Kiss and Puck
The testosterone-charged locker room of the hockey team.
Scattered hockey equipment littered the floor everywhere, and on the walls hung the ever-present cliché sign: No Pain, No Gain. Gossip always simmered here.
Trivial stuff from last weekend’s house party—who’d come out of whose dorm room, what nonsense.
For the athletic university hockey players, campus relationships were nothing more than light entertainment.
Captain Tristan Lockwood didn’t pay them much mind. He didn’t even consider settling down with anyone seriously, but these days, who married someone you met at university?
So he told himself: the Korean girl who kept annoying him, Cora Han, was just a passing “experiment.”
“Hah… hah… too deep…”
Tristan gripped Cora’s ankles with both hands and folded her legs back into a perfect V. Her flexible hips opened smoothly anyway.
That was Tristan—using the skater’s flexibility to the fullest.
“Stop pretending. Where did the sports spirit go?”
Her firm backside trembled as his pelvis slammed against her without mercy.
“…Hah… hot!”
“Hah… Cora.”
Tristan let out a low groan and bowed his head.
The tight, fluttering sensation around his thick length was overwhelmingly intoxicating.
Every time he thrust, the silver chain necklace around his thick neck swung right above Cora’s lips.
Seeing that, he tightened his grip on her ankles and let out a hot breath.
What the hell was so frustratingly perfect about this girl?
Her slender yet intense eyes, cat-like arrogant features, and the wet sounds rising from below—all of it drove him insane.
And the directness—no fear in front of him, just saying exactly what she wanted—that alone made him throb.
It was so fresh to a Lockwood heir raised among sycophants.
Plus, she was a talented figure skater to boot…
He looked down at the Cora beneath him and smirked.
“Look at that perfect split. The judges couldn’t have seen this, could they?”
“…Hah.”
“Technical score perfect.”
“…What the hell are you thinking about all the time, huh!”
“Maybe if I told you what I’ve imagined with you, you’d want to stab me.”
“Pervert.”
Tristan laughed, cruel and satisfied, then slammed his hard cock to the hilt again. Still buried deep, he stirred inside her and whispered hotly against her ear.
“Be honest. You’ve wanted this with me from the very beginning.”
“……”
“What? No?”
“At first I just thought you were a pathetic kid… Euh!”
“Pretending to be prim while sneaking glances at my body—you weren’t subtle at all.”
“Hah… fuck you, Tristan.”
“Fuck me, please.”
His hips bucked even harder. As he lifted his body like an aroused dog, wet sounds and foam rose at the join.
“Hah! Euh. S-slow!”
Thunk.Thud.
Cora howled in pain and pleasure from the rough thrusts.
Being with a hockey player like him was always this intense.
Tristan was built like a god—six-five, over two hundred and thirty pounds, naturally athletic.
Years of brutal training for the contact of hockey had packed every inch of him with muscle.
When he dropped his full weight, Cora’s body shook uncontrollably no matter how she felt.
And somehow, the violence felt this good. Was this normal? Did everyone fuck like this?
No time to think deeper. A low voice growled right by her ear.
“I’ve wanted this with you from the start.”
“Hic… f-firs…”
“The second our eyes met.”
“Hic… hii…”
“What I did when I said I was putting you in my hand…”
There was no good outcome for her.
Tristan pushed deeper. Pleasure made Cora’s body quake violently.
At times like this, Tristan felt lucky he was her first. Most guys weren’t like him.
Once she got used to the thrill he gave her, no other man could satisfy her. That should have made him proud—yet it also stirred something ugly inside him.
They both knew the future didn’t exist between them, so this was the only ending.
Still, the brat in his gut reared its head.
If that’s the case… I’ll ruin her. Forever.
Whichever man she ended up with after him, he wanted her to think of him. Every future husband would pale in comparison because he’d given her the best orgasm of her life.
I’ll be your ghost. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you.
He pulled out, releasing her ankles.
Before she could even catch her breath, Tristan flipped her onto her stomach in one smooth motion, arm sliding around her waist.
He sat back against the headboard, pulled her onto his thigh, and drove his cock to the hilt in one stroke.
“Ah…”
One hand pressed against her lower back as he murmured.
“Back arched.”
“…What?”
“You’re good at that. The layback. I’ve got you—lie back.”
Layback in figure skating meant arching her back dramatically.
At his arrogant command, Cora rolled her eyes. Tristan pressed gently on her shoulder with his fingertip—light but insistent.
“Hah…”
With her body pushed, Cora finally leaned back onto his palm. Her flexible waist curved like a bow, stretching the line from chest to hips taut.
Tristan’s hungry eyes scanned the joined part where his thick cock was buried and murmured.
“Fuck… I’m crazy for you.”
He used his core and thigh power to lift her from below, while his other hand rubbed her slick clit in steady circles.
“Ahh… hic… eh!”
Tristan watched her with hazy eyes, then slowly lifted his gaze to her belly button. The bouncing breasts came into view with every thrust. The pink nipples stood stiff and begging to be sucked.
“Damn.”
Excited, Tristan took one nipple into his mouth and rocked his hips harder.
Amid the ecstasy, his long-hidden sincerity surged up.
Months from now we’ll be done with each other. How the hell do I let her go?
Like most campus relationships, theirs had an end date from the beginning.
So what would Cora be like after him?
The thought brought an image of her—graduating, living in a suburban house with a husband who wasn’t him. She’d be raising kids in the mornings, sneaking quick fucks with him at night, and probably wondering if she even missed him.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed.
Who was that guy, anyway?
A man who could keep someone like talented, beautiful Cora as his wife must be pulling at least half a million a year. Businessman? Athlete?
Even if he was flashy, he wouldn’t measure up.
In her thirties, what would Cora be doing? Maybe raising kids in a two-story house with a yard.
She’d put the kids to bed at dawn and be sneaking off with that guy. What would she be thinking while she did it?
About me?
That I was a bastard but I fucked her so good she still remembered? While she lay beneath me, panting, and laughed at the pathetic husband behind her?
“Hic… T-Tristan…”
The clearer the fantasy grew, the rougher Tristan’s movements turned, driven by jealousy and rage.
He flipped her all the way onto her back and climbed on top, pinning her completely with no space between them.
He pounded into her like a madman. Sweat poured from their touching skin, the bed creaked and vibrated.
“Aaaah!”
Cora cried out at the seamless, full connection, but to Tristan it was pure music.
His mind, meanwhile, raged at the imaginary future husband.
That guy would shrink when he found out his wife’s ex was pro hockey player Tristan Lockwood. Every time he saw my billboard photo he’d shake with inferiority.
That’s right. I’m the one who devoured her whole. She still thinks about me every night.
So, strictly speaking, Cora was still mine.
Tristan gritted his teeth and kissed her hard, as if that could make her completely his.