Page 20 of Pucking Them
It’s large and intimidating.
I wince.
I’m glad that it’s Shay’s ass that is going to be knotted and not mine.
I’mthe Alpha in this pack.
It is Shay who is our sweet puppy. I would love to put a collar and leash on him. I sense that he would love it too.
Before I can stuff the phone back into my pocket, however, the door swings open.
“Are you just going to knock and then not come in? Some of us have important work to get back to,” Silas demands rudely.
Shit…
I scramble, almost dropping the phone. By mistake, I enlarge the dildo pic.
I try to shield the screen, but Silas’ eyes widen.
“Is that a new merchandising idea?” Silas sneers. “Sex toys for pucking? Should we copyright that phrase?”
My cheeks pink, but I reply, coolly, “Good idea. We could design entire ranges, since they keep being thrown onto the ice by fans. Spiral unicorn dildos, ice blue butt plugs, and how aboutPuck Me Quickjerseys?”
“Aren’t you just full of ideas?”
Silas glances at me with the same contempt as a billionaire sprawled in a lap dancing club, who is judging the strippers, despite the factheis choosing to stuff hundred-dollar bills down their G-strings.
Asshole.
Silas is in his forties, small and long faced. His ginger hair is neatly parted.
I hate how little he cares about the players or the sport. To him, everything is about the numbers on the page and the money in his own pocket.
“You’re handsome and a winner with the female demographic.” Silas looks me up and down in a way that makes my skin crawl.Like I am a commodity.“At least youwere, before that disgraceful display on the ice. Leaning into your fuckability with other demographics now is not a bad idea, sales wise.”
Cold fury surges through me.
Kissing Shay on the ice was the most liberating moment of my life.
My parents and brothers may have beaten me bloody the first time that I kissed a boy. But no one is beating me down for kissingthisboy.
“I am not hiding who I am any longer.” My voice is ice-cold. “And thatdisplayon the ice meant freedom.”
“It could have meant the end of Bay Rebels.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Follow me.” Silas arrogantly turns on his heel and marches back into the large office.
I follow him, slamming the door shut behind me.
He raises his eyebrow. “Problem?”
“Is there? You tell me.”
Silas settles behind his sleek, mahogany desk, which is covered with ranked piles of paper and folders. Steel filing cabinets are ranged along the far wall.
Three computers and more high-tech gadgets than I have seen in one office before are ranged in front of Silas.
