Slap Shot (D.C. Stars, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

“I see why you girls told me not to miss the stretching. It’s almost pornographic,” I say. “Look at Liam.” Piper grins and points at the goalie with the hand not holding her microphone. He’s in a full split in front of the net, and my mouth drops open. “His flexibility is also fun off the ice.” “I’ve never been able to stretch like that, and he’s doing it in pads and a helmet. And the rest of them? It’s like free entertainment.” My eyes wander over to Maverick and Hudson. They’re both on their knees with their legs spread, and they’re almost thrusting into the ice. I’m sure there’s a physical benefit to the move they’re doing—something that makes some sort of muscle limber and warm—but it’s indecent enough to take me back to the last time I got off with my vibrator. I thought about Hudson that night. I’m thinking about him every night I touch myself lately. I pictured the toy as his fingers as I circled my clit, and when I fell apart on the silicone—over the span of three separate orgasms—it was a feat not to yell out his name. Watching him stretch is giving me a new visual: us on a bed. Him holding himself above me as he slowly rocks his hips, burying himself inside me. The hint of a smirk when he asks how much I like being his friend.

The warmups are the best part of the hockey game :))