Page 61 of Delayed Penalty

“Yeah, yeah. I still scored first!” the perpetual grump hollers back as he skates onto the ice to celebrate, but even I can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

Me? All I can focus on are the two girls in the crowd. They look happier than anyone else in this arena, and damn if that doesn’t feel good.

I finally walk into the house at nearly midnight, having had to do far too many post-game pressers, if you ask me. It’s quiet and dark save for the soft under-cabinet lights in the kitchen. I have no doubt Flora is already in bed, and Quinn likely is too.

I toe off the dress shoes I hate wearing and head straight to the kitchen. I pull out an electrolyte drink from the fridge and down half of it in one go while I work to get my heart rate down, still running high from the adrenaline from the game.

I’m always like this afterward. It usually takes me a few hours to calm down properly so I canrelax and get some rest. It’s a blessing because it gives me time to go over the game and see where I can improve, but it’s a curse for the exact same reason.

Tonight is even worse with how heightened my emotions were having Quinn and Flora there. The look on the kid’s face when I scored, Quinn looking at me like she wanted to rip my clothes off right there…I don’t know which one affected me more.

I finish the drink and toss it in the recycling before shutting off the lights and making my way to my room. I have my hand on the door, ready to turn in for the night when I hear a soft noise coming from just down the hall.

I sneak close to Flora’s room and press my ear against the door. Maybe she’s getting up for pickles again? Or maybe she’s sneaking more chapters of her book? But there’s nothing.

Hmm.It must be coming from Quinn’s room, then. Curious, I inch closer, and it’s clear that the sound is definitely coming from her room. I can’t make out what it is. It’s like a soft buzz, almost like a phone against a bedside table. Or like a?—

Oh fuck.

No. There’s no way it’s what I think it is. Is there?

I hear it, and it’s unmistakable.

A moan.Hermoan. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, and I immediately want to hear it again. Ishuffle closer. Apparentlytooclose because my foot hits the door and it slowly creaks open.

Fuck!

I scramble away, pressing my back against the wall next to the door, holding my breath as I wait for the buzzing to stop and Quinn to burst out of her room and lay into me as I deserve.

But it never happens. The buzzing continues, and I swear I hear Quinn moan again. My cock, already stirring against my slacks, stiffens at the sound, andfuck me,I want to see. I want to see her so badly I can’t stand it. Just a tiny peek. A glimpse. That’s all I want. I?—

“Oh, Hayes. Yes, right there,” she whispers, and it’s my official undoing.

I don’t know what possesses me to do it. Maybe it’s the lingering rush from the game, or maybe it’s just because I really fucking want to. I push the door open, the light spilling across her face.

She doesn’t freak out. She doesn’t stop.

No. Quinn stares right at me, her lips parting as her chest heaves, her hand still under the blanket, the toy still buzzing, the sound much louder now that I’m closer. I step inside the dark room and close the door behind me with a softclick. I wait. For her to tell me to get the fuck out. To scream. To give any indication at all that I’m not welcome here.

She does nothing.

My eyes adjust to the dark, and I use the moonlight spilling in through the window to guide me closer, not stopping until I’m at the edge of the bed and standing over her. I pause again, waiting once more for her to object, but still, she doesn’t.

She swallows harshly as she watches me, and I get it. I feel the same way. Like I gulped down that electrolyte drink hours ago instead of minutes. I fist the sheet, tugging it down to reveal just what it is she’s doing under the blanket, andholy fuckis it a beautiful sight. She’s wearing nothing but her Serpents jersey, her pink cunt shrouded by black curls on full display, and a pink toy is pressed between her spread legs.

Now it’smewho swallows roughly, watching as she drags the toy in soft circles, the moonbeam catching her wetness with every stroke as she stares up at me with hooded eyes.

It’s fucking gorgeous.She’sfucking gorgeous.

I can’t help myself when I reach out, my fingers coasting over her soft thighs. Her breath stutters at the contact, her skin instantly breaking out into goose bumps. I trace my fingertips over them, her movements never ceasing. I palm my aching cock with my other hand, trying to quell the pressure that’s building. I’ve never been so fucking close to coming just by watching someone, but I swear I could do thisall day, standing here as Quinn plays with her pretty pussy.

I could. But I really don’t want to. I want to touch her more. Ineedto touch her more.

I drag my fingertips closer to where the toy is pressed against her, and her breaths pick up. Her chest now resembles that of someone who has just run a marathon.

“Do it,” she whispers hoarsely into the dark room. “Touch me, Hayes.Please.”

The last word is my ruin.

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