Page 18 of Stand and Defend
“Listen up! Before you fuckers get too riled—flush ride or cold tub!” I instruct, then turn to Lonan, pointing a finger at him. “Mandatory ice bath. Nobody wants to bike next to your boner.”
“Fuck you, too, Cap.” I’m still not used to them calling me captain, I’ve always been Banksy. A stupid nickname, originating from Bank Teller, based on the number of commas in my family’s bank account. Bank Teller morphed into Banks, and eventually Banksy.
I chuckle as I untie my skates. After dragging my sweater over my head, I remove my padding, taking the time to listen to the team to get a read on where everyone’s head is. I’m also doing cold therapy; my muscles need it. I grab a Gatorade and go into the therapy room in my boxer briefs. Lonan is getting into his therapy tub when I enter.
“Fuck, I hate these.” Lonan groans, sinking into the cold water.
“Try doing it with seven bars in your cock,” I growl, submerging. “Acts like a fuckin’ heatsink.”
“Hard pass. How do you jack off with that shit? Your dick looks like Inspector Gadget.”
“Very happily.” I love my ladder, and so do all the women that climb it.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s way more sensitive. Feels awesome. You should get one, I bet Bridget would like it...”
“How about you don’t mention my wife while talking about your dick?”
“Fair. How’s dad life?” I say, changing the subject.
“So far, it’s great. Having a kid is a trip.”
“I’m happy for you, man.”
“Thanks.” He pauses. “I understand why Conway’s retiring. Traveling is a lot worse when you have a kid. I just want to be home with them.”
I shake my head. “You better not fucking retire. I can’t have two guys leaving at the end of the season.”
He half smiles. “Nah, I’m not done yet.” Looking forlorn, he picks up his phone, texting his wife, I’m sure. I can’t imagine what his life is like. I don’t want to. It’s better to be a lone wolf with a job like this. I see the benefit in having the stability of a relationship, but missing out on all the different pussy? Fuck that. I love variety.
Speaking of, I’m annoyed by how long it’s been. We had a rare one o’clock game, but Top Shelf will still be packed with people celebrating our win, so I can find a bunny.
Two beers, three-quarters of a pizza, and one Erica—the hot-as-hell puck bunny next to me—and I’m still not in the mood. She’s the kind of girl I usually go for, but it’s not doing it for me. With one arm around her, squished together in a booth with the team, my palm drops to Erica’s thigh. I grip it.Nothing.No excitement, no anticipation. Maybe I need to see a doctor.Fuck, is this erectile dysfunction?!
Can’t be, I still jack off normally. Although, I’m ashamed that before the game, I saw Jordan’s face when I came. How fucked up is that? My phone has been burning a hole in my pocket ever since I got her number. She’s off-limits. Which makes her more desirable. I can’t figure out this weird attraction I have to her. I mean, yeah, she’s gorgeous, but it’s something else.
Pity?No, that’s not it. Maybe because my brain gets off on breaking pretty things. The thought of corrupting daddy’sivy-league princess gets me hard. All that money spent on finishing school only to be finishing on my cock with a big smile on her face.I’m sick.
I shake off the visual of Jordan bouncing on my dick. I should see if this bunny wants to get out of here, this has to be one of those things where if you don’t use it, you lose it. Maybe I’ve forgotten how good it feels to have my cock sucked or something.
“You having one?” Wilder holds a shot glass in front of me.I wonder what she’s doing right now.
Fuck it. I shake my head and pull my phone out, letting my fingers do the thinking.
Me: Hey.
Three marquee dots blink, and I smile. Why do those dots give me the jolt of anticipation I’m looking for? Jordan’s response to “Hey” shouldn’t be more exciting than the prospect of taking home the bunny next to me. I’m hanging out with too many married dudes. It’s messing with my head.
Jordan: Hey?
Me: How are you?
Jordan: Fine . . .
Jordan: How are you?
Me: I’m bored.