The Pucking Wrong Number: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 1)

I’d gone mad, but I couldn’t help it.

Monroe was mine, and I’d do anything to keep her.

I watched her sleep like my darkest dream in my bed, knowing she’d be out for hours thanks to the sedative I’d shot her with.

I’d had to do it.

She was going to leave me, and I knew there would be no way to reason with her, not so close to finding everything out.

I would’ve been able to track her down–the tracker she thought was just a birth control implant took care of that–but even being away from her for that long was something I couldn’t allow.

Right and wrong had somehow lost meaning since I’d found her.

I tangled my fingers through her hair, marveling at how smooth it felt, unable to not touch her.

She was going to be pissed off about the cuff around her ankle, but eventually she’d understand. She’d understand why I would do everything to keep us together.

Since the moment I’d seen her picture, I’d wanted to possess her, to keep her locked away where no one else could have her.

And I guess now I finally had.

I’m sick. But she made me this way.

She should have to face the consequences of that, just like I did.

I’d do whatever it took to keep her. Even if that meant locking her in this fucking penthouse for weeks, months, years. I could make her love me again. I knew I could.

I’d run faster than I ever had after my phone notified me that the first video had hit Monroe’s phone.

My father had sent it to her. And while I would deal with him…

I needed to deal with her first.

I’d sprinted back to the penthouse, checking my phone every couple of seconds to make sure she was still where she was supposed to be.

She was so naive though, to think I would just let her go.

Another reason I had to keep her with me…so I could keep her safe.

She moaned in her sleep and I found it was enough to make my cock hard. I wondered what she was dreaming about. Was it me?

It had fucking better be.

Monroe was everything to me. She’d become the reason I woke up every morning. The reason I breathed.

We’d both bleed out before I let her go.

I sighed, trying to calm down, to channel that peace I always got when I thought about forever with her.

I’d wait for her to wake up, and then I’d make her see. See we were meant to be together. That she couldn’t leave me.

Not now, not ever.

I’d do whatever it took to keep Monroe by my side. Even if that meant losing myself in the process.

Monroe

I woke up with a pounding headache and a heavy feeling in my limbs. I stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out why I was in bed.

After a second, I tried to sit up, but my head was spinning and there was bile in my throat like I was about to puke.

What happened to me?

The memories came back to me in waves, until panic was clawing at my chest.

I leaned over to vomit, nothing coming out but acid since I hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast before everything happened that morning. Had it even happened this morning? That prick of pain I’d felt…had he drugged me?

My brain couldn’t quite comprehend that. Even after all he’d done, after the fact that he’d admitted to bugging my phone…

Okay, I’d think about all that later, in the decades of therapy I had ahead of me. Right now…I needed to figure out how to get out of here.

I gingerly shifted my legs to get out of the bed, only to feel a sharp pain in my ankle. Glancing down, horror hit me when I saw a cuff around it…attached to a chain that was attached to the bedpost.

I yanked at it, but the post didn’t even move, and the metal dug into my skin, sending a sharp pain through my body.

The door was thrown open and Lincoln rushed in, his golden gaze almost comically wide with concern. ‘Hey, don’t do that,’ he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. ‘You’ll hurt yourself.”

“You chained me? Really? What the fuck is this?”

“I couldn’t let you leave,” he said simply. He grabbed my chained ankle and started massaging it.

I kicked at him and scrambled away, pressing myself against the headboard. ‘Don’t. Touch. Me.”

Lincoln resembled a kicked puppy. Like he had no idea why I would act like this.

“What did you do to me?’ I demanded, tears already streaming down my face.

‘I drugged you,’ he said, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘To keep you with me. To keep you safe.’

My heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it might burst out of my chest. ‘Why?’ I sobbed. ‘Why would you do this to me?’

‘Because I love you,’ he said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘More than anything. And I know this is crazy, Monroe. But I can’t lose you. I just need to keep you here, until you understand.”

His gaze grew determined. “You may be mad now, baby, but I promise you…I will make you fall in love with me again.’

I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even look at him anymore. ‘You’re a monster,’ I spat as I buried my face in my hands.

I felt the mattress move, and I flinched when I opened my eyes and saw him crawling towards me.

He licked the trail of tears falling down my face and I shivered, and, for some reason, just let him do it.

‘Maybe I am a monster, dream girl. But I’m your monster. And that’s all that matters.’

He stared at me for a long time, and the desperate lonely girl inside me wanted to fall into his arms, to give him what he wanted.

I was pathetic.

Finally, he shook his head. “I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes,” he finally murmured, stroking my face. He leaned close. “Just don’t fucking hurt yourself anymore. I don’t want to have to sedate you again.”

A sob slipped out. “How can you just say that to me? What is wrong with you?”

He shrugged and kissed my lips softly. “I’ve stopped asking myself that, baby.”

Then he left the room.

An hour later, he brought in a tray of food. It smelled amazing, Mrs. Bentley’s chicken parmesan, my favorite. My stomach growled, settled finally after the sedative, but I turned my face away, refusing to eat when he set the tray down.

Lincoln sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on me.

‘I know you hate me right now,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion. ‘But I promise you, Monroe. I will make this right. I will do anything to make you happy.’

“You’ve broken us,” I whispered, another stupid tear sliding down my face.

“No, I haven’t,” he growled, but a few minutes later, he again left the room.

He didn’t return until night had fallen, walking into the bathroom and going about his routine like it was just another normal night.

A few minutes later, he appeared in the doorway and leaned against the door frame, wearing nothing but a pair of tight gray briefs. My eyes danced over his taut, golden skin stretched over perfectly defined muscle.

I watched as he grew hard under my gaze.

Ugh, the bastard had broken me. Because I was sitting here, chained to a bed…and I was wanting him with every fiber of my being.

“Want to get ready for bed?” he asked innocently. As if the crown of his cock wasn’t peeking over the waistband of his pants. As if he didn’t know he was torturing me.

“Oh, is that allowed?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I have cameras in here. I know you’ve already gone into the bathroom a couple of times. Everything’s allowed. You just can’t leave our house—”

“Your house,” I corrected him stiffly, wanting to make that important distinction for some reason.

“Monroe. Your name is on the title.”

“What?” I stared at him, horrified. “I guess I won’t ask if you’re out of your mind, because you clearly are,” I screeched, lifting my leg up and shaking it so the chain rattled.

He shrugged. “It is what it is. I told you that you were my everything, Monroe. My dream. That involves giving you everything as well.”

“Except for my freedom,” I whispered.

“You don’t actually want that,” he insisted, taking slow steps towards me like he was a panther and I was his prey. “Or at least you don’t want that kind of freedom.”

I glared at him and the asshole smirked. “You were miserable in your old life. You were trapped. And you were refusing to let me help you. You were scared. All I wanted to do was make you happy. To give you everything—”

“Don’t say that word,” I whispered.

He sighed again, biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes two pools of frustration.

“Get ready for bed, baby,” he finally murmured, sliding into bed.

I stared at him, shocked. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. We are not sleeping together.”

He was looking at me like I was the one being unreasonable.

“I don’t intend to spend a single night without you for the rest of my life. And if you go before me, I’ll make sure I have a plan in place to go minutes later too. So I never have to.”

He was crazy, obsessed. Out of his fucking mind.

And, oh hell, was there something wrong with me too. Because a part of me, much bigger than I would ever admit, was desperate for it.

It turned out that a girl could easily get addicted to madness when she’d been alone for almost her entire life.

I didn’t say anything to his pronouncement. I just got out of bed. He’d adjusted the chain earlier so that I could easily get to the bathroom. And after washing my face and changing into a nightgown—that I was not going to let him take off—I got into bed with him.

“I hate you,” I whispered, my pain bleeding out into the inky darkness that surrounded me as his arms wrapped around my body, holding me close like he always did.

“No, you don’t, baby. You just wish you did,” he murmured.

And I don’t know how, but I fell asleep.

Lost in him.

His mouth was on my aching clit, the intense sensations making my body quiver.

‘No,’ I panted, trying to push him away.

But he wasn’t having it.

His golden eyes burned with possessiveness as he pulled back, licking his lips. ‘It’s been twenty two hours since my dick has been inside you. I doubt that’s an option at the moment. So I’m going to bury my face in this sweet cunt instead.’

He growled, then gave me another firm lick. ‘You can have breakfast after I’m done,” he said with a wink.

He grabbed the back of my thighs, shoving my legs towards my shoulders, and his mouth closed over my pussy again, suckling my clit.

I squirmed, trying to rock my hips, but he held me still, his grip unyielding. He fucked my pussy with his mouth, his moans of hunger filling the room. I released a new flood of arousal, my core tightening viciously.

‘Fuck. Baby. You’re perfect. So fucking sweet,’ he groaned, as if he were in pain.

His tongue was hot and wet, flicking and circling my aching clit. It slid down to my opening, probing and licking, taking every last drop of my juices. He rubbed on my clit, my moans reverberating around us. I arched my back and clutched the sheets as the pleasure built up inside me, threatening to spill over at any moment.

I tried not to enjoy it. I really did.

But I couldn’t help it.

My eyes closed as my core tightened, sobs ripping from my lips as my orgasm washed over me. Lincoln was ravenous as he devoured me, licking and sucking my pussy like it really was his favorite meal.

And when he’d given me two more orgasms, and left the room with his face soaking wet, I couldn’t help but think…

I was sick too.