Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Kate Willoughby

  Indi, that evil woman, timed her ministrations to Randi’s count, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke stroke, but on “shift” she squeezed the head of my cock.

  Jesus H Christ. I was going to lose my mind.

  Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. Beaten at my own game, I removed my hand from her behind and she let go of my package. I really hoped Randi hadn’t caught onto our darkroom hanky-panky. I’d tried like hell to keep my breathing even. But even if she had noticed, I’m sure it wasn’t the first time.

  “Okay, any questions?” Randi asked.

  “I think we can handle it,” I said. Frankly, I didn’t care that much if we messed up. We’d taken some photos with our cell phones as back-up, so if we screwed up the prints, no big deal.

  “Okay. Good luck,” Randi said and left.

  “Alone at last,” I said.

  I grinned as I flipped the switch so the room was bathed in that lurid red light. Handily, this also turned on the “No-Entry - Darkroom In Use” sign outside in the hallway. That handy bit of information, I’d paid attention to.

  “Hudson, what are you doing?”

  “Making sure we aren’t disturbed,” I said before taking her in my arms and sealing my mouth over hers.

  Unlike the other night, this kiss was incendiary right off the bat. Hot and wet and eager. I put both hands on her butt now so I could grind up against her. She moaned in my mouth. I wanted to kiss my way to her ear, but remembered that her face was off limits, so I went for her neck instead. Breathing a little faster, she shuddered in my arms, and it was such a turn on that she loved what I was doing. I covered her neck and throat with kisses and she started moaning louder.

  Normally, I wouldn’t care who heard us, but if there’s anything a hockey team loves more than hockey, it’s pranks. All it would have taken was a teammate taking note of my name on the sign-up, hearing the moaning, and recording it on his phone for broadcasting later in the locker room. Now, it would be a pretty big coincidence that they happened by the darkroom at just the right time especially since it was pretty early in the morning, and I could easily laugh it off and claim the prankster just recorded sound off a porno and was saying it was me. But better safe than sorry, I figured.

  I got my phone, chose some music and maxed out the volume. When I turned my attention back to her, her lips were parted and a little swollen. Her hair was mussed, her eyes a little glazed. I advanced on her and took her mouth again in a hot, wet, deep kiss and she kissed me back, tangling her fingers in my hair and holding on like she wasn’t ever going to let go. I loved it. I’d wondered if the other night had been a fluke, but here was proof positive it hadn’t been. My body felt like it was on fire.

  Pulling back, I brushed my thumbs across her nipples, right over her shirt. Gasping, her eyes rolled back into her head and I toyed with her breasts. A tad more than a handful, they were soft and yielding. Her nipples hardened against my palms and my cock pulsed in my pants.

  Even as a wave of need rolled through my body, I wondered how far we were going to go. Right now, I was at about seventy-five percent go-for-the-gold and damn the consequences, but something inside me didn’t like the idea of quick and dirty for our first time together.

  Because I wanted more than a quick bang with Indi. I’d had enough one-night stands and awkward morning-afters to realize the two of us connected on a deeper level. We looked at a lot of life in the same way. She was low maintenance and she freaking dipped her French fries. How could I not fall for a girl who dipped her French fries? And yet she had a deep side too. There was a lot more to her than met the eye and I’d seen glimpses of parts of her, vulnerable parts, that I wanted to explore and understand.

  14

  Indi

  Hudson Forte was driving me insane. I knew this was a fact because I was ready to blow off the extra credit and drag him back to Carter Hall so he could bang my brains out. My body was flushed and ready, and his was hard and hot. I hadn’t made my bed and there were dishes in the sink, but he wouldn’t care.

  The only thing preventing me from suggesting we go to my place was a promise I’d made to myself not to repeat the mistake I’d made with my ex-boyfriend, Austin. Unable to deal with my birthmark on the night we planned to have sex for the first time, Austin had torn apart my self-esteem. I’d learned the hard way, if I couldn’t trust a guy enough to see my real face, I shouldn’t trust him with the most intimate areas of my body, not to mention my heart.

  But if there was ever a time I wanted to break that promise, it was now. Hudson was compassionate and interested in my hopes and dreams in a way Austin had never been. And his kisses, his touch, the feel of his hot breath on my skin flooded me with a need I’d never felt before.

  He pulled away and stood there staring at me intensely, breathing hard. His hair looked a little wild and so did his eyes.

  “You’re a good kisser,” I said, gratified to see him as hot and bothered as I was.

  He blinked then grinned. “You too. I didn’t want to stop.”

  “Me either.”

  “But this isn’t the right time or the right place.”

  “Agreed.”

  Someone knocked on the door. “Hey, are you at a good stopping point yet?” a voice called.

  “Sure, just a second,” Hudson replied.

  After we smoothed our clothes and I finger-combed my hair, Hudson pulled me close for one last kiss.

  “I’m not finished with you, Indi Briscoe,” he said with a banked fire in his eyes.

  I certainly hoped not.

  After an hour of trial and error and a few more stolen kisses, Hudson and I emerged from the photo lab with some decent prints, which surprised me, considering how divided my attention had been when Randi was giving us the instructions. Of course, the real test would be if, a few days from now when we turned them in, they hadn’t turned some weird color because we didn’t dip them in the right chemical for the right amount of time.

  “So, what do you think?” I asked Hudson.

  He examined the three prints. “I actually really love these. This paper has some real weight to it. I also like the way the image has a frame of white around it, like it’s matted. It makes it look like real art.”

  He got out a spiral notebook and carefully sandwiched the prints between the pages. “Got a question for you,” he said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Our home opener is on Friday—”

  “You’re having a housewarming?”

  He laughed. “No, no. This Friday is our first hockey game at home and I want you to come.”

  Burlington U had an excellent hockey team, but sports didn’t interest me. I’d only ever been to one game in the past two years because I always had more studying to do and I went home to Brattleboro for the weekend as often as I could, and all the games were on the weekends.

  But that was before I’d made out with Hudson Forte. After the way he’d talked about how much he loved the game, I really wanted to see him play.

  “Of course I’ll come. It sounds like fun.”

  His face lit up like I’d told him it was Christmas tomorrow and that made me feel good.

  Later, however, I couldn’t concentrate. It took me almost four hours to read two chapters of Organic Chemistry. I found myself getting to the end of a page, realizing I didn’t remember anything of what I’d just read and having to start over. This happened multiple times because I kept thinking about Hudson and what we’d done in the darkroom.

  I still couldn’t quite believe how on fire I’d been. He turned me on so much, it felt like I would die if I didn’t get naked with him as soon as possible. I’d read about this kind of erotic insanity in books and saw it in the movies, but until today, I kind of thought it only existed in people’s imaginations. Now that I’d experienced it myself, I understood completely why sex was such a powerful motivator. All he had to do was look at me with that hungry expression on his handsome face and I wanted him to touch and kiss and lick me everywh
ere. I wanted to touch him too—especially those thighs—to see if his body was as hard as it looked.

  And now I was all worked up again. Damn it.

  Frustrated, I jammed the cap back on my highlighter, stalked across the room to turn the lights off and lay down on the bed.

  Time to get you out of my head, Hudson Forte.

  Closing my eyes, I slid my hand into my panties. Maybe if I gave my body what it wanted, I could get some real studying done.

  I brought my mind back to the moment when I felt his hard cock and how that red-lit room had seemed provocative and exciting when just moments before it had been cold and sterile. And when he looked at me with that hunger in his eyes how my body had responded with a rush of heat that centered between my legs.

  As before, I’d felt the effects of his kisses everywhere. Every one of my nerve endings seemed to be on high alert and when he brushed his thumbs against my nipples, even over my shirt, I felt it right in my hoohah. Were there nerves connecting the two, I wondered?

  That’s when that guy had knocked on the door, but now, in my fantasy, it was still just me and Hudson in that room.

  He undid his jeans with practiced movements as I did the same. I only managed to get one leg out of my pants, but that was enough.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he growled.

  As I did so, he hoisted me up, my back against a bare wall that hadn’t been there in real life. Amazingly, he held me there, suspended, as he reached between us, took his hard cock in his hand and pushed it inside me.

  In my fantasy, I was irresistible and experienced, so when he entered me, I felt no pain, only pleasure. Intense and immediate, raw and urgent.

  Imagining what it would feel like when he thrust himself in and out of my body was all I needed to launch me into orgasm. I pressed my lips together tightly as the waves of pleasure coursed through me. I continued rubbing my clit to milk every bit of feeling out of it that I could.

  I lay there, still tingly all over, staring at the ceiling, and wondering if that was what it would really be like with him. Or was I shooting myself in the foot by creating this perfect dream that the real experience would never match?

  Well, there was only one way to find out.

  15

  Hudson

  Today was our home opener and the arena was going to be filled to capacity with avid fans dressed in green and white. Hockey was to Burlington U what football was to Notre Dame. Our fans were devoted, numerous and we sold out every home game. Even at away games, we could always count on a sizable contingent of people rooting for us. Inside the arena, the energy was unbelievable.

  Burlington was one of the twelve NCAA Division I hockey schools and our championship tournament, known as the Frozen Four, took place in the spring. We won it last year so the entire town was hungry for a back-to-back. I usually didn’t go a day without someone mentioning it to me.

  Many of my family members had gathered at my parents’ house in Brooklyn to watch on TV. The good luck texts had been coming in all day.

  And I was fucking freaking out.

  I tried to tell myself that my brain and body knew what to do. But all the practice and training in the world didn’t guarantee good performance. I saw it all the time—professional players going into a weird tailspin that lasted for months. I couldn’t afford that kind of slump. I had to be improving every single game because, even though I knew there wasn’t a Dragons representative attending the games or even religiously watching video of my play, it felt like they were. Every mistake I made, I wondered if they were going to see it and to mark it down on a tally somewhere of Hudson Forte’s fuckups. I had a dream once where the league commissioner was dressed like Santa but instead of his list saying “Naughty” or “Nice,” it said “In” or “Out” and my name was on the top of the Out list in big bold letters.

  AJ made pregame meals for us of turkey burgers with pepper jack and this mustardy mayo he whipped up himself, oven roasted sweet potato wedges and spinach salad with honest to God warm bacon vinaigrette. It tasted great at the time, but as we headed to the rink, my stomach started feeling weird.

  “Hey, that turkey was okay, right?” I asked AJ. “It wasn’t expiring or anything…”

  “No. It was fine. Why?”

  “I just…” I shook my head. “I feel a little…unsettled.”

  “It’s because Indi’s going to be there tonight,” he said. “You don’t want to look like an asshat in front of her.”

  “Probably.”

  And it was also my first game as captain. The coaching staff and my teammates would be looking at me, wondering if, as a junior, I’d been the right choice. So there was one more thing I had to prove.

  Eventually, drenched in sweat, even though the most strenuous thing I’d done was put on my gear, I realized I was going to vomit. I made it to the men’s room just in time to hurl my dinner, which was a sickening combination of brown, orange and green.

  As I flushed the toilet, my phone signaled a text. I quailed when I saw it was from, Adam Kee, the President and CEO of the San Francisco Dragons.

  Kee: On behalf of the entire Dragons organization, good luck, tonight, Forte. Knock ’em dead. We’d all love to see Burlington go all the way in April.

  I wanted to reply, I’ll put it on my list of things to do, but I didn’t.

  Hudson: I’ll do my best, sir.

  Kee: And that’s why we drafted you. You always come through.

  After I read that, I threw up some more.

  When I got back to the locker room, I guzzled some Gatorade.

  “Are you okay?” AJ asked.

  “I’m good.” I didn’t want him to know how fucked-up my stomach was. If I did, he’d think it was his fault. Plus, I promised myself when we made this cooking for rent money deal, I would never complain about the food.

  “Bullshit. You’re still thinking about Indi.”

  “Maybe a little,” I admitted. “Aren’t you thinking about Ruby watching you?”

  It was a given that Indi would bring Ruby with her.

  “Hell yeah, but honestly, you win some, you lose some.” He checked the tape on his stick and smoothed down a spot that was lifting. “I don’t plan on playing like shit, but if by chance I do and she doesn’t want to see me anymore, so be it. Don’t get me wrong, if she rejects me I’ll cry in my pillow for a month, but life’s too short to be with someone who only values you for your hockey playing.”

  He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know, but I wasn’t really afraid Indi would drop me if I stunk up the ice. I hadn’t known her long, but I knew her well enough to be sure she wasn’t that shallow. Her life’s goal was to help repair the messed-up faces of little kids, for Christ’s sake. No. My anxiety centered more around a yearning for her approval and respect. I wanted her to look at what I did and be impressed. More than that, I wanted her to be proud to be seen with me, to be dating me.

  Too late, I realized that meant I had added one more name to the catalog of people monitoring my performance.

  Shit piss fuck damn.

  UConn got two in a row in the first five minutes of the game and the entire first period and five minutes of the second went by without an answering goal from us. We weren’t even getting any good chances. Everyone seemed like they were skating through tar.

  “Come on, boys. Turn the juice on,” I yelled, reaching for a water bottle as I sat on the bench catching my breath.

  I watched as my teammates followed the UConn players down the ice. Their guy swooped around behind the net with the puck and passed it to a teammate on the blue line who fired it and missed.

  The puck bounced off the boards right to Lex Vonne, who scooped it up and whizzed past one of their guys. He passed center ice, passed the blue line and sent it across to Callan Thomas. Thomas shot. It went wide. Two players were fighting for the puck which was wedged against the boards with someone’s skate. I couldn’t tell much from the angle but—

  “Forts!
” AJ batted me on the arm. “I was talking to you.”

  Shaken from my reverie, I looked at him. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

  “I said, we look like dicks out there. You especially.”

  I was definitely off my game. The C on my jersey felt like a big fat lie. Captains didn’t play like this. Certainly, draft picks didn’t play like this.

  “No kidding.”

  “Number forty-five is beating you on the boards every single time,” AJ said.

  “Fuck. I know. I’ll fix it.”

  Out on the ice, the whistle blew. Kurlander had drawn a penalty so for the next two minutes, we would have one more player on the ice than the opposing team. As a member of the power play offensive unit, I hopped the boards and headed out to take the faceoff dot.

  As Kurlander passed by me, he said, “There you go, Forts. Time to shine.”

  Gritting my teeth, I kept my eyes on the ice and the players, resolutely refusing to look up in the stands.

  Focus. Focus. Focus.

  As I skated to my spot, my opponent sneered at me. “So you’re the famous Forte, huh?”

  I said nothing. I just met his stare.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got then,” he said.

  I hunkered down to lower my center of gravity and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. A lot of people think winning a faceoff is a simple matter of being faster than your opponent, but in reality, there are some pretty sweet moves you can pull, moves my Uncle Matt taught me. Because this guy gave me some attitude, when the linesman dropped the puck, I blocked his stick, pivoted and shouldered him away while I kicked the puck aside with my foot.

  Put that in your pipe and smoke it, asshole.

  AJ picked it up and we formed up in their zone, looking for an opening. The pressure was on because we were two goals down. We moved the puck back and forth across the ice, circling, crossing, searching for a chance to score. They cleared a couple of times but in the last few seconds of the power play, AJ deked and sent me the puck.