Snap Shot (Cayuga Cougars Book 1)

by V. L. Locey

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by V.L. Locey

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  By

  V.L. Locey

  An LGBTQ Erotic Novella

  Mario McGarrity has been around the block – and rink – more than a few times. He’s creeping up on retirement age, has some dings and dents, and says what’s on his mind. Not exactly what most would consider a luxury ride, but his beautiful Lila – the transgender woman who’s stole his heart - loves him like no other woman ever has, despite a little rust here and there. Everything is good – no, great – aside from the distance issue, until a surprise from Lila’s past crops up and moves in with her. Can Mario be the family man Lila needs, or is this one game the old vet is unable to skate in?

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file-sharing peer-to-peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of U.S. copyright law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any other way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A V.L. Locey LGBTQ Hockey Romance

  Snap Shot – Cayuga Cougars #1

  Copyright © 2016 V.L. Locey

  E-book ISBN: 978-0-9850922-8-3

  First E-book Publication: April 6, 2017

  Cover design and formatting by © Rêverie Design and Formatting

  Edited by: Rebecca Hill

  Proofread by: G. McLean

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2016 by Rêverie Design and Formatting

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Gone Writing Publishing M/F Backlist Books and Upcoming Releases

  Pink Pucks & Power Plays (To Love a Wildcat #1)

  A Most Unlikely Countess (To Love a Wildcat #2)

  O Captain! My Captain! (To Love a Wildcat #3)

  Reality Check (To Love a Wildcat #4)

  Language of Love (To Love a Wildcat #5)

  Final Shifts (To Love a Wildcat #6)

  Clean Sweep (Venom #1)

  Twirly Girl (Venom #2)

  Tape to Tape (Venom #3)

  Angle Play (Venom #4)

  Roster Addition (A To Love a Wildcat novella)

  Coming 5/3/17… Playmaker (An F/F Venom series novella)

  Coming 11/1/17… Flow (Venom #5)

  Independent LGBT Releases

  On Broadway (Part of the 2016-2017 Changing on the Fly M/M charity hockey anthology)

  Hockey & Holly Boots

  Point Shot Trilogy Boxed Set

  Coming 2017

  Coming 6/1/17… Goaltender’s Penalty

  Coming 7/12/17… Changing Lines – Harrisburg Railers #1 – Coauthored with Rj Scott

  Coming 8/1/17… Open Net (Cayuga Cougars #2)

  Coming 9/27/17…Finding the Edge (Brighton Wood Blades #1)

  Coming 10/17…Rookie Moves (Part of the 2017/2018 Changing on the Fly M/M charity hockey anthology)

  Coming 12/1/17…First Season – Harrisburg Railers #2 – Coauthored with Rj Scott

  To the readers who loved Mario and Lila as much as I did and let me know they wanted more. This story is for all of you with many hugs and deepest appreciation for your support and encouragement.

  For all parents, old and new, who struggle to do it right.

  If you want to keep up with all the latest news about my upcoming M/F and M/M erotic releases, sign up for my newsletter by visiting my website:

  http://vlloceyauthor.com/

  Driving from Cayuga to Scranton sucked. Having a raging ache in my lower back also sucked. Training camp had sucked, our first preseason game had sucked, and my old boots sucked like a brand new Kirby. This seat sucked and the radio station I had driven into really sucked. What the hell had happened to country music? There used to be a time you’d turn on the radio and know right off who was singing. “That’s Johnny or Merle or George or Tammy,” you’d say. Now every damn group sounded like the previous one. Also, since I was pitching a good Scottish-Italian bitch, if I had to hear one more song about a truck, beer, or a chick in tight jeans, I just might take a sharp turn off the road and embrace the nearest oak tree at ninety m.p.h.

  Wow, someone’s in a mood. Maybe you should just turn around now and spare her your bullshit.

  There were a couple of thousand reasons why I should have kept my ass in New York State, and yet here I was, aching back and gummy eyes, with another hour and a half to drive. My mother used to say that she thought the doctors had dropped me on my head after I’d been born and never told her about it. Most days I agreed. There had to be a reason a man of mediocre skill and thirty-six years of age was still playing hockey in the minor leagues. Let’s not touch upon the stupidity of making this trip when I would just have to turn around tomorrow morning and return to Cayuga by noon.

  I glanced at the rosary dangling from the rearview of my Highlander – because what other kind of vehicle would a McGarrity drive – and mentally crossed myself. If my old priest could see with whom his former altar boy was consorting, he’d drag me to the confessional before I could spit. I’d confess my sins, do my penance, and head right back to Scranton. Because Lila was there and I had become so addicted to her that I’d drive from Cayuga to Aberdeen just to watch her boil fucking eggs, the slight glitch about the ocean in the way be damned.

  I rolled my shoulders and moaned. The bruise across my kidneys ached like a fucking rotten molar. Reaching for the phone resting in the holder next to a large cup of sweetened black pulled a groan from me.

  “Fucking Danielson,” I winced as white-hot pain speared me in the back. “I’ll put your wax on next time we meet, you prick.” That chirp was good. I hoped I could remember it when we faced the Broncos the next time. The Binghamton Broncos center was on my radar. We’d play those twats again soon, and I would pay him back for the crosscheck he’d given me.

  Keeping one eye on the road, I lifted the phone, ran my thumb over the screen, and let it drop back into the cup holder. Despite a suspected bruised kidney, lack of sleep, and my generally miserable demeanor, there was no way I wasn’t seeing her. Even if I only got twelve hours, that was twelve hours to soothe the aches and pains as only she could.

  “No, no, absolutely not,” I snapped, and changed the station before one more word from whoever the shit it was croo
ning about his truck could assault my ears. “Sweet Mary Madonna, help me find Conway.”

  Late September winds rustled around the little house Lila owned. As I slid out of my ride, a caress of a breeze blew around me. The yards of tartan material around my waist lifted enough to let the air tickle my balls. I arched my back. Pain radiated outward like a sunburst. The neighborhood was quiet even though it was only a little after nine at night. I hauled my sorry ass up the tiny walkway to her front door, my old Cougars duffel dangling off my shoulder. Using the key she’d given me over the summer, I let myself in. Soft smells of potpourri met me as soon as I stepped into her little foyer. My bag slid from my shoulder and I tipped my head to the left. A smile crept over my face as I heard her humming from the kitchen.

  I was six foot four and weighed two hundred and twenty-six pounds. Creeping was not exactly my forte. Still, I managed to make it to the entryway of her tidy kitchen. I caught a whiff of something cooking at the same time my gaze settled on her moving around the room. My girl was tall, dark, and sexy as hell. She wore a silky shawl with big yellow flowers and white fringe over a slinky yellow nightgown. I could see the outline of her body under that satiny yellow shift. My cock stirred. Lila swayed and stirred a pot on the stove, humming along to Gladys Knight and the Pips. She always had a little TV on the counter set to a 60s Motown music channel. I leaned against the doorframe, smiled, and folded my arms over my chest despite the pain lifting my arm caused.

  “You making that killer primavera again?”

  She shrieked, dropped her spoon into the pot, and spun around to glare at me. I waggled my eyebrows as her hand flew up to rest on her throat.

  “What are you doing, sneaking up on a woman like that?” Lila asked, her voice a deep, throaty purr that made me itchy all over. Her dark brown eyes flared when she got a good look at me. “What did you do to your hair, Seamus?”

  God, I loved how she used my middle name all the time now. She’d started calling me Seamus over the summer, claiming that it sounded more erotic to whisper Seamus when she was lost in a climax as opposed to Mario. I couldn’t argue with that at all. This woman could call me Stupid McAssMunch and I’d fall down to kiss her polished toenails. The way my name rolled off her tongue drove me mad. Shay-Mus. My dick started to fatten. I lifted a hand to scrub my palm over my buzzed head. Her lips flattened.

  “I cut it,” I informed her. Her hand slid from her throat to rest on her breasts. My gaze followed her hand, as I suspected she’d known it would. “You look good, baby.”

  “You look simply terrible. What did you do to your nose?” Her plump lips lost that angry set. I wrinkled my nose just to feel the crunch of a fat scab on the bridge.

  “High stick in practice,” I told her, then jerked my head to indicate she should come to me. She did, on feminine yellow slippers with little flat heels. My gaze locked on to her tits and the way they moved as she walked. She stopped just shy of her chest brushing mine. My arms fell to my sides.

  “You poor thing,” she cooed, and cupped my cheek. “Why do you play that violent game?”

  “It’s all I know.” Her hand was as soft as a rose petal. A light floral scent rose from her palm. I inhaled as deeply as I could. “I missed you. Let’s go to bed.”

  Lila slipped closer, her breasts pushing against me. A moan of pure pleasure escaped me when she wiggled her groin against mine. Her cock was as hard as mine was.

  “What you need is a long soak in some of my oils.”

  I slid an arm around her and jerked. Now she was where I wanted her. Flush to me, with her mouth slightly open and her lips painted dark red. Her makeup was perfect, her smell sinful, her body a sensual treat. Kissing her was natural and easy. I didn’t need to bend down like I did for most women. She was nearly as tall as I was. My tongue darted out to taste the seam of her lips.

  She pulled free before I could get a good taste. “Soak first, then we’ll take care of this.” She grabbed my dick, the material of my kilt mildly abrasive. I sucked in a sharp breath as she stroked my cock a time or two.

  “I didn’t come here for a bath.” I reached for her and she danced in reverse. My gaze dropped. Lust roared through me as I eyed her erection.

  “I’m aware. You came here for my sweet loving and some of my primavera,” she said, then left the kitchen. Like a well-trained Doberman, I followed her, my senses vying to soak in all they could before I had to roll out tomorrow and leave her for who-fucking-knew how long again.

  “I wish you were closer,” I mumbled after entering her bathroom. The bathtub was filling, and steam hung low in the powder room. I’ll confess that when I first started visiting Lila, all the fluff and frills that she decorates with made me feel uncomfortable. Dating Lila did too, at first, if I’m being honest. While I’d been hot for her since the first time we met, I’d never been with a person like Lila before. I’ve known that I’m bisexual for years, and have had my fair share of lovers, mainly black women but a few men of color here and there. It was Lila who helped me to understand who she was, and in doing so she helped me to understand who I truly was. Lila is an all-you-can-eat buffet, perfect for a man of my tastes.

  “I know, but we talked about that over the summer. There’s no way someone as fabulous as I am would be accepted up there,” she replied as she drizzled some oil into the tub.

  I couldn’t stop staring at her ass through that yellow nightgown as I stripped. All was good until I tried to pull my shirt over my head.

  Lila spun from the tub at the hissing sound I made. “Seamus, what happened here?”

  She hustled over to touch my lower back. I jerked from her fingertips.

  “Crosscheck,” I grunted as I struggled to free myself from my T-shirt.

  “Oh, honey,” she whispered, then bent to press a light kiss to the area. “Let me help.” Her touch was light but strong as she divested me of my shirt then assisted me as I lowered myself into the steaming bath. She moved around the bathroom, talking away as I slowly slid deeper into the water. “Lift your head.”

  A bath pillow slid under my head. I glanced up and got a smile from her.

  “You’re too good to me,” I said, and meant it.

  “I am fully aware of that fact.” She gave me a soft kiss, then straightened. “You soak. I’ll bring you some dinner when it’s done.”

  “Thanks, baby.” She wiggled a long finger at me, then disappeared. My eyes drifted shut. I breathed in lavender, eucalyptus, and several other scents rising from the hot water lapping at my chest. Sleep snuck up on me. I jumped slightly when Lila placed a hand on my damp biceps.

  “Can you sit up for me?”

  I did, with care, and was happy to find the pain had eased a bit. Lila placed a platter on the counter, then pulled a little padded stool from the corner. I watched sleepily from within the claw foot tub, my eyes still heavy. She grabbed the plate and sat down, one long leg crossing over the other.

  “Just how you like it,” she said, and fed me a forkful of her primavera.

  The pasta was perfectly al dente and the sauce rich with garlic, basil, and oregano. Even the zucchini and bell pepper chunks snapped when chewed.

  “Just like mama makes,” I said around the mouthful.

  Lila glowed at the compliment, then dabbed at the corners of my mouth with a cloth napkin.

  “You’re going to spoil me and I’ll never leave.”

  “That’s my plan, handsome,” she responded before another forkful came at me.

  We talked about nothing and everything as my bath got cold. When the last bite of primavera was gone, she placed the empty dish on the counter and looked down at me lying in her tub. I could see wheels turning behind her pretty brown eyes.

  “Why don’t I add a little hot and you can join me?” I ran my fingers over the surface of the water and gave her a randy wink.

  “And run dirty hockey player water all over my carpet? I do not think so, Seamus. Let’s get you dried off and into bed. I’ll join you there.” Sh
e snapped a fluffy green towel from a rack.

  “You’re breaking my heart here,” I sighed while pulling the plug.

  Getting up was a little easier than sitting down had been. Lila circled around me, patting and wiping, clucking like a worried hen over this bruise and that cut. I silently watched, enjoying the attention as well as her gentle way.

  “I don’t like the looks of this big nasty back here,” she said, and tried to blot some water off the crosscheck mark. I grunted in pain. Her mouth set into a slash. “Did your team doctor look at this?”

  “Yeah. He told me to go home and ice it.”

  I padded out of the bathroom, dick swinging in the breeze. I knew my way through her home. I had spent the whole summer there, getting to know her and her house intimately. Her bedroom was down the hall from the bathroom and was just as girly. Duvets, fancy pillows of different sizes and textures, and lampshades with scarves draped over them filled the room with a soft pink hue. I saw that my duffel now rested at the foot of the bed. Lila had turned the covers down and pulled the drapes shut. A potpourri pot on the dresser filled the room with perfume. The scent was new. I walked to her bureau. Bottles and decanters of cologne, powder pots, earrings and bracelets all littered the top of the dresser. Next to the simmering electric pot laid a bag filled with dried flowers, tiny seashells, and little scent-filled beads.

  “Do you like it?” Lila enquired as she swept into the bedroom. “It’s called Seaside Seduction.”

  “I liked the purple bag with the birds on it better.”

  “Well, if I had known you were coming I would have filled my pot with your favorite scent.”

  She stopped right in front of me, popped out a hip, and handed me an ice pack and two aspirin. I tossed the little white pills into my mouth, then swallowed.