by Mary Smith
Table of Contents
Roster
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Next Installment
About the Author
Copyright 2017 © Gone Writing Publishing
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New Hampshire Bears’ Roster
Coach: Taden Long
Forwards:
15 – Hamilton Baer*
56 – Alden Brockman
11 – Ladd Hanes
28 – Edgar Hopp
81 – Zerrick Justice
88 – Finlay Mackey
67 – Gage McLoyd
16 – Vance Pemberton
53 – Jarvis Richter
72 – Remington Rosin
65 – Kyson Wick
86 – Bas Zorn
Defensemen:
6 – Cabel Dirks
4 – Keaton Jaco
32 – Walker Lange
2 – Dag Limon
5 – Ivan Rodin
7 – O’Dell Tillman
57 – Shade Wooten
Goalies:
50 – Teo Elgin
33 – Nathan Paxton
* - means Captain
Table of Contents
Roster
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Next Installment
About the Author
Chapter One
Alden
I SIT ON the bench and watch my teammates on the ice. My legs bounce up and down as I wait for the shift change. I need to get my frustration out.
I’m sexually frustrated.
I jump the wall and skate with all my might toward the puck. I slam the opposing player into the boards. I get a rush when I’m on the ice – especially when I hit people.
The final buzzer goes off and I’m ready to hit the bar. Finding pussy is on my mind now. The guys are all chatty and happy from our win. The tension in my body is making it hard for me to think straight.
“Who’s hitting the bar with me?” I ask my teammates after showering.
“I’ll go.” Nathan speaks up and buttons his shirt.
“Count me in.” Bas’ English accent calls out from across the locker room.
“What about you, big guy?” I slap Hamilton’s bare shoulder. I’m always teasing the captain, he loves his wife a lot and never goes to the bars with us single guys. Actually, he didn’t go a lot before he got roped into marrying the coach’s daughter. Who am I kidding? Those two were meant to be together.
“No.” He narrows his glare. “I’m going home to Janan.”
“Teo?” I turn to our backup goalie. “You want to go home and change dirty diapers or come out with me?”
Teo shakes his head. “My girlfriend and daughter are waiting for me.”
“You all are lame ass pussy-whipped males.” I announce loudly.
“Brockman.” Coach Long barks out my name. “Shut up.”
“Yes, sir.” I mumble and go back to getting ready, so I can go find some female to spread her legs for me.
NATHAN, BAS, AND I hit The Vault first. It’s the top nightclub in Manchester and my favorite spot to get laid. The guys made sure I had my own vehicle. I enjoy car sex. It’s quick, and it means I can go through more than one girl. It helps relieve my tension.
Actually, I just love sex. I have since my first time. I was fourteen, and it was our neighbor’s daughter. She was hot. Well as hot as one can be as a teenager with braces. I wasn’t much to look at either. I was all arms and legs. We did it in her garage, and it was over quickly.
I’ve learned a thing or two since then.
I grab a beer for the guys and me. Nathan grabs a table on the VIP second floor. I like the high vantage point. It gives me a whole view of the fine pieces of ass on the dance floor and walking around.
“There’s a lot of good ones,” I shout over the bass.
Bas shrugs. “They’re all the same.”
“No, they are not.” I correct him. “Some are hairy, some have brazilians, some with landing strips—”
“Shut up.” Nathan cuts me off. “He’s talking about they’re all drunk, horny girls.”
“My favorite flavor.” I smirk.
“How have you not caught an STD yet?” Nathan asks.
“I wrap my cock up tight.” I nod. I never stick it in without a condom. It’s one of my rules.
I like rules. Even more to break them but not my sex rules or relationship rules.
I enacted the rules when I was eighteen and was drafted into the PHL. My first five seasons I bounced around the league until I found a home here in Manchester. I like it here. Almost as much as I love Montreal. Canada is the greatest country in the world and being French-Canadian is even better. The females love when I speak French to them.
It’s a panty dropper.
The guys are talking as I’m trying to find my target. I refuse to leave here without having a couple of girls. Maybe at the same time? Wouldn’t be a first for me. I continually scan the crowd but nothing looks good. It’s making me more frustrated and I give up.
“I’m leaving,” I tell the guys who all seem shocked by my abrupt announcement.
“Why?” Bas asks.
“Just because.” I down my beer and head out before anyone else can ask any more questions.
I drive around the city for almost an hour before I unlock the door of my house.
“I’m home,” I yell out.
“I’m here.” Amara calls from the kitchen. “I’ve got food.”
Those are the only words I needed to hear. I race to the kitchen. “I love you, Amara.”
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and sets down a plate of grilled chicken and a ton of vegetables.
“I thought it would be
steak.” I pout.
“Chicken is healthier, Bro.”
I groan. “I know you’re studying to be a nurse, but am I going to have to eat healthy the entire time?”
“Yes.” She kisses my cheek. “Just remember you’re my favorite bro.”
“You’re my favorite sister.”
I can’t be mad at her. My twenty year old sister is my life, besides my mama. Amara and I have been bonded since the first time I held her. When she was sick I would read to her in the hospital. All through her chemo treatments I would play games with her, keep her laughing, and even help her with her school work. She was diagnosed with leukemia at age five by age sixteen she was in remission. Thankfully, there have been no more occurrences.
“I saw the game. How many females did you sack afterward?”
I smirk. I keep no secrets from her. She’s aware of how much I like sex. Well, love sex. “I had none.”
“Again.” She sits down across from me. “What’s going on?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Is it because of Baylor?” She rests her chin on the heel of her hand, staring at me.
“She told me no.” I push the plate away. “It bothers me.”
“Grow up, Buttercup.” She barks at me.
“Don’t start.” I hiss.
“Oh does poor, handsome Alden Brockman get his feelings hurt because a female doesn’t want to be part of his cesspool?” She sarcastically snips.
I flip my middle finger at her.
“You know I’m right.” She sings. Hopping off the chair she heads up to her room.
I finish up the dinner she made for me and go to bed.
Alone.
I SKATE AROUND the rink a couple of additional times before stopping with the team in front of Coach Long. I like Coach. He doesn’t beat around the bush. He can be a prick at times but overall he’s a great guy.
As he dismisses practice, Nathan, who just came back this week from three broken fingers, asks if I’m going to do any weight training.
“I should.” I slap my stomach. “These godlike abs aren’t going to last if I don’t work them out.”
“I’ll join you.” Shade offers.
“Cool.”
I know Shade is just avoiding home. I actually feel bad for the guy. He got a girl knocked up, married her, and then the baby died as she gave birth. I’d figure by now they’d be divorced. Truthfully, I thought his wife was a gold digger. I still can’t rule out that particular possibility. However, I know Shade. He’s a good guy and did the right thing by marrying Janessa. The death of their son was hard on Shade. I still think it is.
The three of us hit the weights and we’re joined by Bas, Vance, Remington, and Cabel. There’s a lot of ribbing going on, mainly from me. I’ve always been the jokester of the team. Amara says it’s because I want all the attention. She’s not completely wrong – especially the attention of women.
As the guys and I spend the next couple hours training, I try to avoid the thoughts of me not having sex for the past two weeks. Trust me. I know I’m not getting any and my right hand is growing tired of doing the job. Hell, I’m tired of it.
I tell the guys I’ll see them later and run to shower and change. After I’m dressed, I check my phone and almost drop it when I see a text message from Baylor.
Baylor: Could you stop by the shop today? If you’re in town.
“Yes.” She has finally come around and wants my cock again. I run to my car and drive to her shop like a race car driver chasing the checkered flag.
As I walk in there’s a kid spinning around on a stool in the reception area. “Hey, Buddy,” I say and he stops spinning.
“Welcome to Ink Palace.” He smiles. “Do you have an appointment?” He picks up a pen and looks down at the appointment book.
“I’m here to see Baylor.” I inform him.
The young guy looks up. “You’re here to see my mom.”
Mom? Baylor’s a mom? This kid has to be at least ten or so. Baylor didn’t seem to be that old. “Yes, my name is Alden Brockman.”
The boy’s eyes go wide. “Like the hockey player?”
“Yep, that’s me.” I can see the excitement bouncing around in his eyes. “Are you a hockey fan?”
Before he can answer, Baylor comes out from the back of the shop.
“Kace, don’t you have homework?” Her voice is like angel’s singing in heaven, and it makes my cock twitch.
“Mom, this is Alden.” He points to me.
“I know. Now do your homework.” She smiles at him. “Alden, can we talk back here?” She turns toward her office.
“Nice to meet you, Kace.” I hold out my fist and he bumps it with his and has a big grin.
When I walk into Baylor’s office, the memory of her spread out on the desk hits me hard. “What’s up? Miss me yet?”
“Listen, Alden, you’re not here for sex. Push the thought out of your mind. You’re here because I need a favor. A huge favor.” She looks nervous, and I feel as if something is truly wrong.
“What is it?” I ask, curious on what favor she needs.
“First I want to thank you for promoting the shop on your social media.”
She sits on the edge of her desk. Her tattoos shine brightly. Her left arm has a massive flower garden with a mix of cherry blossom trees. Her right arm has a black and white variety of mandalas. Each intertwine with the other. Even though her legs are covered today I have seen them bare. Her left leg is covered with Disney princesses and characters. On her right is a variety of movie actors and characters. Her shiny, black hair is twisted up in a tight bun. Her bright brown eyes seem brighter than I remember when she was under me.
“You’re welcome.”
“Because of it I’m getting a lot more business and INK America has contacted me.” She hops off her desk to cross the office. She hands me a piece of paper.
I glance over the printed email. INK America, the biggest tattoo magazines in the United States, wants to do a photoshoot with me and showcase Baylor’s work on my arms.
“What’s the favor?” I ask handing the paper back to her.
“Well, the big thing is – how much is this going to cost me?” She bites down on her pierced lip.
“What do you mean?”
“I know I have to go through your agent or manager, or whatever they’re called. But I’m hoping you’ll give me a...discount.”
I hold back my smirk. “Typically, I charge a lot.” This is a lie. I don’t charge near as much as some places are willing to pay.
“Damn, I knew it.” She palms her forehead. “Alden, this could really help me a lot. I could put Kace through private school if the clients keep coming as they are now.” She pauses dropping her hand. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” This time I do smirk.
“If...if you want…” She takes a deep breath. “If it means Kace can go to a better school, I’ll have sex with you if you’ll do the shoot.”
My smirk falls. Now, I feel like an asshole. I don’t want to have sex with her because she’s trying to better her kid’s life. What kind of guy would that make me?
“Bay, no. You’re not going to have sex with me. I’m not a fucking asshole.”
Her shoulders deflate. “Thank you, Alden.”
“And don’t worry about my fees. I’ll do this pro bono. But you’ll have to do it when I’m in town.” I hold out my hand.
“Deal?”
“Deal.” She firmly shakes my hand, beaming
“How old is Kace?” I ask as she walks out of the office and I follow.
“He just turned ten.”
“You don’t look old enough to be his mother.” I half tease but really trying to edge out how old she is.
“I’m twenty-five.” She states. “I was a teenage mother with no reality show.”
Before I can say anything else Kace walks up to us. “I’m done, Mom.” He hands her several papers.
“Kace, you play hockey?” I
ask.
“No, we can’t afford it.” He plainly states and Baylor pushes on his shoulder.
I’m not sure what to say, but I remember how hard it was for Mom to get equipment for me.
“You know how to skate?”
Kace nods.
“Why don’t you come be my guest this weekend? There’s a game Sunday. You and your mom both can come.” I stare at Baylor.
“Please, Mom.” Kace begs. “Can we?”
“Um...sure why not.” Baylor nods.
“Great.” I smile.
Chapter Two
Baylor
“KACE, LET’S GO.” I bang on the bathroom door. “Did you drown, son?”
“No, Mom.” I can hear the exasperation in his tone.
I go back into the kitchen to ensure I pack him a healthy lunch. I write a note to him as I do every day. I give him silly quotes or disgusting facts. Sure, I could write loving, mushy notes but Kace enjoys our silly sense of humor.
“Mom, let’s go. We’re going to be late,” Kace hollers as he stands at the front door.
I zip up his lunch bag and race to the door, grabbing my items along the way. I take a deep breath as I drive Kace to school. He doesn’t seem to mind, but I know those bitches are staring at me and my tattoos. I truly don’t care what people think of me, but I know it’s affecting Kace. I’ve taught him to treat everyone the same, but the truth is...people are judgmental assholes. At least some of them.
After I drop him off, I grab a cup of coffee at The Latte Bean and open up the shop. This morning I have five interviews. My shop is big enough for three more artists and considering the load I have it’ll be nice to get some help. I may have profiled the potential artist already. They’re all females with numerous years of experience. An all-female shop has been a dream of mine.
I grew up in Columbus, Ohio. My parents were professors at Ohio State University and pillars of the community. I tried to live up to their expectations, but it wasn’t for me. I never had friends. I stayed by myself drawing and sketching in my book. I always dreamed of being a tattoo artist.
