Blocked (The Scoring Series)

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Chapter 1—One Night Stand


I lay on my back, and the redhead currently straddling my hips rode me harder than a professional bull rider in the championship ride. Her double-Ds bounced to the rhythm of her pistoning hips, and her long hair brushed across my chest hairs while her deep-red fingernails raked across my pecs.

My eyes rolled back in my head as she slammed down hard on my cock and ground her pelvis into mine.

Fuck. She was hot. Really hot.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

We’d been at it since early evening, and it had to be well after midnight. We’d taken a few breaks to pee and eat something, but I’d found out pretty fast that she wasn’t the type a guy wanted to hang out with and enjoy her company. Her body, yes, but carrying on an intelligent conversation, not happening.

Not that she wasn’t intelligent, but her topics of conversation all revolved around sex. And why talk about it when you can do it? Not to mention, she was batshit crazy. I figured that out within the first five minutes when she all but fucked me in the hotel bar.

I should’ve known better, but I was young and looking to party.

She’d walked into the bar of the hotel where I was staying wearing only a miniskirt, low-cut tank with no bra, and killer heels. No raincoat. It was thirty-four degrees out and freezing rain in Seattle. At first, I thought she was working the streets, but later I decided she was a tourist looking for a way to pass the time.

I’d arrived in town that morning. My hockey teammates were in California on a one-game road trip. Due to an injury at my position, I’d been called up from the minors last night and would meet up with them when they flew back into town sometime this morning.

I was going to the big leagues. My dream come true. The thing I’d fought all my life for. Scott Monet, the third-line center, had broken a leg last night and was out for the season. When I’d gotten the call, I’d been elated yet sad, but injuries were part of the game. We all lived with them.

And here I was in Seattle by myself and ready to party. This woman—Heidi? Hilda? Hannah? Whatever her name was—had been more than ready and willing to welcome me to my new life.

The team had put me up in a luxury hotel within blocks of the SHAC, which was the Sockeyes Hockey Athletic Center near downtown Seattle. The building housed the team’s practice facility and administrative offices.

After signing all the necessary paperwork, I’d driven to the hotel and ordered a drink at the bar. The rest of the evening had stretched out in front of me. I was bored.

When she’d walked in around five, I’d been nursing a beer and wondering what to do next. She sat down next to me and gave me a once-over. After a quick check of her hand for a wedding ring, I offered to buy her a drink. After all, she was smoking hot, and I was facing a night alone with my insecurities.

We moved to a booth in a dark corner and drank way more than one drink. She rubbed my dick under the table to the point where I had to either do her right there or get the fuck out of there. Since management probably wouldn’t appreciate their newest rookie’s face being plastered everywhere as he fucked some random woman in a hotel bar, I suggested we go to my room.

Her antics as I paid the bill and we left the bar had me doubting my decision, but I was young and horny, and my dick, as it often did, overrode what good sense I might possess. She’d been all over me as we walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Seconds later, we were naked on my bed and fucking like wild animals. We’d been in that state pretty much ever since.

Now it was—I glanced at the bedside alarm clock—four a.m., and I was wearing out and sobering up. Not to mention, I was currently sporting my last condom.

I helped her along so we could both come one more time. She looked tired, too, and I realized she wasn’t as young as I’d first guessed. She was probably in her late thirties. I enjoyed older women, so her age didn’t matter to me.

She glanced at her phone, something she’d been doing all night to the point of annoyance. “Oh, shit. It’s that late? I have to go,” she announced with urgency.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I was ready to be done with her. “I’ll call you a cab.”

“No.” She dug her claws painfully into my shoulders. “I don’t have enough time. You have to take me home. It’s not far.”

I frowned, not certain what her hurry was. She scrambled off the bed and began yanking on her clothes. Puzzled at her about-face, I got up, disposed of the condom, pulled on my jeans, threw on a T-shirt, and looked for my keys.

“Hurry up!” She stood near the door, impatiently tapping her foot.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

I sprinted after her as she bolted down the hallway for the elevator. We collected my car from the valet, and soon we were speeding down the side streets at her direction. I liked driving fast, and the streets were deserted this early in the morning, but she was taking the fun out of it with her constant bitching that I drive even faster.

Her house wasn’t far. In about ten minutes, we pulled up to a large house in a good Seattle neighborhood. Only then did it strike me. This was a family home, not the kind of place you’d expect to find a single woman. I had a very bad feeling about this.

Regardless, I didn’t ask questions. I wasn’t in the habit of screwing married women, and things weren’t looking good right about now.

“Thanks. Later. I have to go.”

The hair rose on the back of my neck, and I had the distinct impression something was wrong. “Are you married?”

Her expression in the dashboard light was one of guilt and fear. “I have to go. It’s been fun, but—” She didn’t finish her sentence but fumbled with the door in a frenzy to get out as car headlights appeared in my rearview mirror.

“Shit.” She glanced over her shoulder, her expression one of desperation.

“What’s going on?”

“My husband’s home early.” She leaped out of my car, then froze like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

I was ten kinds of a fool. She’d played me like a cheap guitar. I might be a player, but I didn’t sleep with married women. I’d seen the devastation caused by an unfaithful spouse in my own family, and I’d never destroy someone else’s family for a night of sex.

What happened next happened so fast it was a blur. I was yanked out of the driver’s seat by an incredible force and hauled to my feet. Before I had time to register what was happening, a fist slammed into my face. The sucker punch nearly knocked me out, and I went down. Hard. Hitting my ass on the concrete driveway and my head into the mud off to one side.

“You fucking bastard. What the fuck are you doing with Bria?” The angry voice sounded vaguely familiar, but my brain, in its confusion, wasn’t registering why. My jaw throbbed like the bass in a hard rock concert.

Bria? Wasn’t her name Heidi or something?

I blinked away the blurriness and focused on the man towering above me as I lay in the mud puddle next to the driveway. As the man’s face became clear, I gaped in stunned silence. A couple other faces were visible beyond him, all as stunned as I was.

Being a little loopy from his fist, I fixated on one thing. Why were my teammates here, and why were they glaring at me? I wasn’t putting two and two together. Bria stood off to one side, her hands covering her mouth and a horrified expression on her face.

“What? What are you guys doing here?” I said stupidly.

The guy who’d coldcocked me was one of my teammates, Jacques “Jock” Frontier, the backup goalie on the Sockeyes. The two guys behind him were also Sockeyes—Gage “Ziggy” Ziegler and Kaden Westbrook.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jock shot back. His gaze went from me to Bria and back to me. His hands were fisted, and he appeared ready to pummel me into dust.

My brain was still groggy, and I still wasn’t getting it. Nothing fit. Nothing clicked.

“I was giving her a ride home.”

Bria said nothing. She wasn’t going to give me any kind of help.

“From where?” Jock growled, but by the look on his face, he knew what we’d been doing.

Ziggy and Kaden pulled me to my feet, using their bodies as a wall of muscled steel between my teammate and me.

“I’m going to kill you,” Jock shouted, lunging for me again. The guys managed to hold him back. “That’s my wife.”