"Enough about your limited experience with hockey and show us what you think a puck bunny dresses like." This time, instead of just lightly tugging on the trench coat's belt, Lake unfastens it, letting it fall to the sides along with the coat's edges, exposing an almost naked Brooke.
The outfit itself is adorable. It looks like Brooke cut up a hockey jersey to make a strapless top that ends just below her ample breasts, revealing her flat stomach. The bottom half of the jersey hangs low on her curvy hips, barely covering her lady bits. I can see why she's wearing the trench coat now—one wrong move and she could accidentally flash the whole arena.
“Is that how you think puck bunnies dress?" I reach for the sides of her coat, not sure if I'm trying to get a better look at her outfit or cover her up. "At least tell us you're wearing underwear."
“In my research on hockey and puck bunnies, it says there are at least ten puck bunnies for each player waiting after every game. The odds are better if the puck bunny stands out from the others," she says, reaching for the sides of her coat, tugging it out of my hands before covering herself up and tying the belt. "And no, I'm not wearing any underwear. I wanted it to be authentic.”
“And just what will you do if one of the hockey players picks you to be his puck bunny for the night, because that outfit will definitely get you picked,” Lake asks.
“I don't know. I guess I could interview him for my novel.”
Lake and I burst out laughing, expecting Brooke to say she was joking and join in. But when she doesn't, we stop laughing, and I wonder how much sex she had with her ex-boyfriend if she thinks a horny hockey player will sit there and let her interview him while she's dressed like every hockey player's wet dream.
“So,” Lake clears her throat as if she's trying to hide her laughter. "Do you have a list of questions you plan to ask the puck bunnies and the lucky hockey player once you get him alone?"
Brooke begins rambling off a list of prepared questions she's planning to ask the puck bunnies while Lake struggles not to laugh at the absurdity of it all as I watch my fake fiancé skate toward the bench.
Damn, he's so hot. Pulling off this fake relationship might be more than I expected when all I can think about is how big his hands and feet are—knowing the rest of him is probably just as big.
As if he can read my mind, his gaze snaps to mine. With a wicked smile, he winks at me, and just like that, my panties are soaked.
This definitely isn't going to work.
four
Milo
Idon't think I'veever played hockey with a raging hard-on before. Sure, when I was younger, I would get a little hard from the excitement of the game and the puck bunnies waiting after the game, willing to let me do anything I wanted to them. But never a full-blown, hey, how you doing, throbbing in my jock strap, ready to burst out of my pants hard-on.
No, this new feeling is thanks to my incredibly sexy, fake fiancée, glaring at me every chance she gets. I'm not sure how I managed to get through the game with my cock fully erect, pressed against my hockey pads.
After the game, I quickly take a shower, eager to see Sea again. It wasn’t the best game I’ve ever played, especially with my sexy fake fiancée watching from the wives’ and girlfriends’ section.
I’ve never been in a relationship long enough to want the woman I’m dating to sit with the wives and girlfriends. It was never anything personal—I just never felt that way about someone I was seeing before. But with Sea, it feels different, like she was always meant to be there. These strange feelings are messing with my mind and hurting my game. I need to snap out of it before I do more damage to my professional career. Besides, it’s just fake with Sea—I remind myself.
"Thanks for waiting for me." I step out of the locker room and see Sea sitting on a small bench in the hallway, waiting for me. "We need to make one stop first."
“What do you expect from your fake fiancée?" she shrugs, stands, and walks over to my side. "Besides, I need to protect you from all those evil puck bunnies who want to suck your cock.”
"Very funny." I can't help but smile at her ridiculous assessment of my love life.
“So, where are we heading?"
"To sign autographs. Where else? It's what I always do after a game."
“Ah, I see. Signing autographs is code for getting girls' phone numbers." Sea lifts her hands, making the universal air quotes. "Won't it seem strange if your fiancée," she again uses those damn air quotes, "is with you while you're collecting numbers? I can wait here for you if you'd like."
“Like hell you'll wait here for me. I'm really signing autographs, not trying to pick up women, especially in front of my fiancée—fake or not.”
She wisely looks ashamed of her accusations. "I guess I don't really know you. Besides, some guys are like that. They claim to love one woman, while hooking up with anyone who looks at them."
What kind of assholes has she been dating?
I don't realize I said those words out loud until I hear her reply. "The kind that will stick their dick in anything that moves and still claim to love me." The sadness in her voice makes me want to punch the asshole or assholes who did that to her.
I'm also pissed off that this broken-sounding woman has replaced my bratty little Miss Goody Two-Shoes.
"Fuck that," I growl, grabbing her hand and pulling her along as I head to the signing area of the arena. Once I sit down at the table, I pull Sea onto my lap while I sign autograph after autograph, making sure everyone sees she's mine.
