My girl.
She continues walking in my direction and I feel the fabric in the crotch of my pants rise until it can’t rise anymore as my cock finds the underside of the table and I swear it lifts it up off the ground just a bit.
I’m that fucking hard for her.
You can’t contain me with pants or whatever the hell this table is made out of. My cock will blast right through both just to get to her.
I’ve never in my life felt the urge to mate with someone as I do right now.
I want my baby inside her. I want her holding my baby up in my box next year come opening night. My little three month old that we conceive today.
Damn, what’s gotten into me?
And why do I feel such an urgent, pressing, uncontrollable need to get in her?
I see a motion out of the corner of my eye and I process it subconsciously.
It’s a man who just arrived and he’s running to one of the other tables, but my woman is right in his line of sight.
He looks like he’s fifty, but acts with the class of someone who’s less than five.
And in his attempt to get another grown man to sign some piece of paper no doubt he’s going to run right into my woman, possibly injuring her.
I have to stop it. I have to stop him.
My thighs and abs fire and as my chair falls back as I spring to my feet, the table falling to the side thanks to the upward pressure from my penis and my urgency to get the most direct line towards her.
I move swiftly, but assuredly toward her, and even though I’m six foot three and nearly two hundred twenty pounds, my size and speed coming at her like a freight train doesn’t scare her.
She just continues walking towards me as if the two of us moving together like a scene out of a movie makes complete sense…one of those kinds of movies I’ve never even consider watching.
But damn if I’m not living out the real life thing right now.
And just as I’m about to reach her the big man comes barreling in from the side and I hip check him right to the ground.
“Watch where you’re going,” I growl. “There are ladies here.”
“Sorry. Oh my gosh! Henrik! Can you sign my program?”
“I’ll give you a sign alright,” I say as I point toward the door. “Get with the program and get the fuck outta here until you learn how to act like a real man around a woman.”
“I’m…” he stutters but quickly slides backwards across the floor and then half stands as he scurries out of the room and back onto the streets of New York.
He’s lucky I only hip checked him and didn’t give him a cross check, like the ones you see where guys get sent flying into the boards.
But he’s a fan of ours and he was excited. There’s no need to hurt the guy, just to remind him how to act around a lady.
And he’ll never forget after that not so little reminder.
And I’m never going to forget this moment with her, and by moment I mean the one that’s about to come.
I reach down and take her little hand in mine, feeling a surge of energy shoot up my arm and then throughout my body as it freezes me. I swear my hair stands up a bit like the room is full of static electricity or something.
And my dick is still completely standing at attention.
I need to get out of here before some fan notices and posts it on social media.
But what’s more important isn’t getting my dick out of here, it’s getting it into her…and making that baby.
After my mind comes back to the room after leaving it when I felt the smoothness of her skin against mine, I grab her hand firmly, but carefully. She’s delicate, like a flower and she needs to be treated that way, especially by a man who’s much, much bigger than her.
I pivot on my heel and begin walking towards the exit the players use.
“Players only, Henrik. No fans,” our security guard Rocco says.
“She’s not a fan,” I say showing my teeth like a feral beast. “She’s with me and she’s mine.”
Rocco served three tours in Afghanistan at six foot nine and three hundred and fifty pounds. I have all the respect in the world for him and his service to the country, but right now the only service I’m thinking of is getting her out of here, away from these other people.
And servicing her with my mouth, tasting her sweetness before I bury my cock so deep inside her that when I erupt there’s no way she won’t be pregnant with my seed.
Rocco’s hands come up to his chest as he lifts the divider and steps to the side.
I snarl at him, a noise escaping me, and Rocco takes another step back as I put my body between his and hers as I escort her through the opening and then down the passage towards the trainer’s room.
Nobody is getting treatment right now, which means I can give her a very special kind of treatment…the one she deserves and the one I need.
CHAPTER 3
Hazel
I’m practically in a state of shock, still completely oblivious to what’s going on.
It’s like he pulled me out of that room like the place was on fire, and that’s exactly how I feel right now.
Suddenly I’m burning up…my body temperature soaring and these clothes seem suffocating.
Now is the time I should ask him what’s going on, where we’re going…hell, where are we!
Somewhere underneath The Garden in an area that people like me don’t ever get access to.
But right now I can’t even open my mouth as he whisks me away down the corridor until suddenly we stop and he pushes open a door, holding it open as I instinctively walk through as if my entire being is just on autopilot.
I’ve heard those cases where people get kidnapped and they actually go along with their kidnappers desires.
This is kind of like that, but this isn’t exactly a kidnapper. This is Henrik Magnusson. The Henrik Magnusson!
What is he going to bury me under The Garden like Jimmy Hoffa supposedly is underneath the New Jersey Meadowlands?
But maybe he’ll bury something inside me, or at least his lips on mine, but that’s beyond wishful thinking.
Or is it when he comes through the door behind me hurriedly and I feel my back against the wall as he looks down at me with intense eyes that tell me only one thing is on his mind.
“Who’s jersey do you have on?” his deep voice bellows out in the room. Didn’t he see it when he let me pass by the security guard? Or when he opened the door for me?
“Yours,” I whimper.
“Who’s?” the gravelly sound comes out again, echoing off the walls and reverberating through my core.
“Yours,” I say.
His hands take me by the hips and he spins me around as my hands come up and I throw them against the wall to steady myself as an, “uh,” whimper escapes me.
I look back over my shoulder and see him looking at his name across my back and the big number below it.
Suddenly his hand knifes my hair and he tugs it lightly, bringing my head back causing a moan to leave my lips.
He slides in right behind me and I feel his need pressing against me. His other hand shoots up out of nowhere as he gently cups my jaw as he inspects my face like it’s food and he hasn’t eaten in weeks.
Suddenly both hands drop to my hips, which arched back into his length, but he spins me around again facing him.
“What’s the name on the back of that jersey say?”
“Magnusson,” I say. “Henrik Magnusson.”
His head tips back as he looks up toward the ceiling as I hear him suck in a big lungful of air before his head comes back forward looking at me like he’s obsessed.
“Say my name,” he says.
“Henrik Magnusson.”
“And it’s on your jersey. The one you choose. The one you picked out. You wanted my mark on you. You wanted to possess my jersey so you could possess a little piece of me. A closeness. A proximity. Well how about the real thing? Because I want to possess you. Make you mi
ne. Put my cock in your box and then put you in my private box to watch all the games for the rest of my career, as my woman. To let the world know.”
“Uh huh,” I say my mind spinning. This can’t be happening. This kind of stuff never happens, especially not to me.
I’ve heard of Odell Beckham, Jr. and his women and how he can get any woman in New York that he wants, but I’ve never heard stories about Henrik running around sticking his dick in anything that moves. He’s known as a bad boy for sure, but more so for his play on the ice and his demeanor. He’s never in the papers about late nights, boozing, or things of that nature.
He gets out, for sure, but no one’s ever photographed him leaving some fancy restaurant with a woman…although I know many who would love nothing more than that.
But Henrik doesn’t give his love to anyone, or anything, other than hockey. Some say he’s obsessed, and I’m obsessed with him like quite a few women in this city, and I’m not just limiting that number to hockey fans.
But right now it seems he’s obsessed with me. And all these years he’s just been a fantasy, something unattainable.
But now that the moment is here, and it’s just appeared out of nowhere and so quickly, I have a real decision to make.
Live out my fantasy and maybe more…or walk out of here right now with a story to tell my grandchildren.
Screw that, I want my grandchildren to be his grandchildren!
This man is the most alpha being on the planet and to imagine having children with him, a family, and sitting in his box to watch games and dining with him on the best foods in the city?
Well that sure beats my Hitachi Magic Wand on the couch after watching him block shot after shot after shot and getting so excited I knock over my microwave popcorn and have to scrub the butter out of the carpet for days afterwards.
This is real and this girl isn’t about to blow a chance that literally never comes along…although from the bulge in his pants there’s definitely something I’d like to blow right now. Or at least part of it because there’s no way that entire thing is fitting in my mouth.
“Tell me you want to be mine. Not just to wear my jersey, but to wear a ring one day. A ring I give you that shows you are mine.”
“Yes. I want that.”
“You have to be sure…completely sure. Because once this starts there’s no going back. My need for you is feral and new, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I have no idea what we’re both going to experience when I let the animal inside of me out of its cage.”
“Let him out…and into me,” I say.
And just like that I feel his lips crash down on mine and this fantasy instantly becomes a fantasy no more.
CHAPTER 4
Henrik
Her lips taste even sweeter than I thought, the perfect compliment to the saltiness of her skin as I kiss down the side of her neck as my hands take her waist more possessively as I fight not to grab her even harder.
But I need her to know who she belongs to, not that there’s a single inch of doubt at this point.
And after eighteen years in the league I was beyond doubt that I would ever have sex with a fan. To have a hookup with what the boys call a pro ho, the kind of girl that only goes after professional athletes.
But this isn’t sex and it isn’t a hookup.
It’s way more than that and even thinking of it like that, let alone hearing it said out loud would be degrading to what we’re doing.
This is an immediate honest connection. No games, just straight to the point for two people who know exactly what they want…each other.
And a family because of it.
I’ve been celibate for years, believing the old boxing myth that it’s good for a man to abstain. It’s worked for me all these years, so why not stick with it I always told myself.
Her. That’s why.
There are over four million females in New York, with thousands more tourists passing through every day. I’d bet there are at least a couple million women over eighteen years old, yet I’ve never seen one like her. Never had one that affected me like this.
I reach for the end of my belt with one hand and push it back towards the buckle, unhooking it, before I change my grip and free it, causing my pants to fall to the floor.
But I never take my other hand off of her. I have to feel that smooth skin of her cheek, the pulsing I feel on the side of her neck, and the ample breast I feel underneath my grip when my hand makes its way down the replica of my jersey.
But I can tell it’s not a replica. It’s an original. She paid top dollar for this. She’s committed, just like I am to her.
She grabs the bottom of the jersey and lifts it up as I lean back so I can get a better view of her amazing body, but she’s got a white cotton T-shirt on underneath. It makes sense. Those jerseys can be scratchy.
“Damn, you are perfect,” I say as she lowers the jersey to the side, but keeps it in her hands.
I go to take it from her but she resists.
“I don’t want it to get dirty,” she says in between my mouth devouring hers.
“I’ll get you all the new ones you want…or better yet you can take them from our closet,” I say and she gasps as I take the jersey from her and fling it over onto the therapy table where the trainers work on us.
And I’m ready to get to work on that baby as I grab her belt and her hands quickly join me as we both fumble to get it undone and open and just as we do I jam my hand in my boxer briefs and take hold of my cock ready to pull it out the second her pants hit the floor so I can yank down her panties and bury my seed deep inside her.
Suddenly the door barges open and my first instinct is to put my hands in front of her crotch, even though her pants are only unbuttoned, but in place.
No one else will ever see what’s mine.
“Get the fuck out!” I yell. “Can you see this is occupied?”
“Sorry, man,” a voice says and the door starts to close but suddenly it opens again.
“Out!” erupts from deep inside the pits of my stomach and out through my thick chest reverberating there before leaving my lips.
“It’s the only time we have access to the room, Henrik. The Knicks and some ice skating people have it later,” the voice says, but the man keeps the door closed enough that he can’t see around the edge, nor does he try and peek. At least he knows what’s good for him because if he tried to look at my woman I’d lay him out so bad that he’d be the one needing a trainer.
Me? I don’t care. We get worked on by these guys all the time. Without them we wouldn’t even be able to play half the time. But no way any physio or anyone for that matter looks at what my woman has. Hell, I’ll learn how to deliver the baby myself if I have to, because I’m not allowing anybody to see what I’ve got.
But what I’ve got right now is a raging erection, no sight of what I know will be her perfect pussy yet, and trouble at the door.
My mind clicks back and a moment of clarity comes between my ears.
This isn’t right. She’s going to be my princess and my queen? She deserves so much better than this.
Yeah, it would be one hell of a memory and all that, but not for our first time. I know I’m already addicted to her and we’re going to be doing a lot of breeding in the future. The first time we have to do it right.
And as much as I hate to admit it, and how painful my balls are going to feel until that moment, this isn’t the right moment.
“Give me a minute, Gus,” I say.
“One minute, Henrik. It’s more than we’ve got, but you got it,” he says and the door closes.
We quickly get dressed again and I consider throwing myself in the laundry cart and having her push me out of here like she’s our new physic or something, but nobody’s going to fall for that. Plus it’s juvenile and degrading to both of us.
What we have is perfect, and as desperate as I am to get inside her right now we need to walk out of here with our heads held high, even th
ough word of this will spread.
If they talk about me, well I don’t care.
But nobody better talk about her, or I’ll make an example of them real quick.
Because nobody says anything about my woman, especially not locker room talk.
Nothing. I won’t tolerate it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “This isn’t what I intended,” I say.
Hockey Obsession: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 76) Page 2
