Page 97 of Delayed Penalty

“You’re right. A nap sounds nice right now.”

“Why do you need a nap? You haven’t done anything all day.”

“Supervising is very tough work, you know.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I’mthoroughlyexhausted.”

“Oh, I doubt that, honey.”

She lets out a shriek as I roll over on top of her,burying my face in her neck. I press my lips below her ear, then over her jaw, not stopping until my lips are on hers.

Butterscotch.Always fucking butterscotch.

I kiss her until she’s writhing underneath me, silently pleading for more with her body. It’s been like this a lot with us lately, stolen moments where we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other.

Like the one where Hutch caught us. I still haven’t talked to him about it, and I’m trying to put that off as long as possible because I know he’ll have nothing positive to say about it. How could he? I hired Quinn to help me with Flora, not dry-hump me in the middle of the day. I know we should probably stop before we get carried away and nothing else gets done on this playset, but I can’t seem to find it in me to break away from her.

So I don’t. Instead, I slide my hand down her leg and bunch her skirt in my hand, pulling it up, up, up until her warm pussy is pressed to my cock that’s been straining against my jeans all afternoon.

“Shit,” she mutters, arching her hips into me. “That feels so good, Hayes.”

She sounds so needy, like I didn’t fuck her against the door the second she got home from dropping Flora off at school.

“We should probably go inside,” she suggests whenI finger the edge of her underwear, seeking access to my favorite place.

“Why? You scared someone will see us?”

She nods, and I laugh.

“There’s no one here but us. Mr. Potts, who lives to the left, goes out to lunch with his daughter every Thursday. And the Yorks to the right won’t be back until at least five thirty.” I kiss her softly. “So if you want me to fuck you right here in this backyard, just say the word.”

Her hazel eyes, a little more on the green side today, spark with heat, and she nods frantically, pulling at the button on my jeans.

“Ah, ah, ah.” I move my hips out of her reach, and she frowns. “Use your words, Quinny.”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Shut up and fuck me, Adam.”

She undoes my pants, shoving them down my ass just far enough, and I slide her panties to the side, slamming into her with zero finesse. I don’t care that it’s sloppy and has zero rhythm. I don’t care that I’m kneeling on top of the playset instructions or that I lied and have no clue if Mr. Potts is at lunch right now.

All I care about are the sounds Quinn is making, the way her cunt is gripping me tightly, and the way she calls my name when she falls apart around me.

I’m starting to wonder if I should care about why I don’t care at all.

“Motherfucker!” Keller slams his stick against the board, snapping it right in half.

Nobody reacts, completely used to his outbursts. I don’t blame him. Once again, we’re sucking when we should be winning. It’s frustrating that we can beat some of the best teams in the league, then struggle against teams we should easily outplay.

“Come on, Fox. Come on, come on, come on,” Lawson mutters beside me as the Chicago player barrels down.

We’ve both been benched for the last ten minutes, Coach Smith trying to send the message that we need to get our shit together.

“Son of a bitch!” he yells as the opposing player sends the puck soaring past our goalie.

Fox sits in the net on his knees, hanging his head. He’s done for the night. Coach isn’t going to let him stay in after that soft goal. Dash, our other goalie, puts his helmet on and readies himself to hit the ice. Fox skates slowly toward the bench, his shoulders sunkenin, and I know the guy is going to be beating himself up over this.

It’s just not our night. Sometimes you have games where you just suck, and this is one of them.

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