The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,24

now. She takes out the neon pink helmet. “You want me to wear this?”

“I don’t want to give you a concussion”

She laughs aloud, the sound of her voice echoing through the locker room and showers beyond. “You want a bit of one-on-one, do you?”

“I want to see what you’ve got.”

“I did figure-skating, you do realize, and only for a few months.”

I hand her pants and guards, piling it all up in her arms until she’s teetering there before me. I place a spare cup on top out of habit.

“What’s that for?” she laughs. “I know we’re in the men’s locker room, but I didn’t grow a dick overnight.”

“You don’t want to protect your lady parts?”

“I won’t be needing no damn pussy protector, no.”

I take it away and toss it back into the locker. “Suit yourself. Now, you need a hand getting into that stuff?”

“I’ll manage.” With that she heads over to the changing bench.

Got to say, it’s fun watching her strip down. She leaves her shirt and pants in a haphazard pile. It becomes far more amusing after that watching her trying to work out how the myriad of guards go together.

I walk over fully kitted. “Here, allow me.”

I fix her shoulder pads, get her garter into position. She’s laughing, half toppling over as we try to wrangle her socks on.

“Do I really have to wear all this stupid shit?” she says.

“The socks cover the shin guards. It’s a required part of the uniform.”

“By the time we get this damn thing on our hour’s going to be up.”

Ten highly painful minutes later we’re ready to go. Linnea looks adorable suited up in pink and white. I’m half tempted to forget the hockey and strip her back down.

She sees the way I look at her. “I know what you’re thinking.”

I can’t help smiling. “What’s that?”

“You wish I was wearing just the jersey, don’t you?”

I lick my lips, using my stick to support myself. “Something like that.”

She looks down at my crotch. “What’s it like getting a boner wearing one of those things?”

“Good question. Let’s just say you pitch the tent up rather than out.”

She nods to the locker. “Pass me a stick and let’s see if I can get you hard then.”

I reach in and take out one of my spare sticks, tossing it across the room. She catches it in one hand.

“Let’s do it.”

We walk out. I hit the ice and sprint off to the far end, looping back in a wide arc, working the toe of my stick on the ice. “You need some h—” But when I look down to where I expect to see Linnea entering the ice, she’s not here.

“…Help?” she finishes, from somewhere behind me. “No, I don’t believe I do.”

She whips past, whacking her stick against my ass.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, babe.”

I tuck in and pace after her, but she’s quick. I expected she’d be able to skate maybe at a basic, amateur level, but I wasn’t expecting whatever this is.

She pulls into a tight circle, tapping her stick against the ice. “Come on, big boy. Drop that puck and let’s see what you’ve got.”

I take the puck and drop it, moving it side to side while I approach her. “I don’t think you were being entirely truthful with me, Ms. Marsden.”

She’s smiling. “Like I said, I’m a fast learner.”

She powers forward not showing an ounce of fear. Such is her conviction, I’m forced to shift sideways, the move allowing her just enough reach to snake in and steal the puck. She goes off with it down to the end of the rink, stopping in a spray of ice and slap-shooting like a pro. There’s a sharp thwack as the puck meets the back of the net.

What. The. Fuck.

She retrieves and puck and skates back to me. “Maybe I wasn’t being entirely truthful, no.”

“You Hilary Knight under there?”

“I wish.” She pulls up. “But I did used to play a bit with the boys in school. Roller hockey, but hey, what’s the difference?”

“Uh, a hell of a lot, actually.”

“Hockey is hockey, Nolan King. It’s the competitive spirit that counts.”

“So, let’s make it competitive.”

“First to five?”

“You’re on.” She drops the puck and speeds back off towards the goal.

“Shit,” I mutter, squatting and chasing with everything I have.

I expected to show her my skills, maybe selfishly, yes, but this is going to be an actual workout.

I can’t catch her. She scores and fires the puck back to me, meeting me in the center of