“Stop primping, you’re gorgeous!” Skylar yells, making me shrug as I put away the gel.
Who am I to argue with that? Turning out the lights, I walk through the bedroom to grab my phone before meeting Sky in the living room.
“Alright,” I sigh. “Let’s do this.”
“You sound like you’re off to a firing squad,” he chuckles, his arm threading through the crook of my elbow to drag me off.
I mean, it kind of feels like it. I love a crowd, but I hate when I’m treated like eye candy. I’ll be much happier when we get to go home.
“Promise me orgasms, and I’ll be happy,” I reply. “I won’t even pout that much.”
“Be a good little goalie, and I’ll fuck you till you pass out, and keep fucking that slutty little pussy until you wake up,” he says instead.
My cock stirs in excitement while my asshole tightens against the plug, making me moan softly.
“You’re so easy to please,” Skylar teases me as we get into the elevator.
Of course I am. I don’t need much, not as long as I have him.
CHAPTER TWO
KOEN
Note: next time, I need to make sure I don’t tell my agent when I leave town to see my parents.
They’re in the city of angels on vacation, and they begged me to come out to see them. My schedule is typically insane, but I caved because I knew I’d have a few days of downtime.
My plan was to do nothing but read and rot in bed in Minnesota. It goes to show that even the best laid plans have a tendency to go tits up. Instead, I’m now in a suit at a charity event. The goal is for the sports players in attendance to help loosen funds for the city’s youth programs by speaking to potential donors.
I know how important they are because I was once one of the kids who attended programs like this back home. My agent knows this, which is how she convinced me to come.
My lips lift into a practiced smile as I listen to a woman’s excited questions about hockey, and I respond in a way thatdoesn’t make her think I’m bored. I’m not, her questions are actually really good, but visiting with my parents always exhausts me.
They always seem to find every live nerve in my system to poke at it until I feel like I’m going to explode. My parents want to know when I’m going to settle down, because they want grandchildren. I haven’t come out to them yet, despite being thirty-two years old. It’s not that I don’t think they’d accept me, but instead because they’d immediately try to set me up with people.
Relationships aren’t something I’m interested in. Too many people want to date a hockey player for the thrill of it, or to use them. I’m also not home very much, which means that I’d constantly feel as if I need to apologize to anyone I’m with for doing my job.
No, it’s easier to stay single. I’m not a virgin, and I did have a small streak of time where I slept around when I was a rookie player. However, I stuck to betas only, and refused to spend too much time around alphas outside of my teammates. Even then, the words of my coach as a kid still ring loudly in my ears.
There are good men on my team. I know not one of them is a rapist. We all take care of each other when we go out, we fight for each other on the ice, and we’re really tight. That doesn’t keep me from keeping my personal shit private or smearing a line of alpha pheromone suppressant cream under my nose to ensure that I’m not influenced by alpha pheromones on or off the ice.
I’ve become more and more paranoid with each passing year, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“These programs are important for kids,” I say to the older woman in front of me. “I don’t know if I’d be playing professionally if I wasn’t introduced to hockey when I was younger. It kept me out of trouble and focused on what’simportant. I was too exhausted after practice to even think about sneaking out.”
“You sound like you were a dream kid for your parents,” she says with a grin.
“Hockey is expensive as a sport,” I admit, wincing. “While these programs help give kids a taste of the addictive nature of skating and the excitement of sinking a puck, it can be hard for parents to be able to fund it as a serious sport. I was lucky enough to get scholarships and I was able to walk or catch the bus to practice.”
“It sounds like I need to ask some more questions about where the money is going,” she says, pursing her lips.
“I’m not saying that this charity doesn’t have its heart in the right place,” I say with a wince. Shit. Why am I here? I’m definitely fucking this up.
“No, and I won’t say anything to the contrary,” she says. “However, there has to be something in place to make sure that kids can attend the programs. Bus passes, shuttles to events, etc. You have a perspective on this that is important, Koen. I’m here because I already plan to donate, but if I can offer some direction or insight into what needs to be funded, I will.”
Patting my arm with a nod, she bustles off to find one of the coordinators for the event to ask her questions.
“That was ballsy. I like it,” a smooth voice says behind me.
