The Pucking Wrong Date: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 3)

The guys going to the bachelor party were all bussed over to the bar—unfortunately without the ladies even though we were going to the same fucking place. The bar was alright, with the usual dimly lit interior, vintage décor, and the faint scent of spilled beer mingling with the aroma of fried food. But having Olivia separated from me by a wall made the place feel like actual hell.

I’d had enough of being separated from her.

I was ready to move on to where we spent every waking—and sleeping—second together forever and ever.

Walker, you sound like a psycho.

“Hey Davis, want to play pool?” one of Seattle’s defenders, Mike O’Connell, called to me when we’d gotten inside.

“Let’s do it,” I responded, grabbing a beer off a waiter’s tray as he passed by. I was going to need it. I generally got along with most of the players in the League, but there had always been something about Seattle.

Both Seattle and Soto were great about getting under my skin.

I could play nice for a night though.

If it all led me to the girl.

An hour passed, and the clinking of balls and raucous laughter filled the air as we settled into the party.

‘Not surprised you’re bad at this, Taylors, considering all the shots you fucked up that game,’ I told him with a smirk when he missed an easy shot.

He growled at me as the rest of the guys playing laughed, but someone threw another shot into his hands, and he shrugged and tossed it back without a retort.

We continued to line up shots and shit talk before the conversation inevitably turned to the bachelorette party happening in the room next door—the only topic I was actually interested in at the moment.

‘I can’t believe the girls are getting a stripper,’ one of the guys whined, shaking his head incredulously. ‘And our boy Harley has decided it’s a bros only party tonight.’

I stood up straighter, my gaze darting to the wall like it was going to open up and reveal the debauchery happening next door.

I didn’t like the idea of a stripper around Olivia. Not at all.

She’d be the obvious one to get the attention, even with the bride to be in the room. The guy would take one look at how hot she was and start bumping and grinding…or whatever it was that they did.

Laughter erupted around the table about something else, but I could only pretend to laugh along with everyone.

I had a no other dicks policy when it came to Olivia’s golden pussy. And I might go crazy tonight if a stripper’s dick came around. I bet her cum was still smeared on her lips. They’d lean in close, and smell her perfection.

Or what if they fucking tried to kiss her? And they could taste her?

“Excuse me, boys,” I murmured, trying to sound cool instead of like I was freaking the fuck out. I kept my walk even as I strode out to the hallway…immediately greeted by the sight of two oiled down guys lugging an old-fashioned boombox. One was dressed as a cowboy, the other as a police officer, looking a bit snug in his uniform.

Not fucking happening.

‘Oh fuck, no one told you,’ I exclaimed, acting chagrined. “The groom canceled your gig—he got cold feet about another guy’s balls all over his bride-to-be.” I shook my head. “We called your company…”

The cowboy and the cop sighed. “Fucking hell. That’s twice in the past week,” the cop grumbled, setting the boombox on the ground.

I eyed it, where had they even gotten something like that? It was basically a collector’s edition at this point.

“Yeah, I feel awful about you guys coming out here. Let me pay your fee. There was probably some late cancellation bullshit anyway. How much do I owe you?”

The guys glanced at each other, still looking unsure about the late cancellation. I made a big show of getting money out of my wallet and handing it to them. “How about this, here’s $300 for each of you, because I’m assuming you would have gotten tips tonight.” I pressed a wad of bills into their hands.

Both of their eyes lit up and they took the money without question, so evidently I’d overpaid. I wasn’t exactly up on what male strippers were making nowadays.

I eyed the cowboy hat, wishing I had my own. My new Dallas Knights ball cap was going to have to do though, there was no way I was going to ask that guy for his hat. I could only imagine where it had been.

This might have been the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done in my life. Thank fuck the guys were not here, because I would never live it down.

Although knowing how possessive Lincoln was over Monroe, he probably would have just burned down the bar so that the bachelorette party had never happened in the first place.

Food for thought if I was ever in this situation again.

Not that Olivia would be having a bachelorette party where I wasn’t there.

Taking a deep breath, I turned on some random song from a “stripper playlist” I’d found on Spotify—that was literally what it was called. And then I sauntered into the room, ignoring all of the girls but Olivia, who was whispering with Maddie at one of the tables, a tray of shot glasses in front of them. I grinned as I stared at her, because how could you not in the face of all that perfection.

She’d changed into some kind of black halter top and tight jeans get-up and it was doing something to me…and my balls.

‘I heard you all are causing trouble, and someone called for backup,’ I announced, my voice laced with playful authority.

The room erupted into cheers and catcalls, no one seeming to recognize that I was actually a guest at this wedding. I’d been very incognito at the engagement party though, basically lurking in the shadows like a creeper while I waited to make a move on my girl—so that was understandable. I locked eyes with Olivia now, her cheeks flushed with surprise, confusion…and wariness as she stared at me.

“Let’s get this party going, y’all,” I yelled, turning my hat backwards, a move that for some reason made all the girls go crazy. Women were weird.

I turned on ‘Don’t Blame Me’…which was not on the “stripper playlist,” but was definitely fitting for my current life situation, and I began to move my hips.

What I’d forgotten with this master plan of mine…was that I was actually an awful dancer.

So this was going to be fun.

Tay-Tay, please don’t fail me now.

Olivia

It felt like I had stepped into an alternate universe—one I didn’t want to leave. As ‘Don’t Blame Me’ blared from Walker’s phone, he did some weird shaking move that reminded me of jello bouncing in a bowl.

A giggle slipped out of my mouth because he was terrible, and he grinned at me, like he’d been waiting for that.

And then things fucking changed.

His movements suddenly became hypnotic, each sway of his hips and twist of his body sending a surge of heat coursing straight to my core. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. The smirk on his lips was driving me crazy—he knew he was the hottest thing on this fucking planet.

Even that was hot.

I was jealous for a second-wondering how he’d gotten so good at this kind of thing. I didn’t know him very well obviously, but it seemed doubtful that he moonlighted as a stripper after hockey practice.

A part of me wanted to tear out everyone’s eyes because they were getting to see something I wanted just for me.

I hadn’t had much of that before.

But I was finding that out of everything I’d wanted in my life, that I never could keep…Walker Davis was moving his way to the top of that list.

He wasn’t playing the crowd, flirting it up with all the women to get some cheers…instead, his gaze was locked onto mine…the entire time.

“Holy fuck,” Maddie whispered from nearby.

But I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him to look at her.

“Cover your eyes,” I muttered instead.

And her answering snort shook the table. “Not for a million dollars, ma’am.”

Rude.

Jolts of electricity—and lust—were shooting through me. It kind of felt like we actually were alone, like he was dancing just for me, his eyes smoldering with desire as he moved closer.

It kind of felt like I could come just from watching him long enough.

Another pang of jealousy sparked in my chest. Like my body had already decided he belonged to me, and no one else should have the privilege of seeing him like that.

“I think I need a volunteer for this next one,” he announced, that slight southern drawl of his making me weak in the knees.

Me and everyone else.

I stared, wide-eyed as he stripped off his shirt in that universal hot guy move that I swore guys must go to school for—because the move was perfection.

Walker’s shirt peeled away from his frame, revealing the taut contours of his chest and the defined lines of his abs.

My mouth dropped and I was suddenly…hungry. I’d dragged my tongue across those abs. I’d sunk my fingers into that skin. I’d bit down on that chest as he’d made me come.

Every flex of his muscles rippled with raw power as he moved. His abs were like a roadmap to my happy place, leading down to the part of him that was probably my favorite…

The bar could have burned down around me at that moment and I wouldn’t have even cared.

Ignoring the other women screaming like we were at a boy band concert, he ambled straight towards me, his features cocky and delicious.

I was frozen in place as he stopped right in front of my chair, unable to even move. I was pretty sure this portion of the performance was supposed to involve the bride to be, but his hand wrapped around mine as he leaned over me.

“Come here, angel face. Let’s have some fun.”

I followed him up to the stage at the far side of the room like he held my life in his hands, like I would have followed him anywhere, to whatever end.

After getting me up on the stage, he grabbed a chair and set it beside me.

“Go ahead and sit down,” he purred as I continued to gape up at him like a frog caught in the glare of headlights.

Having his attention like this, like I was the only person that existed for him…it was a heady…powerful feeling. I was used to having attention, but not like this, not the kind of attention where I was really seen, beyond the “Olivia Darling” veneer.

It was a dangerous thing, this feeling….

A girl could get addicted to it.

And that was the last thing that I needed.

Walker fiddled with his phone and then a second later “Candy Shop” was playing.

I grinned because I used to love this song. I had a feeling that it was going to make a comeback for me after this little moment.

Walker gave me a sexy wink, like he could read my freaking mind.

He began to dance around me, trailing his hands across my skin, his gaze seeming to explore every curve of my body. I melted in my seat, forgetting for a second we were in a crowded room, that there was anyone around but us.

His body moved in sync with the sultry melody. With each flick of his wrist and twist of his hips, I got caught further under his spell⁠—

Wow…and there was his dick in my face…even with his jeans that monster was loud and proud.

I wanted to lick it.

He grabbed me and spun around, sitting down so I was straddling him on the chair. His cock was pressed against the seam of my pants and it was all I could do to hold in my groan as he thrust against me.

A hand went to my hair and he massaged my head for a second before he suddenly dipped me down, bumping and grinding his dick against my core.

Holy mother of all fucks.

He popped me up like I weighed nothing before swinging me back into my seat and falling to the ground in front of me as he pushed my legs apart, mimicking eating me out before he stood, grabbed me, and hoisted me into his arms.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, gasping as he thrust against me as the last notes of the song faded away.

There was a long beat of silence as we stared at each other.

“Wow,” I whispered, and his answering grin threatened to light up my life.

And then the whole room was screaming and dollar bills were literally falling all around us.

I now understood better the phrase “make it rain.”

“Want to get out of here?” he grumbled, his hips still making small movements against my core.

I glanced over at Maddie questioningly, who was standing on top of her chair, jumping up and down like she’d been possessed. “Go, go, go! Take that man to Pound Town!” she yelled, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“Please,” I finally gasped at Walker, feeling like I was burning from the inside out and the only cure was his dick.

Walker kept me in his arms as we walked toward the hallway, stopping at the threshold and turning back to the crowd of rowdy women. He flipped his ball cap back around and tipped it, a sexy smirk still on his lips. “Ladies,” he called. “Another round on me.”

Their answering screams and catcalls almost cost me my hearing.

As soon as we’d gotten out of the room, his lips crashed against my mouth, one hand tangling in my hair as his other arm kept me wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his tongue fucking into my mouth desperately. “If I don’t get inside of you, I think I might die.”

I giggled against his lips, but he didn’t laugh back. And I wasn’t so sure that had been a joke.

He started to walk us down the hall towards the exit and I buried my face in his neck, trying to get a hold of myself. Why did he have to smell so fucking good?

“Olivia?” Harley’s voice called to us. I lifted my face and glanced at my cousin over Walker’s shoulder. Walker didn’t stop walking even though there was no way he hadn’t heard him. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the hotel,” I told Harley, grinning and thinking he would be happy for me.

Harley didn’t look happy at all though. His brows were furrowed and there was a scowl on his face. ‘You should stay for the party, Davis,’ Harley…snarled. What in the world?

“See you tomorrow, buddy,” Walker responded in a friendly, easy voice, finally stopping and turning around to face him. “But don’t worry! I’m keeping that video safe. I know how special it is.”

“What video?” I asked, unable to stop myself from snuggling further into his chest.

I didn’t even recognize myself right now. I’d had a few shots but I couldn’t blame how I was behaving on alcohol.

“Oh, just a fun video Harley boy’s thinking about showing at the wedding,” Walker murmured, brushing a kiss against my forehead. He raised one hand in farewell, still somehow keeping me perfectly in place.

I soaked up the affection desperately, waving at Harley as well as Walker started back down the hallway. Hmm, he looked a little green around the edges. Maybe he’d already drank too much. “Get some water!” I shouted, but he was already walking away.

Walker chose that moment to lick along my pulse…and I forgot all about Harley.

Once we got out into the humid, night air though, I found my head. “Set me down,” I murmured anxiously. His hands gripped my hips for a second, like he couldn’t bear to let me go…and then he slid me down his body until I was standing on my own.

“How are we getting back to the hotel?” I asked, well aware that I sounded snippy all of a sudden.

But this was all I needed, for someone to see us and snap a picture.

He murmured something about an Uber, but I was still freaking out.

Holy fuck. And I’d just let him dance on me in what was probably a room full of social media savvy women. There were at least thirty women in there. Once they realized who I really was…

Well, you can’t change anything now, I thought to myself…

But also…did I want to? Walker was holding my hand, pulling up the Uber app on his phone.

He was the kind of guy I would have fantasized about once upon a time. Who I would have thought didn’t actually exist.

I had been fantasizing about him since the moment I’d met him.

The night that we’d met, I’d told him I’d wanted one night.

Would it be so bad to have one perfect weekend now? To give myself a few more memories to keep me warm at night before I went back to my miserable life?

Walker might be worth some pictures, or a gossip article….for one weekend.

That decision made, my shoulders relaxed and I was able to accept his arms when he pulled me against his chest as we waited for the car.

“Good girl,” he murmured, as his embrace made me feel safe for the first time in a long time.

I ignored the way the butterflies soared in my stomach at his words.

Because I knew from experience that those butterflies…they always died.