“All right, are you ready for this? The Boxing Day Beatdown. TD Garden. Private ice time.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Garrett Graham.” Another pause. “John Logan.” I swallow. She doesn’t miss the response, faintly smirking at me. “Hunter Davenport.” My dick twitches again. “Jake Connelly.” “Oh my God, stop,” I groan. “Are you saying you spend Boxing Day skating with all those guys?” “Oh yeah. It’s a tradition. All the kids play too. We pick captains. It gets intense.” She gazes south. “What’s the percentage now?” I squeeze my cock. Appraising it. “Eighty percent.”
