3. Hunter
three
hunter
ASHLEIGH OR KAYLEIGH, or whatever her name is won’t stop playing with my fucking hair.
I keep pushing her away and she keeps coming back, giggling, whispering in my ear about all the filthy shit she wants me to do to her tonight. I couldn’t be less interested.
I already know she’ll be a boring lay. Most of them are.
They pretend to be into rough play, but as soon as I start actually being rough with them, they turn all skittish. It’s exhausting.
Ashleigh or Kayleigh tugs on my hair again, whining in my ear that she wants to go back to my place, and I finally snap. “Enough,” I bark.
“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” she whines.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Oh, come on, Hunter.”
I ignore her and take a sip of my Coke, my eyes landing on two girls standing a few feet away.
I recognize one of them instantly. It’s the beautiful blonde I had to rescue from that stupid prick last night.
I have no idea what her name is, but her face is unforgettable.
And she’s staring at me. As I watch, she takes a hesitant step forward. And stops.
Our gazes are locked, and I know I’m making her uncomfortable. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since last night. There’s something about her. I can’t quite explain it, and it chafes at me. And now here she is, as if I conjured her up myself.
Unable to resist, I crook my finger and beckon her towards me. She walks over as if in a trance.
I get up from my seat and push Ashleigh or Kayleigh aside.
“Hey there, princess,” I say as the beautiful blonde stops a foot in front of me.
“Hi.” She gives me a sweet, slightly crooked smile.
I stare at her, refusing to say anything else. My eyes bore into hers and she grabs a lock of her hair, twining it between her fingers. She looks back at her friend who mouths “do it,” then looks back at me.
I let the silence stretch, because this is the only interesting thing that has happened all night.
“Um,” she says. “I just wanted to thank you, um, for last night? I realized this morning that I, um, never did. So, thank you.”
I cross my arms and just look at her, loving the way she squirms. It’s fascinating what strategic silence can do to people.
“I owe you a debt,” she blurts, a blush staining her cheeks.
A debt? Well, well, well. Color me intrigued. I raise an eyebrow. “You think you owe me a debt?”
“You saved my life.”
This pretty little blonde thinks she owes me something for saving her from that disgusting motherfucker. How…gratifying. It presses all the right buttons inside me. The buttons that have made me obsessed with saving helpless women ever since I couldn’t save my mom as a kid.
I cock my head and look her up and down. She really does look like a fairytale princess with her big green eyes and soft blonde hair falling in waves over her tits. Her plain white tee and blue jeans mold to her curves in just the right places.
“What sort of debt are we talking about?”
“Oh. Um.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “I haven’t really thought it through, to be honest. Maybe you can tell me.”
Like an insect walking right into a spider’s web, she’s caught.
See, I may love helping desperate women, little damsels in distress, but there’s a very depraved side of me that also likes to see them tied up in my bed and at my complete mercy.
Yeah, I’m a twisted motherfucker, but it’s one of the few things that gets me off.
Without thinking too much about it, I reach out and stroke her cheek with my knuckles. She trembles and pulls her head back a little. “Yeah,” I say, my voice deceptively calm. “Maybe I can think of something. I don’t want you worrying about owing me.”
She exhales on a laugh. “Great. I’m glad you’re amenable.”
Oh, I’m amenable all right. Visions of her bent over, her nice round ass in my face, while I eat her out from behind make me hard.
I want to fuck her against the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, her face pressed against the glass.
I want her gorgeous legs on my shoulders while I pound into her tight pussy until she screams. I want to fill her up with my cum.
Fuck, I haven’t been this intrigued by a woman in a long time.
The puck bunnies that are always orbiting me have never interested me.
They throw themselves at me whether I show any signs of interest or not.
It’s tiresome. It’s fucking boring. I need something in my life that gets me as excited off the ice as I am on it.
I step closer to her and put my hand on her hip. She looks down at where I’m touching her and fear skates over her features. Good. I like my women a little intimidated by me. Especially gorgeous little princess lookalikes who come to me claiming they owe me a “debt.”
“I never got your name,” I prompt, pressing my fingers into her hip.
“Oh, it’s…Stevie.”
“Nice to meet you properly, Stevie. I’m Hunter.” I let go of her hip and she staggers back a little. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay. Bye.” She whirls around and rushes back to her friend. A heady dose of power heats my blood. It’s going to be fun playing with her.
“What was that all about?” Jamie asks when I sit back down.
“Just a fan wanting an autograph.”
Jamie chuckles. “Didn’t see you sign anything, dick.”
“Last time I signed an autograph, it was with my cum all over some chick’s tits,” Ryder chimes in. He salutes me with his beer bottle, wearing a shit-eating grin. Jamie smacks him on the back of the head and Ryder laughs.
“Seriously, what did that chick want?” Jamie asks.
I shrug, taking another sip of my Coke.
Ryder leans back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head. “I don’t think he wants us to know, James. Must be some juicy secret.”
“You’re right, Ryde. Our boy is hiding something.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
Ryder grins. “I think we’re getting under his skin, James.”
“Hell yeah, we are.” They clink beer bottles in a parody of a toast.
I shake my head. I can handle their teasing. We tease each other all the time. What bothers me is why I’m reluctant to tell them the whole situation with Stevie. It’s like I feel protective of her, but that’s gotta be bullshit. I don’t even know her.
Yeah, I saved her from that abusive creep, but she’s nobody to me. I don’t fucking owe her anything. According to her, she owes me.
Just the thought of it makes me hard.
My little damsel in distress, coming to thank me for being her knight in shining armor. She can show me her gratitude on her knees, with my dick in her mouth. When I shoot my load down her throat, she will swallow every last drop.
I grin. Oh Stevie, what have you got yourself into?
THE SWISH-SWOOSH of skates on ice is music to my ears.
Nothing calms me like being on the ice, stick in hand, maneuvering between opponents. I feel like a goddamn warrior.
It’s in direct contrast to the powerlessness I felt as a child.
I barrel down the center of the rink. Ryder has the puck and is racing towards the goal.
I catch up to him and check him, taking possession and turning in a wide arc.
Then it’s me racing toward Martinez, our goalie.
We’ve played together since hockey camp as kids.
He knows my technique well. The challenge for me is finding new ways to surprise him. And I love a fucking challenge.
I can hear Ryder behind me, catching up to me.
Sweat drips down my forehead and my thighs burn. The pain and discomfort are nothing to me. Like annoying flies you swat out of your face. If anything, they drive me to go harder.
Ryder is right next to me now. He stick-checks me but fails to get the puck. I go faster, my eyes on Martinez. Waiting until the last possible moment, I feint left and he lunges like I knew he would. I drive the puck straight between his legs.
Goal.
Adrenaline pumps in my veins. Victory, even though this is just a scrimmage, surges through me. The only other thing that makes me feel this good is sex, although I haven’t fucked anyone in months.
We hit the showers and Martinez claps me on the back. “Nice one,” he says. “Enjoy it ‘cause you’re not getting another goal next time.”
I smirk. “Sure, Marty. Keep telling yourself that.”
I lather up. Tilting my face up into the steaming hot water, I let it wash the soap off me. Unbidden, thoughts of Stevie crowd my head. I picture her in my penthouse shower, looking at me with those big green princess eyes while I rub soap all over her naked body.
Fuck.
Thinking about it is going to give me a hard-on in the fucking showers I share with a dozen other guys. I shake my head and press my hands against the tiles, letting water run down my back. I try to think of something that’ll send my dick back into submission.
My asshole father comes to mind. Yup, that’ll do it.
I turn off the water and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist.
Once I’m dressed, I grab my phone from my locker. Five missed calls from my father. Goddamn it. His calls always mean he wants me to do something that I will definitely not want to do. But it’s impossible to say no to him.
My family’s in real estate, and my father, despite being a raging drunk, rules Cruise Industries with an iron fist. I can’t risk having him cut me off.
Not until I make the NHL and start making my own money.
Being tethered to him at the ripe old age of 21 pisses me the fuck off.
But no amount of appealing to my grandfather or uncle has made a difference.
My father’s an alcoholic and a murderer, and he’s been enabled by my grandfather his whole life. He was abusive to my mom their entire marriage and killed her when I was only eight years old. I couldn’t save her then, and I can’t save myself now. Not yet anyway.
I dial his number.
He picks up after the first ring. “Why aren’t you answering my calls?”
“I was at practice.”
“There’s an event this weekend and I need you to be there.”
“What event?”
“Your uncle’s new gallery opening.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“No excuses,” he says, knowing I’d rather die than be at one of the stupid fancy parties my family is always hosting. “You’ll be there early and you’ll stay until the end.”
“Fine,” I grit out.
“Good boy.”
I hang up, bile rising in my throat. He treats me like a fucking dog on a leash. A leash I’m always straining against. Sometimes it feels like a noose around my neck. I can’t let it get tighter.
As I’m heading to my first class after practice, Stevie pops into my head again. I can’t figure out why she keeps entering my brain space. It’s not like I’ve never seen a hot girl before. It’s her eyes. It has to be. They’re so big and innocent. They tug at something inside me.
I stop in my tracks in front of the university’s School of Business building. Her “debt” to me. I think I just figured out how she can repay it.