dreaming of this moment used to be the only thing that got me through.

One more series.

I tried to savor the moment and soak up the atmosphere. The air in the arena crackled with energy, and I was proud to be a part of this city, this organization. The fans were chanting our team’s name, and gratitude for their faithfulness surged through me.

As the celebration continued, I missed Monroe desperately. I wanted her to be here with me, to share this moment.

I had to move things along quicker, get us back to where we were before. Immediately.

Because there was no way I was going to play in the finals without Monroe in those stands.

Monroe

The elevator dinged as it opened and I pretended to read the book I had in my hands. It was annoying I couldn’t even read a romance novel anymore without thinking of him.

Before Lincoln had turned into the psycho of the century, none of the heroes in these books were anything compared to him.

Now I was comparing him to the villains too…and still having the same problem.

I’d always been a sucker for the irredeemable sinners.

And now it appeared…I had one of my own.

He materialized in the doorway, his gaze…relieved, with that same hungry, awestruck edge he’d had from the beginning, like he couldn’t believe I was still there.

“Hey, dream girl,” he murmured, leaning against the wall.

I’d been doing my best to ignore him, trying to “ice him out” so to speak. The only time I’d engaged was when he was between my legs and I had no choice but to scream out his name.

But…I was weakening. Getting tired of the distance between us.

I hated it.

I couldn’t believe this was a thought in my head, but besides the chain around my ankle, he’d been perfect.

He was making me even needier. He had started pulling me into his lap every time he brought me a tray to eat, and spoon feeding me. He’d pull me on his lap to watch tv at night. And he’d just cuddle me…constantly. Until I was more addicted to his touch than I’d been before.

I knew this was some kind of executed plan. Every move he made, every sweet word he murmured, it was with an end goal in mind.

Only, I was going back and forth on whether I hated the idea of the end goal so much anymore.

I was having crazy thoughts…like asking myself if what he’d done was actually so bad…

Because when I really looked at the consequences of what he’d done,I couldn’t deny I was better off.

Where had I been before? Barely making ends meet in a tiny apartment that should have been condemned, working two jobs while going to school. Dealing with sexual harassment at work. Starving a lot of nights.

And where was I after his actions? Living in an enormous penthouse apartment right out of a dream, a closet full of designer clothes, a full belly of gourmet meals…and hotter sex than I ever could have dreamed or comprehended. He hadn’t done anything to interfere with school—which was the most important thing to me out of them all…he’d just bought me a new laptop and made sure I didn’t have to take the bus home at night anymore after late classes. Without having to worry about money, I could actually take daytime classes next semester if I wanted, and get my degree faster.

And he’d made me feel so freaking loved. For the first time in my life.

That was what crazy people said, I chided myself.

He’d lied. He’d hurt people.

He’d manipulated me.

I couldn’t trust him.

My breath caught in my throat as his gaze clung to me. He was in his workout clothes, his gray Knights sweatpants hanging low so I could see his V. His hair, damp from the shower he’d taken after the game, was tousled and sticking to his forehead. Knowing him, he would have raced home the second he was able to. The muscles in his arms bulged as he crossed them over his chest.

I was having a visceral reaction just staring at him. Heat was rising up my neck, my heartbeat was quickening.

Ugh. Fuck him for being so fucking hot.

I swallowed hard, feeling a fluttering in my stomach. ‘Hey,’ I finally replied after I’d finished eye-fucking him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed himself off the doorway and sauntered over to me, a cocky grin spreading across his face. My heart skipped a beat as he approached, and I was practically drooling as I took him in.

Get yourself together. You currently have a chain around your ankle.

‘You look amazing,’ he said, his eyes tracing over my body appreciatively. I stared down at the T-shirt and leggings combo I was wearing—the same outfit I’d had on when he left for the game this afternoon. Since I could only change when he was around to take off my cuff.

Unable to stop myself, I blushed, warmth blooming in my chest. ‘Thanks.’

I hated that he was so sweet.

Lincoln leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from mine. ‘Did you watch the game?” he asked hopefully.

This was where I needed to lie to him. To tell him of course I hadn’t watched. That I hoped he’d lost. And fuck him.

“Yeah, I did,” I found myself saying instead, watching a beautiful smile spread across his already too handsome face. “Congratulations.”

I’d screamed and cheered after his two goals…and the accompanying heart signs he’d made just for me.

Because obviously, Stockholm Syndrome had sunk in much faster than I’d thought.

I’d also been insanely jealous when that naked chick had appeared out of nowhere and tackled him.

His body was mine.

I was never, ever going to admit that, of course.

He was still staring at me, and warning signs were blaring in my head. I wanted to reach up and run my fingers through his damp hair, feeling the soft strands against my skin.

I dragged my gaze away and pretended to read my book. Before I did something crazy like that.

He plucked it out of my hands and threw it across the room.

“Hey!” I cried out, my mouth snapping closed as he took a small key from his pocket and unlocked the cuff around my ankle.

He scooped me into his arms and strode out of the room, down the hallway, and into his bedroom.

“This is done,” he said, throwing me onto the bed.

“I get it. You’re mad. You’re furious. You don’t trust me. But I don’t fucking care. Because I know you’re also crazy about me. Not as crazy as I am about you. But I know you. I know that if I were to tell you you’re free, you wouldn’t go anywhere.”

“Are you freeing me?” I asked, confused.

“Fuck no,” he snapped, sounding affronted, like I’d offended him.

“Then what are you saying?” My voice was petulant…bratty.

“I’m saying that we’re moving on. We’re going to proceed with our relationship with you knowing that I’ll do anything to keep you. Anything to make you happy. To make you love me. And I’m going to keep doing all of those things.”

“So it’s never going to matter what I want? You’re just going to do whatever you think is best?”

“Probably!” he suddenly yelled. The first time he’d ever raised his voice at me. “Or at least until you figure out that this thing between us defies all logic. That it isn’t going to follow any rules that the rest of the world…or your fucking mom has set.”

“You don’t know anything about my mother.”

He cocked his head. “I know she ripped your heart out, just like losing my brother took mine. I know you hear her voice in your head, that your past haunts you. I know she’s made you terrified to take what I’m begging to give you!”

“This isn’t what love is supposed to be like,” I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut as my tears threatened to drown me.

He grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his eyes. “Fuck love, Monroe. Love is nothing. You can feel love for anyone. What I feel for you is pain. Knowing that a part of my fucking soul is living outside of my body and now that I’ve found it, I’ll die if I ever lose it. That’s what we have. Love is a shadowed imitation for people unlucky enough to never find their soulmates. What we have is everything.”

His words did something to me, rewired something in my brain, like they’d given me permission to accept the crazy, accept the darkness, accept that this went against what society–and my mother–had warned me about.

Accept that I couldn’t live without it.

Lincoln kissed me hard. Desperately. Like that moment was the sum total of our existence. Lips tangling, our moans filling the air, I allowed myself to actually touch him for the first time in a week, to run my hands all over that beautiful body. He shuddered and whimpered against my fingertips like my touch gave him pain.

I moaned when he abruptly pulled away. Like he was possessed, he ripped off my clothes before yanking off his sweats and briefs and tossing them to the side of us.

His fingers ran over my throat, rubbing against my pulse for a moment before he gently pushed me to my back. His grip released and he grabbed my legs, spreading me wide and shoving his thighs between mine, settling into the space. He lined up his cock, rubbing it through my folds before he forced it inside a few inches.

‘Fuck yes,” he growled hoarsely. “I’ve been desperate for this, baby. Desperate for you to take my cock. Let me fucking in.’ His back arched, his chin tilting up to the ceiling, his straining muscles displayed like a feast before me. His abs flexed with each thrust, arms bulging as he pushed my thighs wide.

I instantly orgasmed, unable to stop myself in the face of the highly erotic image in front of me. It was me that did this to him. Me that made him crazy. So turned on he couldn’t think.

‘Lincoln,’ I moaned, trying to take all of his brutally thick dick. My body resisted at first—he was so big that a week without him was a long time…and I whimpered in protest. He grabbed my hips, yanking me closer and locking eyes with me as he drove his thick shaft deeper into my throbbing pussy.

‘Almost in, baby. You can take it.’ His voice was both commanding and needy as he thrust himself inside me, filling me and stretching me to my limits. ‘You’re such a good girl,’ he praised me in a lust-drunk, gravelly voice as his fingers dug into my flesh, holding me in place. There was a sharp pain that morphed into a throbbing, spreading sensation that gradually transformed into ecstasy.

I moaned, my body instinctively responding to his skilled touch.

His thrusts were aggressive, his cock battering in and out of me, pounding into me fiercely, like he was desperate for me to feel where he’d been for the next week.

I loved it, though. Loved the sound of his grunts filling the air as he fucked my swollen sex. The sensation was almost too much to bear, an intense and all-consuming pleasure that reverberated throughout my body. His powerful thrusts hit my cervix, driving me closer to the edge.

He held himself there, deep inside me, as he groaned, ‘Fuuuck.’

My core tightened, and then I was pulsing around his thick cock. I was awash with a scorching rush of pleasure, my heart hammering in my chest, my breaths coming in erratic gasps.

He groaned. ‘Fuck, yes. Choke my cock. You’re so perfect.’

‘Lincoln, I need—’ I whimpered, my hips rocking against him.

‘What do you need, sweetheart? Do you need me to fuck you? Take care of that pretty pussy?’ he growled.

‘Yes! Yes… please,’ I begged. He kissed me hard before he pulled out and slammed back in once more.

Suddenly, he came to a complete stop. He stared down at me, his eyes wild…and determined.

“Well, I need something from you first, baby,” he murmured as he slid his cock out achingly slow…his shaft glistening from my wetness.

“Anything,” I breathed. He held my hips down with one hand so I couldn’t move an inch…and I was immediately hit by deja vu of what he’d done before.

He hadn’t gotten what he wanted then.

But I was positive he was going to get it now.

“Yes, I can see it in your face. You know what I need. What I have to have. What I’m desperate for. Just say it, sweetheart,” he begged, moving back in so slowly I was choking back a frustrated scream.

His teeth were clenched, his muscles flexing as he worked to control himself. He was torturing himself just as much as he was torturing me.

I wanted it, too. I couldn’t deny it any longer, and honestly, I was tired of fighting it. I might as well give him what he wanted.

“Tell me. Give me what’s mine,” he growled as my pussy sucked on his length.

“I love you,” I whispered, hot tears flooding my eyes.

He groaned and came, hot spurts of cum filling me completely.

I knew from experience that Lincoln had crazy control. Which meant he’d come undone just from my words.

A heady warmth floated through my chest.

“You’re so proud of what you just did to me, aren’t you, sweet girl?” he smirked as he pounded inside me, somehow still perfectly hard despite just coming.

‘Lincoln,’ I cried, my body on the verge of my own devastating orgasm.

‘Yeah, my baby. You belong to me, don’t you? Never going to fucking leave me. You’re going to let me take care of you. Let me give you everything. Aren’t you?” he demanded.

‘Yes,’ I cried as he hammered into me.

‘And you love me. Only me.’ His voice was rough and insistent, emphasized by a deep thrust that hit that perfect spot. ‘Say it.’

Breathless, I gasped, ‘Only you, Lincoln. I love you. Please…’

His hips fucked into me unrelentingly, pushing me closer to the edge. My core was swelling around his cock, sucking and pulling with each movement.

‘I’m the only one who knows what you need, Monroe. The only one who can give you this,’ he growled, angling his hips and driving into me with long, deep strokes that left me gasping for air.

He fucked me fast and hard, driving me into a spinning, starstruck orgasm that had me convulsing from head to toe. He groaned, ‘Sweetest pussy ever, baby. Giving me what I want. Tell me how much you love it.’

My hips bucked uncontrollably as I clenched around his cock, my entire body shaking with pleasure.

‘I love you. I love you so much, Lincoln,” I whimpered through the pleasure.

‘I love you so fucking much. I need you. I can’t survive without you.’

And that was the truth right there. The truth for both of us. We’d gone so far down this crazy ride, that there was no coming back.

We’d either be blissfully, completely happy with an ever after that overshadowed every love story that had ever been told.

Or we would destroy each other.

And I was more than happy to take that risk.

There was no other option for me.

He lifted my hips, hitting a new spot inside me, and I was on the edge once again. He reached down between us and worked my clit, pushing into me with a short staccato rhythm that had me screaming.

Lincoln lifted me higher, and his hand slid farther down, fingers pressing lightly against my rosebud while he hammered in and out of me. ‘Come on, dream girl. Give me one more. Take me to heaven.’

My entire body shook as a violent orgasm ripped through me, and I clenched down on his throbbing cock.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,” he growled, throwing his head back as he pulsed inside me…again. I was so incredibly wet, our combined fluid dripping down my ass cheeks and onto the bed.

He pulled out, his hands reaching between my legs, his fingers methodically pushing his cum back inside me. As he caught his breath, he murmured, ‘I love you so fucking much,’ his lips brushing against my pulse.

I was thoroughly fucked.

And I was also…thoroughly at peace.

Yes, Lincoln Daniels could ruin me.

But what a ride it would be.