DANGEROUS ICE: MY HOCKEY NEMESIS IS MY SINFUL OBSESSION
"Open wide, Golden Boy. I know you’ve been imagining sucking my cock in your head the entire practice."
The cold floor of the locker room is bruising my knees, but it’s nothing compared to the grip Michael Rossi has on my hair.
My mouth is stretched tight around his cock, my heart hammering against my ribs in a rhythm of pure, unadulterated shame.
I’m the star defenseman
for the Knights, the disciplined, untouchable Axel Thorne and yet here I am, choking on the pride of my greatest enemy while he talks to me like I’m his favorite toy.
They call him the "Menace," and for once, the media isn't exaggerating. Michael Rossi is the jagged edge of the Rebels’ front line, a dirty, arrogant prick who plays like he has nothing to lose and a god complex to maintain.
I’ve hated him since freshman year, since the night I walked into a hallway and saw him stealing the girl I thought I’d marry. He didn't even want her; he just wanted to show me he could take her.
He’s spent the last year and a half chirping in my ear on the ice, checking me into the boards with a smirk, and dismantling every shred of peace I’ve tried to build. Now, a viral "spite kiss" has trapped us in a contract that says I have to be his "boyfriend" to save my career.
I’m supposed to play along with the guy who ruined my life, but the closer I get, the more I realize the rivalry was just the beginning. The ice is thin, and the man I’m supposed to hate is the only thing keeping me from falling through.
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I’ve been watching the "Golden Boy" for eighteen months, and it’s been a slow, beautiful torture. Axel Thorne is everything I’m not, disciplined, loved, and blissfully oblivious to the rot surrounding him.
He thinks I stole his girlfriend because I’m a villain; he doesn't realize I only did it to watch the look in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to cry when he saw her lips on mine, and all I could think about was how much better those plump, trembling lips would feel wrapped around my cock.
This rivalry was never about the game; it was about the obsession. I’ve spent every practice, every game, and every restless night imagining how it would feel to finally claim him, to break the Golden Boy until he realizes he was never meant for the light.
Now that the PR board has handed him to me on a silver platter, I’m never letting go.
He thinks we’re faking a relationship to save our jerseys, but I’m playing a game where the only way he wins is by losing himself to me.