Chapter 3
CAELIA
“Pizza is here!” Dad yells from downstairs.
The first thing I did when I got home was shower and put on pajamas. We decided to order pizza instead of going out because I’m not in the mood to be around people.
All it’ll take when I feel like this is for one person to walk behind me, and I could spiral into another panic attack. My anxiety is a lying ho, telling me everyone is out to get me.
I check my phone once more, hoping for a text from Addie, deflating when I see there isn’t one. It’s simply one more strike against me. I feel like she’s going to forget I exist, which is silly, right?
Leaving my phone in my room so I won’t obsessively check it, I head downstairs to eat. My stomach is grumbling since I haven’t had anything else to eat other than the toast this morning.
“I’m starving,” I groan, walking into the kitchen to sit down with my dad.
“That place is so fucking shady,” he mutters. “Who doesn’t properly onboard their employees? I know you were excited.”
“It feels as if they were using me for free work,” I sigh, pulling my plate closer to me.
“Jonna, the store owner, kept getting on me about what I was doing. Yet, I had absolutely no direction. I deleted all the work that I did from the shared gallery she set up, but she locked me out of everything else.”
“My daughter is petty,” Dad chuckles. “I don’t know why they thought they could take advantage of you.”
“I was trying to be helpful,” I mutter, taking a bite of my pizza.
“There’s a difference between being helpful and a doormat,” he says. “It may be too soon to ask, but what are you going to do next?”
“I have no idea. Lick my wounds? My pride is hurt. I actually thought I’d landed a great job.”
“The world will want to use your talent and spit you out,” Dad growls. He’s the only alpha I don’t have an issue with yelling or growling. It scares the shit out of me when others do it. “It’s not a bad idea to work somewhere you know that won’t happen.”
“This feels like a trap,” I snort. “You’re the only person who I trust not to fuck me over.”
“Those are unfortunate words,” he says, rolling his eyes. “If I could wrap you up in bubble wrap forever, I absolutely would. I will never apologize for that. You’re an adult, but also mine to protect for as long as you let me.”
“I know. I love you too. I’m going to go to bed early, check out jobs listed tomorrow online, and go back to the drawing board. I didn’t expect to be grifted on my first day in the real world,” I grumble.
“Fucking assholes,” he agrees. “Do you want to talk about what happened at the rink?”
“My stupid panic attack?” I ask, finishing a slice of pizza. I’m still hungry, but my stomach is twisting itself into knots. I’ll be fine for now.
“It’s not stupid if you can’t breathe and cry,” Dad says. “You were almost enjoying practice.”
“Almost,” I admit. “I love the game and hate the players. It’s ridiculous. I have a really hard time figuring out where that leaves me. Is this where you remind me that I need therapy?”
“Sometimes the wrong therapist can do more harm than good,” he shrugs. “I went to one to work on my anger, and realized my emotions had nothing to do with my inability at the time to get hired.”
Wincing, I nod. “The idea that we can only manage how we react to things withers and dies on the vine in the face of that night.”
“Exactly. The experience taught you to be afraid of all alphas, and I hate that for you. Alphas are supposed to protect,” Dad reminds.
“Luis…used his bark against me,” I whisper. “Helpless doesn’t begin to describe how that felt.”
“Using your bark against someone like that is illegal,” he rumbles. “They should be in prison, not playing professional hockey. I wish I had pushed more—”
“I doubt anyone would have believed me, despite being caught in the act,” I say. I feel really tired all of a sudden, and my eyelids are heavy. “I was doing okay tonight until I was surrounded by the players. Being five-two is humbling.”
“Speaking of,” he says, pushing something in my direction. “I had a stun gun delivered when I ordered pizza.”
“What a great time to be alive,” I giggle. God, I feel loopy. “Teach me how to use it tomorrow? I’m tired and beginning to fade.”
“Yeah, I can do that,” he says with a nod. “Tomorrow morning, will you go skating with me?”
“I…The last time I tried to go, I freaked out,” I confess.
“The rink is closed in the morning. It’ll just be you and me. Giving up the things you used to love is bullshit, Cae. Don’t let them do it.”
The unspoken words that my father didn’t give up hang in the air, and I push away from the counter as I think.
“No one will be there?” I ask.
“Gerry has a split shift,” he replies. “Players and the public will be kept out. It’ll just be us.”
“Alright,” I breathe, sure I’m going to regret this. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I can feel his gaze on me as I walk back to my room. He’s right, but how do you take back your life when you’ve been living in fear for so long?
LEVON
Fuck am I sore. I’ve been working through an injury, and while it’s healing, there are certain exercises that can flare things up. They’re meant for mobility, but I’m currently cursing out the assistant coaches in my head.
“Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing,” Dr. Santo Diaz growls in my ear, his hand on my neck. “You need an ice bath. Move it.”
My lips twitch at how much I want to say something inappropriate, but he’s right. Fuck, I really hate ice baths.
“Yes, Doctor,” I murmur, instead of calling him Daddy.
Santo and I are doing a dangerous dance. The owner doesn’t want fraternization between the staff and hockey players, but I doubt he’s ever thought about why the team’s doctor’s dick shouldn’t be down my throat.
I really like Santo, and I’m generally a bit of a dick to people. I help with charity work when I have time because it keeps me busy on the off season, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy socializing with others. I have a problem with fighting at bars, which means I minimize how often I drink as well.
I know I have anger issues, okay? I’m working on it by turning it into really hot sex with Santo. Puck bunnies follow hockey players around like a bad smell, but they can get clingy. The rest of the team can engage in shit like that.
I’m over it, and have been for awhile.
“Those eyes spell trouble,” Santo murmurs.
I can’t help the grin that spreads as I strip out of my clothes, headed toward an ice bath that’s ready for me. The staff here is amazing, and I can’t imagine playing for any other team.
Even when there are people I want to avoid, like our PR manager. I thought that toning down how much trouble I get into would pull her back from this ridiculous notion that we just need to date more, but I can tell the pressure is going to intensify instead.
Santo helps me ease into the ice bath, and I drop my head back as I wait for the pain to numb. I’m used to the aches in this sport. In my mind, it’s all worth it for the thrill of doing something I love. I’m only thirty-two. As long as I take care of my body, I can keep playing.
There are other people in the room, and Santo does the rounds to help with stretches, deep tissue massage, or make suggestions. Every touch is professional, there’s no heat in his eyes when he works, except when his dark brown eyes move to me.
There’s no doubt that the man is gorgeous. Perfectly olive skin without a single trace of a tan line, just enough scruff on his face to look roguish, and strong hands. Others on the team have made jokes that they’ll gladly do anything he asks, sparking jealousy inside me.
I don’t like to share. As an alpha, that’s kind of silly when so many end up in a pack. I’m very much a loner. It’s an ongoing joke that I’m willing to be a team player on the ice, but the world can go to hell and I’d barely blink an eye.
Coach Miles is working on this with me. As assistant captain, I’m supposed to give a shit about my teammates. Players come and go, and it’s hard for me to form attachments. That’s why Santo came out of nowhere and surprised me.
“Out,” Santo grunts, making me roll my eyes as I stand. He hands me a towel, and I dry off as I climb out of the tub. “I’ll be back guys.”
My teammates nod without paying attention, each of them lost in the aftercare of practice.
Following Santo to another exercise room, I watch with hooded eyes as he tosses away my towel and gazes at my cock.
“I just got out of the ice, what do you expect?” I ask, though I can feel it beginning to stir.
“I think you need to sit down and let me suck your cock,” he murmurs, pushing me into the position he wants me in.
“That’s new,” I tease him, watching as he drops to his knees.
“Not really,” he grumbles. “You’re just a slut for my dick.”
“This is true, Daddy,” I say, smirking as he glances up at me. “I can’t help it.”
His hand wraps around my shaft, pumping it at its base.
I’m already at half mast at this point, just from being around him.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fucked my cock with my fist in the shower while thinking about him.
He heard me say his name once when I came, and that’s how this whole thing started.
“Fuck, you always smell so good,” he mutters. “I wonder if you taste like a cinnamon roll too.”
His words send my blood south, and I groan as he swallows down my thick cock. His tongue drags down my piercings, while on the way back up, his teeth drag on them.
“You’re gonna kill me,” I groan. His dark gaze insists that I keep my mouth shut, and I grit my teeth when his hand tugs on my knot.
There’s something about a man who knows his way around a dick that seriously turns me on. I’ve always been pansexual, I’m just not very vocal about it. Santo’s gaze remains on my face, watching how he affects me.
My hands remain curled around the bench, despite wanting to sink into his hair and fuck his mouth. That may come later, Santo is someone who is going to want to learn my body before giving over any kind of control.
Goddamn. He doesn’t have a gag reflex, unlike me. I love a challenge, and I’ve been trying to train myself to take his dick without gagging. Santo thinks it’s fun to watch me swallow around his shaft, but always loses his mind when I suck on his knot.
Taking me deep down his throat, Santo growls, watching my body shudders.
I’m struggling not to take my eyes off him, obsessed with how well his scent works with mine.
He smells and tastes like frosting, and my eyes finally close as his finger presses against my asshole.
That’s the last straw as I come, gasping as his throat tightens around me as he swallows my ropes of cum.
Someone clears his throat behind us, and my eyes snap open. Fuck, this was damn stupid of me. My neck cracks as I look over my shoulder, seeing the coach glaring at us.
“Shit,” Santo mumbles, standing as I snap my legs shut.
“You’ve both been sloppy,” Coach Miles says, his arms folded over his chest. “You shouldn’t shit where you eat, Phillips.”
Great, now he’s insisting on using my last name. That’s wonderful.
“I’m not,” I say, reaching for the towel. Santo has been the team’s doctor for the past four months. While that’s a blip of time, I’m not getting my dick wet. Until now, he’s fucked, teased, and enjoyed getting his dick sucked. “I also don’t appreciate you talking about him like that.”
Santo’s body is stiff as I stand, wrapping my towel around my hips.
“We can tone things down at work, Coach. My injury would be much worse without his help, and his work ethic speaks for itself,” I say.
“It’s inappropriate,” Coach grunts.
“Then I guess Dr. Diaz should take me out on a proper date so I’m less of a fuck boy,” I smirk.
“That’s not funny,” Santo mutters.
“Wait, is this real?” Coach Miles asks.
Raking my hand through my bleach blonde hair, I think about that. Santo looks stricken, his lips swollen from sucking me off as he stands beside me.
“I think it could be for me,” I admit. “Santo?”
“I’ve never gotten on my knees for anyone,” he says so softly I almost can’t hear him. His cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, but that could be because he just got caught with my dick in his mouth. “I don’t typically fuck around at work. I have a really hard time remembering that around you.”
“This is going to fuck with Marilyn’s plan,” Coach Miles says. “I put my ass on the line for you.”
“How so?” I ask, struggling to follow the conversation. Too many big things are happening at the moment. I’m not sure if Santo is on the same page with me or not. Fuck!
“I told her you’d be on that date that she wants you to go on. It’s been good for our PR image. The public loves it, and more tickets are getting sold with the hope that Marilyn will choose one of them for you all,” Coach Miles says.
“I don’t like being pimped out,” I grumble. “I’m not fucking going. You can tell her that too. It’s bad enough that I attend all the other things you have me go to. I’m not a trained circus animal, Coach. No.”
“It’s really not that bad,” he sighs.
“Aren’t you single?,” Santo asks, his lips pressed together to hold back a smile. “What’s good for the team is good for the coach, isn’t it?”
“No!” Coach yells. “How did this get turned around on me, anyway? You’re both still in trouble.”
“Sign me up for charity work where I don’t have to socialize,” I grunt. “It can be whatever you want, I’ll submit to my photo being taken. I’m not going on a date with a random puck bunny.”
“Oh my fucking…Phillips, they aren’t puck bunnies. Please don’t let the team hear you say that,” Coach groans, his hand rubbing against his trimmed beard. “You’re killing me here.”
“Too bad,” I say, turning toward Santo. Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I pull him into a filthy fucking kiss. He even looks a little dazed by the time he comes up for air. “Did I make my point clear?”
“You did to me,” he breathes, his pupils blown.
“Good,” I say, leaving the room.
“We aren’t done yet!” Coach screams.
“Yeah, we are,” I say, ignoring everyone else as I go to shower.
I’m not fucking doing what Marilyn wants me to do. I’m supposed to play hockey, and that’s it.