The Pucking Wrong Rookie (Pucking Wrong #5)

by C.R. Jane

leaning forward because if I didn’t taste her…the day that I died was going to come quick.

“Most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Those sexy little moans and those sweet words coming from that perfect fucking mouth may have fooled the assholes you’ve been with before. But they’re not fooling me. Tell me what you like. We’re not going to stop until it feels so good you’re screaming and riding my face and begging for more.”

“Here’s a little thing about me, baby, my favorite thing about sex is pleasuring my partner. And since I’m positive that sex with you is going to be the best thing I’ve ever experienced, I want to make sure it’s the best thing you’ve ever experienced as well.”

“Oh, it’s possible, Red.” “Red?” she asked, sounding amused. “Yep, because those red lips torture me every time I look at you—I love them so much.”

“You’ve just never had someone with the right touch. Your body obviously has standards,”

“You sound very cocky, Mr. York. You should know, no one’s even come close.” “Not cocky, just confident, baby. And along with my superb skills, I also happen to be the most determined motherfucker on the planet. So it feels like I have everything going for me,”

feeling like perhaps I’d just discovered my purpose on this Earth. I’d always thought it was hockey, but obviously I’d been wrong. It was to take care of Sloane Calloway—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Not sure what that last one meant, but I was quite sure that this girl was the closest thing to heaven I could get, so it seemed to fit.

I’d meant what I’d said. I was in it to win it. I wanted her body. Her heart. Her fucking soul. I wasn’t going to let her keep anything from me, no matter how hard she tried. Sloane was mine, and I would settle for nothing less than owning all of her.

Eagerly lapping at the essence on her skin, I groaned as I tasted her. This was it. This was what I wanted to live on for the rest of my life. She had to give it to me.

Fuck. She was divine. My new religion. And I intended to worship her every day.

Today I was painting a field of ranunculus flowers I’d seen at Carlsbad Ranch when I was visiting San Diego last year. And today, the sky was staying sunny.

I hated him in that moment. Hated the way he looked at me like he could see every scar, every wound I tried to hide. Hated how his words made something inside me ache with the kind of hope I’d long since buried. And most of all, I hated that…it was impossible for him to win.

“What if I can’t ever give you everything, what if—what if they took too much of me? And I can’t ever get it back?”

“Then I’ll love what’s left of you.” I watched as the words sank into her skin. “I’ll love whatever you can give me, and it will be enough. Because, Sloane,” I murmured, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Even a single piece of you is worth more than anything anyone else could give me.”

As I lay there, holding her, a darkness seeped into my veins, destroying any semblance of the good guy I’d once thought myself to be. And as her soft breaths caressed my skin, I decided… I was perfectly all right with that.

“I want you,” he said roughly. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I want you more than hockey, more than money…more than fucking air. Tell me I can finally have you, Sloane.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me that you’re mine.”

“Logan York,” I whispered. “I don’t know how any of this can last. I don’t know how anything you say can be true…but for however long it can…I’m yours.”

“I couldn’t make up this body, even in my wildest dreams, Sloane. I’m convinced you were made just for me,”

something that almost resembled madness lurking in his gaze. Or maybe…that was just love. Since I met him, I was starting to understand—the two could feel the same.

Considering I’d never had a partner who could make me come…this felt far too easy for him. I was starting to think that Logan York had magical powers.

I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. His words echoed in my head, a mimicry for how I was feeling.

I glanced down and almost passed out. Holy fuck. His dick was a monster. “Thank you,” he said, and I realized that I’d said that out loud.

I’d seen a lot of dicks, but nothing held a candle to what was in front of me. How did he walk around all day with that in between his legs?

I love you, I wanted to whisper to the world. But I think he already knew.

“My perfect, magical girl,”

Magical. I’d never been called that before. Amazing. Good. Incredible. Sexy. I’d gotten all of those. But I hadn’t gotten that.

“Now you let yourself love me and trust me to catch you,” he responded, reaching up to smooth a piece of hair from my face. “Okay, Logan.”

A soft sigh had me setting down the phone and turning toward the woman I was…in love with. Holy fuck I was in love. I’d known I was obsessed…I’d known I was attracted…but this? This feeling inside me, like the sun rose and fell with her presence, like I couldn’t live without her…it had to be love.

“Sloane,” he said gently, his voice low, calming. “Maybe your body is finally believing what your mind doesn’t yet—that you’re safe here. Safe with me.”

“I’m not used to this. I’m not used to feeling like this. I don’t even know how to be like this.” Logan’s grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over my skin. “Then let me show you. Let me show you what you deserve. Let me take care of you—take care of everything.”

I collapsed into his chest, the sobs breaking free, my hands clutching his arms like he was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. And in that moment, I realized that maybe—just maybe—I could trust this. Trust him.

At some point, Geraldine leaned over to me, her sharp eyes twinkling. “He’s different with you,” she said quietly, nodding toward Logan. I glanced at him, my chest tightening at the softness in his expression as he laughed at something Camden had said. “Different how?” Geraldine smiled knowingly. “Happy.”

Maybe Geraldine was right. Maybe he was different. And maybe, just maybe, so was I.

The sweet smell of freshly baked goods followed me into the plane, and I glanced into the cockpit as I passed by. There, to my utter disbelief, were three more older women—all with silver hair—fiddling with switches like they’d been flying planes since World War II.

“Shhh. You can’t show our crazy yet. We have to make her love us first before you start talking about that,”

“You know those red flags they tell you to stay away from when you’re growing up.” “Yeah?” I asked, confused. “Well, it turns out…they’re actually very green once you get to know them.”

I’d never been more proud to be a part of something as I pulled on my Stanley Cupcake shirt and snacked on chocolate chip cookies and lemonade for the rest of the flight with the girls who might actually be…my friends.

“You can have as much as you want, baby. Such a good girl, begging for my cum.”

“You’re my good thing, baby. The best thing I’ve ever had.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I don’t know if I can be…enough. For anyone.” Olivia reached over, gently placing her hand on mine. “You’re already enough, Sloane. You just don’t see it yet.”

Olivia squeezed my hand, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t know you well yet, but sometimes you just know. You can see a kindred spirit—that you’ve survived things most people couldn’t even imagine. Just like me. And just like me…you’re still here. That means something. And if you ever do decide you want kids, they won’t be ruined. They’ll be loved. Because you know what it’s like to hurt, and that means you’ll fight harder than anyone to protect them.”

It continued like this for the rest of the session. Me pretending to make love to a burger, while Ari and Camden destroyed me.

“Next time you need money, York,” Lincoln said, still grinning, “maybe just ask one of us instead of making out with a cheeseburger on national TV.”

“We’ve been in the trenches together. We’ve crawled out of every damn hole they’ve tried to bury us in. And now? Now we’re here, with the Cup hanging right in front of us.” His voice grew harder, every word hitting like a punch. “They don’t think we can do it. They’re waiting for us to fold. But we’re not folding. Not tonight. Tonight, we show the world who we are.”

“You’ve got sixty minutes to play the game of your life. Sixty minutes to leave everything you’ve got on that ice. You’re not skating for yourself. You’re skating for the guy next to you. You’re skating for every bruise, every hit, every fucking moment that got us here. This is our night.”

“So, let’s go out there, and let’s take what’s ours.”

We might have won the game, but Sloane had just made it where…I’d won at life.

We were drunk. And horny. Very horny.

“This pussy. I want to die eating it,” he growled.