Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

HAYES

It's funny that I preached patience when I clearly had none, not even able to pull her bra off all the way before I had to have my mouth on her.

But now, seeing her like this, her tits hanging out as she rides my cock into oblivion, I can't seem to care. Fuck, she's beautiful. Her hair is a tangled mess from my hands, her cheeks are flushed from exertion, and there are red marks from my beard across her chest. So fucking impatient for my cock she didn't even take her underwear off.

I love it, even though I shouldn't. This is so wrong. She's my nanny. I shouldn't be fucking her in the living room in the middle of the day. Hell, I shouldn't be fucking her at all. I should be keeping my hands off her. We should be putting so much distance between us we have to shout at each other to be heard.

But I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I don't want to be responsible anymore. I just want to have fun, and right now, this is really fucking fun.

Hands behind her back, Quinn bounces on my lap, her movements frantic yet rhythmic as her pussy squeezes me tight. She was worried about me not fitting, but I'm only worried about never being the same. How could I be after this? After knowing how good she feels? How her greedy cunt takes me so easily? How am I supposed to go back to polite conversation over donuts and bagels? How am I supposed to go back to talking about school schedules and all that other mundane shit? How will I ever be able to focus knowing this is what she feels like?

I palm her tit, rolling her rosy nipple between my fingers before inching upward, curling my fingers around her throat. She doesn't lean away. No, she leans into it, wanting it. I apply a bit of pressure, and she moans, the sound vibrating through my hand.

"That feels so good. I'm so close, Hayes." Her eyes are barely open, so lost in the lust. "Please tell me you're close."

"I'm close," I promise, barely able to hold back.

I've been masturbating far too much since we first kissed, but it's still never been enough to stave off my want for her. The fact that I'm holding back so much right now tells me it was never going to be .

"I need…" she pleads, and I know just what she's begging for.

I press my free thumb against her clit, and she lets out a low moan, sinking into my touch.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chants. "More."

I oblige, drawing short circles over her sensitive button as she rides me faster, harder, my hand tightening around her throat. I'm not sure which of us actually lets go first. Maybe it's her cunt squeezing me so tightly that causes the chain reaction, or maybe I'm just that unable to control myself. Her entire body shakes as she comes, and I follow right along with her.

" Adam! " she screams, just as I promised I'd make her do, and I stare into her hazel eyes as I surge up into her, wringing out every last drop of her orgasm that I can.

She slumps forward, collapsing against me. As we struggle to catch our breaths, all I can think is It's not enough. I want more. I need more.

I lift us off the couch in one swift motion, and she doesn't even argue as I carry her through the house and into her bedroom. I lay her back on the bed and crawl over her, sliding back inside her warmth, my cock still hard and ready to go again.

"Yes," she moans as I rock into her. "More."

I give her more, give her everything I have, fucking her slowly at first, then hard and fast. She eats it up, begging for me to touch and kiss her, so I do. I press my lips to hers, then down her chin, over her neck, and suck on her sweet nipples. I touch her everywhere I can because I don't know if this will be the last time. It certainly should be.

Only when I've had my fill do I let go, spilling into her again as she comes for a second time. As I slide out of her and crawl up beside her in bed, tucking her against me, all I can think is, It's still not enough.

I wake a short time later, and it takes me a moment to realize where I am. That familiar scent of butterscotch hits me, and I know.

Quinn.

I circle my arm around her waist, pulling her back tighter against me, and she sighs when I drag my hand down, holding her pussy. But I don't take it any further. We just lie there as I hold her, my mind reeling from what happened earlier.

One minute I was annoyed with her for being so damn stubborn and walking to God knows where, then the next, I was kissing her. I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried. She was yelling at me, her hazel eyes so full of fire, looking so fucking cute with her lips pinched together, and I couldn't help myself—I had to taste her again.

Like she knows I'm thinking about her, she wiggles back against me, dragging her ass over my already hard cock.

"Are you sore?" I ask when she does it again.

I don't know why I'm asking. I've never cared with previous partners. I've always just taken what I wanted, when I wanted it, and they offered it willingly.

She shakes her head. "No. I'm good."

"Good."

In one swift movement, I roll her to her back, sliding over her and fitting myself between her legs like it's where I belong. Her eyes are bright with mischief as I settle against her.

"Hi."

"Hi back," I say, then I kiss her just because I can.

A quick kiss turns into something more heated, far faster than I expected, and soon, I'm sliding my cock against her soaked slit, wanting another round.

"Fuck, you feel so good."

"You too," she murmurs, dragging my lips back to hers.

But I wrench my mouth free before she can get too carried away, and she whimpers. Her sounds of displeasure soon turn to joy as I kiss my way down her body, shouldering my way between her thighs .

"Is this okay?" I ask.

Why? Why do I care?

She nods.

"Good. Now, eyes on me, honey."

She pushes up on her elbows, watching as I slide my tongue over her clit, her hips bucking off the bed. I get it. I do. She tastes so fucking good, and I don't even care that I came inside her twice and can taste the saltiness of myself on my tongue. It's not enough to deter me, especially not when she's looking at me like she is—like she'll die if I don't taste her again.

I drag my tongue back over her clit, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. She begins to close her eyes, then she snaps them open wide like she's just remembered my instructions.

I chuckle against her. "Good girl. Keep them open."

She nods her head vehemently as I lick at her more, touching every inch of her I can find before I suck her clit into my mouth with a force that has her crying out.

"Attagirl. Scream for me, Quinny. Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"You!" Her eyes flutter closed against her will. "You, Adam. My pussy belongs to you."

"You're damn right it does."

I curl two fingers into her, and she's nothing but a heap of sighs and moans as she bucks against me, coming all over my tongue and my hand.

And yet, it's still not enough.

I crawl back up her body, taking her mouth in a heated kiss. This time it's me who sighs as I sink into her, her pussy gripping me like it's welcoming me back home.

Being inside her like this does feel like home. It feels like everything I never knew I wanted, which is ridiculous because she drives me crazy half the time, her smart mouth and her eye rolls and her inability to take no for an answer. I don't even like her, yet I fuck her slow, then fast, then slow again, and she clings to me all the while, sighing in my ear and begging for more. I don't stop when she shatters around me again, nor when I fill her with my cum again.

When the last of my orgasm is squeezed out of me, only then do I slow my pace until I'm just lying on top of her, our lips barely brushing together, the taste of butterscotch and her on my tongue.

"You're kind of heavy," she mutters, shoving against me lightly.

I laugh, rolling off and tugging her to my side because I can't seem to not touch her. "That's rude."

"Not sorry. Now I can breathe."

She slides her fingers through the hair on my chest, her ear pressed against my heart, and there's no way she doesn't hear how hard it's thumping right now. I could say it's from the nonstop sex or an aftereffect of my orgasm, but it would be a lie.

It's her. It's Quinn. It's being this close to her.

I have no fucking clue how to feel about that.

"Hey, Hayes?" she asks after several quiet minutes.

"Yeah?"

"What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

She leans up on her elbow, shooting daggers my way. "What do you mean what do you mean ? I mean, what are we going to do about this ?" She wags her finger between us. "Where do we go from here?"

"I…"

I don't say anything because I don't have a good answer for her. The right answer would be to chalk this up to getting it out of our systems and walk away, or for me to fire her. I don't want to do either of those things.

I want more of this. More of her.

But I also know it's wrong. I'm supposed to be turning my life around, improving myself, setting an example for my niece. I'm not supposed to be fucking her nanny.

"Where do you want to go from here?" I flip the question to her.

She nibbles on her bottom lip, thinking about it for a moment. "Well, I certainly enjoyed what just happened."

"Me too."

"What if we just…do this?" she asks.

"Do what?"

"You know, fool around."

I raise my brows. "I'd call what we did more than just fooling around ."

She rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean. Fucking. " The word goes straight to my dick, which has no business being half-hard again. "What if we just keep doing it? A friends-with-benefits sort of thing."

"But we're not friends. I'm your boss, and you're my employee."

It's funny because a few months ago, I wouldn't have cared one bit about power dynamics. I would have taken what I wanted from her and forgotten about her when I was done. Now though…now it feels like regressing, and for the first time in my life, I don't want to regress.

Even so, I'm not sure this one afternoon together was enough either.

"I'm not going to report you to HR, if that's what you're worried about. Wait, do we even have HR?"

"Honey, I am HR."

She smiles. "Say that again."

"I am HR. "

"No. The other part."

I think back to what I just said. "Honey?"

She nods, the tops of her cheeks turning pink. "I like that."

"You do, huh?" Another nod. "Well, that's interesting… honey ."

She giggles. "Okay, stop. We're trying to have a serious conversation here."

"I'm sorry, honey . I'll stop."

"Hayes…"

"Yes, honey ?"

"See? That's why this is perfect. You're so annoying. I could never fall for you."

I laugh, but there's just a hint of unease that settles into my chest, and I don't know what it means.

"So, friends-with-benefits type thing, then, huh?" I ask.

"Yep. Just sex."

"Just sex." I nod.

"Flora could never find out."

"No. Of course not. We keep her out of this entirely."

The last thing I want is for her to get too attached to Quinn or the idea of us together because that's certainly not happening. We're just having fun. That's all.

"And when we've both had our fill, we walk away. No harm, no foul," she says. I'm not sure if she's trying to convince me, herself, or both.

"The perfect plan," I echo.

But as Quinn tucks herself against me again and snuggles close, it doesn't feel like the perfect plan. In fact, it feels like I'm making a huge mistake.

Even so, I can't find it in me to stop.

"Fuck!" Keller throws his glove down the hall, and our poor equipment manager has to duck to miss being hit by it.

We lost in overtime. Sure, it's only our second game of the season and we still got a point, but we all know every point matters, especially when we should have had no problem beating the team we played tonight.

I can't help but feel guilty, having taken two penalties, allowing Winnipeg the chance to test their power play against us and score on it both times. If I had just stayed out of the box, we could have won and walked away with both points. But no. I couldn't stay out of trouble. Again.

"Hey, Kells, you dropped your glove," Lawson says, picking it up and chucking it back at him, smacking him right in the back of the head with it. Leave it to Lawson to screw with Keller even when he's moments away from exploding.

I get where Keller is coming from though. We should have been better out there. I should have been better out there, but I wasn't, and I know exactly why. My mind was stuck halfway between watching my teammates battle for pucks and remembering what it felt like between Quinn's thighs this afternoon. We rolled around in her bed for hours, touching each other until she absolutely had to go pick up Flora. Though I hated the idea of washing the scent of her away, I hopped in the shower when she was gone, and by the time I got out, they were back and things were just as Quinn had promised—normal. There were no lingering looks, no secret touches. We went about our usual routine. There was no way anybody would have been able to tell what we were doing all afternoon.

But I knew.

Every look at her was a reminder of how soft her skin was. Every laugh or sigh was a reminder of how she sounded under me. And every time she looked at me, all I could think of was how she looked when she came, my cock buried deep inside her.

I carried those reminders with me on the drive to the arena, all throughout warmups, and not once did I shake the images as I stepped onto the ice even though I should have been paying attention to the game. She distracted me, and she wasn't even here.

"I'm sorry," Fox says as we pile into the locker room, our heads hanging low. "Fuck, I should have made those saves. This is all my fault."

"It's on me," I say, taking the blame. "You were great, Foxy."

"I wasn't. I sucked. I?—"

"Would you sad sacks knock it the fuck off?" Hutch stops at the top of the room, hands on his hips as he commands our attention. "It wasn't any one person's fault. We're a team, remember? Always we, never I. We play out there together. Losing that extra point was a team effort."

"More like non -effort," Lawson grumbles, then cowers back into his stall when Hutch shoots him a nasty look.

"Stop beating yourselves up. Yeah, we should have kicked their asses all day long, but we still skated away with a point, and that's better than none. Now we regroup and play better the next game. Heard?"

There are a few mumbled Heard s through the room, but they're barely audible.

"I said, fucking heard ?" our captain yells.

"Heard!" we repeat back, clapping twice.

"Good. Now, rest up tonight. We're hitting the ice first thing tomorrow. "

He stomps over to his stall and begins removing his pads just as Coach Smith walks into the room.

"Well, I was going to come in here with a speech, but it looks like Hutchinson had a peek at my notes because he just said everything I was going to." Coach nods at Hutch, mutual respect and understanding in the simple gesture. "Eight AM tomorrow. Tell your wives, husbands, partners and whoever else you need to tell that it's going to be a long one. We're running PP and PK until I'm satisfied, got it?" We all nod. "Hayes?"

I snap my head up. "Yeah, Coach?"

"Meet me in my office whenever you're done."

I swallow down the bile that's trying to work its way free. "Yes, Coach."

He leaves without another word, and the room is unusually quiet as we all strip off our gear and hit the showers. I don't rush through my post-game routine, but I don't dawdle either, knowing Coach wants to talk to me. I have no doubt it's about the piss-poor excuse of a game I just played.

Fuck, it's only the second game of the season and I'm already being called into the office. This is the exact opposite of what I wanted this year.

"Think a few of us are going to hit up Top Shelf. Want us to save you a seat?" Fox asks .

I shake my head. "Nah. Gotta get home to the kid."

He shakes his head. "Don't think I'm ever going to get used to hearing that."

I don't think I'll ever get used to saying it.

When there are just a few stragglers left, I make my way to Coach Smith's office. I figure if he's going to yell at me, might as well have as minimal an audience as I can get.

"Hayes," he says as I step through the doorway. "Have a seat."

He tosses his pen onto his desk, sitting back in his chair as I take the one opposite him. He runs a hand through his black and gray beard before placing it over his stomach, interlocking it with the other. The position screams relaxed, but it doesn't make my shoulders any less tense. He notices.

"You can relax. I'm not here to chew you out for those penalties you took."

My shoulders sink just an inch.

"We all have shit games. It happens. Of course, if this becomes a pattern like it was back in North Carolina, then we have a problem."

He levels me with those all-knowing brown eyes of his.

I shake my head. "No pattern, Coach. "

"Good." He nods. "Now, how are things at home? How's it going with your niece? She adjusting okay?"

I smile just thinking of her. She was asking so many questions before I left.

"Why are you wearing funeral clothes?"

"Why can't Just Quinn and I come to the game?"

"Do I really have to go to school tomorrow?"

"Flora's good," I tell him. "She's really coming out of her shell."

"And you've got your nanny situation all settled?"

My nanny.

My nanny who I know tastes like butterscotch.

My nanny who I know sounds like the most beautiful symphony ever penned when she comes.

My nanny who I spent the entire afternoon fucking.

I shift in my chair. "Yeah, I got it figured out."

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it. I won't lie, while I was eager to get my first NHL coaching job, I was a little worried when I saw your name on the roster. Don't think I've forgotten all the shit you pulled with the Comets."

I grimace. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'm…I'm not that guy anymore."

Or at least I hope I'm not that guy anymore, despite what I'm doing with Quinn.

"No, you're not. You're a good guy, Hayes. You have a bright future ahead of you and now you have that little girl to take care of. You need to set a good example for her, so if you don't keep on the straight and narrow for you, do it for her. Make good choices for her."

Make good choices for her. It sounds so simple, so easy. Yet I've already majorly fucked it up by screwing the first person in her life she's actually opened up to. I'm such a piece of shit.

"I will," I promise, hoping he can't tell it's a lie.

"Good. You're bringing the kid to the family skate, right?"

It's something new Coach Smith is starting this year. He wants us to bring our families to the rink so we can all get to know one another. Even the guys who don't have anyone like Keller, Fox, and Locke have to come too. Even they have to "bring that homeless guy who lives down by the arena," Coach said. So, I guess we're all going.

"Yep. We'll be there."

I should probably mention this to Quinn at some point. I meant to tell her yesterday, but I was too busy avoiding her. Then the plan was to tell her today, but I was too busy not avoiding her and forgot.

"Feel free to invite your nanny too. The more the merrier."

Bring Quinn around the guys? That sounds…da ngerous. Although her brother is a hockey player, so I'm sure she's used to their bullshit. Plus, their families will be here, which should mean they'll all be on their best behavior. At least they better be.

"I'll ask her about it."

"Good. Now get out of here." He flicks his chin toward the door. "You boys have a long, long day tomorrow."

"Good night, Coach."

"Night, kid."

I practically run from his office, eager to get away from his sage words that make me feel like shit.

Make good choices for her.

I think of it the whole way home. Through every traffic light and turn, it's on my mind. Even when I pull into the driveway, the house dark, I'm still thinking of it. When I walk inside and have my usual post-game drink, it's right there at the forefront. And when I walk past my room and straight into Quinn's, those words are practically on repeat.

Make good choices for her.

But I don't.

And I have nobody to blame for it but myself.