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Puck me where it hurts Novel Cover

Puck me where it hurts

Callie never went looking for trouble, but one reckless night with a stranger leaves her marked in ways she can’t explain—and haunted by a night she can’t forget. When he resurfaces, he’s the last person she should want: older, off-limits, and dangerous in peak moments. Every game they share feels like punishment, yet something wild and undeniable calls to her. Callie doesn’t believe in fate, and she definitely doesn’t believe in werewolves. But the burning mark on her skin says she belongs to him, pulling her into a passionate, forbidden werewolf romance where desire and destiny collide.
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Chapter 1

****Callie's POV****

I'm moaning his name in my sleep again. HIM.

The mysterious man who completely wrecked me in bed and left me aching, yearning, and craving more.

I didn't know his name. I didn't know where he was from. All I knew was that he'd aroused me in ways I'd never experienced before-not even close with my ex.

It all started after a drunk girls' night out.

The night I caught my ex-boyfriend Nate in bed with my teammate, Tomika.

I walked in on them in his off-campus apartment-the one he shared with his friends. The door was wide open. She was sprawled on the couch, legs spread wide, raised high and hooked over his shoulders while he pounded into her. She was screaming her lungs out.

Everyone on campus knew Nate was hot-probably the hottest guy around-and every girl wanted him between her legs. He'd sworn he was committed to me, his plain-Jane girlfriend.

That's what people called me: plain. Short, slim, pretty enough, but completely undeserving of someone like Nate. Or so they said.

Truthfully, I wasn't even that into him. I only said yes because my friends thought it was the ultimate flex-having the campus heartthrob all over me.

Biggest mistake of my life.

It didn't take long for them (and me) to realize he was terrible for me.

Nate was a chronic cheater.

Rumors swirled about him sleeping with half the girls in his department. I'd seen the texts myself-girls thanking him for a "wild night." We fought constantly. Every time, he'd end up crying, begging on his knees. It was dramatic, pathetic, and somehow effective. I always stayed.

Not because I was obsessed. Not because of jealousy or low self-esteem. My entire hockey career was on the line.

I was on a scholarship-one Nate's father sponsored. Even though I was a solid player, I'd been overlooked for better opportunities. The moment I became "Nate's girl," everything changed. Coaches noticed me. Teammates respected me. Doors opened. I hated the idea of going back to being invisible, so I endured it all. I ignored my friends' advice. I stayed.

I needed this scholarship to finish up studies, I was already in my finals, just one more year I thought...

Until that day.

Seeing him balls-deep in Tomika-my own teammate who'd spent months cozying up to me, asking for sports tips, fishing for relationship details-was the final straw. The door was wide open. She was screaming like a porn star. He didn't even have the decency to hide it.

I was done.

I broke up with him right there. He started his usual routine-tears, begging, dropping to his knees-but I didn't hear a word. Before I left, I slapped Tomika hard across the face. She deserved it for the betrayal.

That night, my best friends Arielle and Gianna dragged me out-not to cry over Nate, but to celebrate my freedom.

"Girl... I'm so fucking happy you're finally done with that jerk!" Gianna screamed over the music.

The club was pulsing-bass thumping, air filled with sweat and alcohol. My nose wrinkled at first, but I decided I didn't care. Tonight I was partying like I'd never allowed myself to before.

"Cheers!" we shouted, clinking glasses.

I got wasted. I tried every drink on the menu, danced with random guys, laughed until my stomach hurt. Arielle and Gianna were right there with me, grinding on strangers and screaming lyrics.

"You deserve all the fun you're having tonight!" Arielle yelled above the music, she was grinding a complete hottie.

I chuckled at her drunken wild dance.

"You know I should have done this sooner!" I yelled back.

We poured the drinks from our glasses into each other's mouths still dancing and partying hard.

I promised myself I wasn't going to get drunk, I was a good drinker but since Nate, I had stopped and maybe it had affected me because I was starting to feel nauseous.

My head spun.

The last clear memory I had is spotting a guy sitting alone at the far end of the bar, drinking himself into oblivion. He looked heartbroken, just like I felt underneath the buzz. So I went to him.

We drank together until everything faded.

The next thing I remembered was him pinning my back against the wall of a hotel suite.

"How do you like a good bad girl...?" I whispered in his ear, voice husky from liquor and lust.

I don't even know why I said it. He just made me feel like one.

He didn't answer with words. He simply lifted my legs, hooked them over his shoulders, and groaned at the scent of me. The sound vibrated through my core.

Then his tongue was inside me-deep, wet, relentless. I moaned into the darkness before I could stop myself. My hands flew to his bare chest-hot, hard, slick with sweat. I clawed at his back, trying to pull him closer.

He caught my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head against the wall. With the other, he yanked my panties down my thighs. His thick cock slid against my entrance, teasing, pressing.

"Oh my god..." I gasped, shameless.

I wanted to scream his name-I needed*

to-but I didn't even know it.

Two fingers plunged between my folds. I was drenched.

"Fuck," he growled, voice rough. "You're so fucking wet."

His lips found my neck. Hot breath. Teasing kisses. Then teeth. He bit down on it-hard.

The pain was bright, electric, addictive.

I didn't flinch. I arched into it. He could do anything he wanted tonight as long as he kept fucking me like this.

We were animals. Wall. Bed. Back to the wall. Couch. I screamed until my throat was raw. I hadn't felt this alive in years.

I wanted him again. And again. I wanted more.

It felt that good.

But when morning came, he was gone.

No note. No number. No trace.

Just the sheets tangled around me and the fresh, throbbing bite mark on my neck-proof it wasn't a dream.

He'd ruined me in the best way possible... and then disappeared.

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