“No phones in the locker room, Leslie, or I’m fining you,” Coach says.
Can he do that?
I look up. He’s already undressed and in his workout shorts, tying on his runners. “What the fuck? Since when is that a rule?”
He checks the imaginary watch on his wrist. “Since when I fucking said so.”
A bunch of guys covertly store their phones. I glare at the back of him as he struts off to the gym. “What the hell? Are we just gonna take this cruelty lying down?” I ask the room. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
Stacey laughs. “Cruelty? That’s a stretch, Jack. You won’t die from not having your phone in your hand for a few hours. Lots of hockey clubs do it. Helps with focus.”
“Bet you would like to take it lying down,” Casey says in my ear.
“Fuck you, Casey.” I wasn’t thinking about that, finally, for two seconds. Now I am. Can a hard-on switch its object of desire? If not, I’m the first. I’ve gone from dying over Rhett’s hot comment to having images of the night Mercy and I spent together, popping up like an annoying fucking Jack-in-the-box.
I toss my phone in my bag and head to the gym where I choose bike. I’m not getting on any piece of cardio equipment that makes me stand upright. Of course, Coach is taking a light jog. I start up the machine and move my legs as much as I can, which isn’t much at this point. It’s a good thing the goal is to move and nothing else.
My eyes drift to Coach’s ass. So do a lot of eyes in fact and a foreign sensation crawls over me. I don’t like their eyes on him, okay? Bunch of perverts. Also, my dick hasn’t gone back to sleep so I either need to give it a subtle but painful pinch or think of someone else.
I choose my go-to, NHL star Jonathan Knight from the Chicago Bears—well, unless he gets traded to Colorado now that his contract has expired—but nothing. Nada. I sift through some of my other favorite hockey players and celebrities with the purpose of getting my mind off Mercy and my dick only perks with interest at one.
Rhett.
Yeah, Rhett. Haven’t fantasized about him in some time. After our breakup, I got by envisioning all kinds of wild scenarios including but not limited to him abducting me and locking me up in a fancy room and only taking me out to fuck. God, am I a heathen or what?
He was a barbarian in bed though. I loved it. He’d throw me around like a flipping rag doll and shove his dick into my lubed-up hole and then pound me into the next day. I’d feel so used and content as he’d baby the fuck outta me afterward, combing his fingers through my hair and massaging my feet.
Sometimes he’d toss me over his shoulder and …
No. I can’t go down that road again. How fucked up is it that I’m choosing between my ex or my … new ex? No, Mercy’s not an ex. He’s a fuck that didn’t go away. The anger finally does it. The blood leaves my cock to fuel the rage within me instead. I fall for all the wrong guys. No more hockey players and that includes coaches. When I do find a man way into the future as an established NHL veteran, he’ll be my biggest fan, cheering from the sidelines with our baby and a giant foam hand. That’s right. I’m gonna be the Rhett in my scenario.
For now, it’s either Coach or Rhett or pinch my own dick.
I pinch my own dick. “Ouch!”
“What’s wrong with you, Leslie?” Dash leans in to ask from the bike next to me.
Too many things to explain right now. “I need to get laid.”
Coach almost fucking trips over the air. Yeah, the same guy who displayed the timing and agility of a hockey savant. Can’t be coincidence. He’s gotta be eavesdropping and if my powers of deduction are correct, he doesn’t like the idea of me getting laid. Time for a little payback from last week.
“Wanna hit up Gabby’s?” Gabby’s is one of the local bars in Kelowna. “We won’t drink, and we’ll be home in plenty of time for curfew,” I say loud enough that Coach will know that’s for his benefit.
Dash looks between the two of us and shakes his head with a look I know meansfire, Leslie. You’re playing with fire. “Yeah, I’m down. What do you think, boys?” he says.
There are several “hell yeahs” and head nods.
The treadmill comes to a screeching halt and Mercy saunters over to me and Dash where we sit up in our saddles like we’re riding fine steeds rather than stationary bikes at the incredible pace of a quarter of a mile per hour.
Mercy’s seething. Awesome. “If a single player violates any rule, I’m holding you two responsible.”
I smile as though I’m unaffected by his slick skin and flushed cheeks when really, I’m going to have to pinch my dick again. I salute him. “Aye, Captain.”
There are no rules against cheekiness.
Yet.
He narrows his eyes before he makes a sharp turn and strides out of the gym. “Guess if he’s done, we’re done too,” I say turning off my bike.
