Page 7 of Penalty Zone

Leo

My face hits the bed first, and I don’t stop the fall with my hands. Despite the pillows, my nose takes the brunt of the fall and aches. I brush it to make sure it’s not bleeding. It’s not, but that’s a minor consolation for what happened. That tops my list of craziest experiences. Ten minutes that lasted twenty years and put a thousand more gray hairs on my head.

I roll over in my king bed, and although my lights are off, the room glows from the city across the Hudson. The apartment came furnished with high-end modern pieces that are a little stark for my taste. All that stainless steel and glass and the seventy-inch TV provided reflections of Caleb wavering between fear and longing. The fear disappeared quickly.

Caleb Benz is off-limits and my son’s best friend. My son, who acted as if dinner with me was a punishment.

Mason is too Americanized to pretend our relationship is fine, and I’m beginning to wonder if my grand plan of moving here is a mistake.

Clearly, Mason didn’t want to be here tonight and invited Caleb as a buffer between us. Caleb didn’t stop talking. He carried on a conversation with Mason and me for twenty-two minutes when neither of us said a word. If we were at the rink, I’d tell him to stop talking, but the alternative was a silent dinner or single-word answers from Mason. I could tell when Caleb thought Mason’s snarky comments were funny and when he thought they crossed a line. He approved of my praise of Mason and disliked it when I tried to coach him.

Caleb’s the bigger mistake. Every expression flits across his face, as easy to read as a book. It’s his best and worst quality. His heart is visible from the outside, and he doesn’t have a deceptive bone in his body. He’s woken up the part of me I hid for the sake of my career and my legacy. The part that is attracted to men. Attracted tohim.

As soon as I realized he’d come back, I should have demanded he leave. I should have called him out for spying on me. But his shock was evident, and there was nothing orchestrated or manipulative in his manner.

He stood there slack-jawed with his tongue running over his bottom lip. His eyes glowing in the dark, illuminated by the devil to lure me in.

Caleb’s lust hypnotized me. Naked and raw and hungry. His gaze was unlike any I’d experienced. So obvious and vulnerable at the same time.

I allowed him to watch me.

After my divorce, it was difficult to tell who wanted me as a man and who wanted me as a rich celebrity. One woman fooled me for too long. My son takes after me in that we both prefer to stay in. We’re introverts. I’ve attended many events and galas, all of them for my job. I minimize my public appearances. When she figured that out, I became far less appealing, and she ended our relationship.

Caleb has fame, and if he’s smart, he’s building a fortune. In the past, he might have idolized me, but as my son’s friend, he’s taken Mason’s side.

He eyed me with bona fide attraction as a man, not a hockey player or a millionaire, simply a naked man in his kitchen.

I could’ve easily taken a willing Benz. I’m not proud of myself for exhibiting basic human decency, but a small part of me feels relieved I didn’t act on it. And another larger part wants to warn him. Many men and women will exploit his heart and use him.

Alone in my bedroom, in the dark, I can admit there’s no excuse for what I did. I knew he was there and removed my towel to show him more. Giving in against my better judgment.

His yearning radiated across the room, worked its way into my brain until I craved more. Needing his attention and his reaction to mine. The room had pulsed with the electricity between us. I barely held on to my sanity, afraid that if I moved, my feet would take me directly to him.

If I’d gone near him, I’d have let him touch me. Allowed his big hands to roam over my chest, callouses snagging on hair and pebbling my nipples. Caleb would continue until he got lower and reached for my cock. His hands have handled a stick with precision and without mercy. The idea of him using my cock that way has my body on edge. Twisting his grip and working my shaft.

But then, I’d want him on his knees. The pure bliss on his face when I make a demand is irresistible. This week, I’ve tested my theories, and Caleb flourishes with rules and structure. He’s at his best when told exactly what is expected of him.

He accepts a “good job” but beams when I say “your reaction time is better than most All-Star goalies.” The more specific the praise, the better performance he gives.

I have no doubt he’ll be the same in the bedroom. He needs someone who understands his preference to let go of controland can help him explore that side. Someone who will take care of him and provide the aftercare he’ll need once he submits completely.

My cock thickens and aches for a touch. It’s suddenly discerning and not happy with my hand. Too bad.

My hand jacks my cock as I envision Caleb peering up at me, eyes framed by his dark lashes, mouth stretched around my cock, smiling when I tell him how hot and wet his mouth feels.

The picture’s so vivid, I spill all over my chest, toes flexed, free hand clutching the sheets.

My cum cools and reality strikes.

Any relationship beyond professional with Caleb will hurt my son. I can’t do that.

Ten years ago, sex with no emotional attachment would’ve appealed to me. Now I’m too old for that.

Tonight, I had a weak lapse in judgment, resulting from not having a man’s hands on me in ages. Every time I did, I used a fake name, and we had rushed mutual orgasms, never to meet again.

Caleb’s everything I desire, but he’s not meant for me.

We are a mistake.

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