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The locker room was chaos.

Champagne sprayed everywhere, music blasted, and players shouted, their voices hoarse from celebrating. I’d showered and changed, but my buzz was still running hot, my heart thundering in time with the bass.

Like a damn moth to a flame, I spotted her across the room, surrounded by players and team staff, laughing, her face glowing, and something primal inside me stirred.

This wasn’t how I wanted to celebrate.

I grabbed a bottle of champagne and crossed the room in what felt like two steps, my hand sliding into hers without a word.

“Dalton, what—” she started as I pulled her out of the locker room, silencing her with a smirk. I tugged her into a supply closet and shut the door behind us.

Pine-Sol and bleach permeated the small space, but I didn’t fucking care. Nothing mattered except her.

“You’re mine, Sunshine,” I murmured, my voice low and full of heat, caging her against the wall with my hands. Loving the way her breath hitched, lips parting as I dipped my head to brush my mouth against hers. “Stanley Cup or not, you’re my victory.”

Her calloused hands fisted in my shirt, slamming my lips down on hers. The kiss was searing. It was like someone pressed a livewire to my skin. Her nails scraped lightly against the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I pressed her tighter against the wall, my body molding to hers as I deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of gratitude, relief, and love into it.

“Dalton,” she whispered against me, her voice breathless, sending a shot of lust to my cock. “I love you.”

Fuck. I’d never get tired of that.

The words were everything.

I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, my chest heaving harder than it had during the game. “And I love you, Sunshine. Always.”

Her smile was enough to light up the entire room, and as our mouths found each other again, the sounds of the locker room celebration faded away.

I slid my hands over her strong body and I dropped to my knees, making quick work of the button on her suit pants.

“What are you doing? Someone could walk in.”

“Celebrating,” I responded, yanking the fabric down her toned legs to reveal her hot pink silk underwear. I about choked at the sight, my fingers grazing over her ass and her already wet pussy. This pounding in my chest had to be what a heart attack felt like.

Death by pussy sounded like a fucking great way to go to me.

“So wet, darlin’,” I growled, pressing her back against the cinderblock and spreading her legs wide. “And I’m about to add to it.” I licked over her silk-covered center, relishing in her moan.

Some players dreamt about drinking champagne out of the Stanley Cup, but that wasn’t how I wanted my bubbly. Picking up the already opened bottle, I poured it down the front of her white tank top, lapping up the liquid at the apex of her thighs.

“Fuck, Dalton.” Her voice shook, and I pressed my mouth against her pussy, teasing her the way I knew she liked. Alternating between hard and soft licks before the fabric got in my way, and I ripped her panties down too.

Those little gasps were like a drug, and I wasted no time pressing the flat of my tongue on her swollen clit until her legs shook around me.

Regular champagne would never be good enough now. Fuck, nothing would be good enough unless I was lapping it up straight from between her thighs.

She begged me for more, hair swishing back and forth as she shook her head. I got her right to the brink before slowing a few times, edging her so I could watch her writhe in pleasure.

“I swear, Dalton.”

She shivered as I chuckled against her clit, the vibration causing her to spasm. “You’re doing so good,” I said, latching back onto her clit and sucking right as I slipped a finger in. Then a second. By the third, she fell apart on my tongue.

“Did I do a good job fucking with my fingers, Coach?” I asked, smiling up at her when she had finally finished shaking. I barely got the words out before she tackled me to the ground.

“Star fucking athlete, but I’d really like you to fuck me with something else.” She frantically pulled my shorts down my hips, gripping the length of my cock in her hands.

I was so hard it hurt.

“Fuck,” I breathed, my head falling back as she pumped me, dipping down to lick the head of my cock. Those sinfully beautiful eyes locked on me, cataloging every reaction on my face to the witchcraft she was performing with her mouth.