12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Leo

For once I wish I had practice instead of the day off. Though, maybe not since I couldn’t sleep last night, not after facefucking Cat. My dick twitches in my pants at the memory.

I heard her moving around earlier this morning but stayed in my room. Wasn’t sure how to approach what the hell we did. Does she regret it?

She didn’t seem to. Just walked off to her room, as if we hooked up in a parking lot rather than the kitchen of my house.

And the worst part is, while I’m not exactly sure how she feels about what happened, it kept me awake most of the night. And hard.

The way she looked up at me with those big doe eyes, her lips curved in a wicked smile. She was so fucking wet, her pussy dripping as she rubbed herself while I fucked her mouth. That moan she let out around my cock, vibrating against my skin.

Hell, even the way she teased me until finally taking pity on me. And the way her warm, wet mouth sucked me in . . . Had to jerk off twice since getting the best blowjob of my damn life.

Which is a problem.

I rake my fingers through my hair, giving it a slight tug. Seriously, what the hell was I thinking?

I wasn’t, that’s the fucking problem.

And now I crossed a line with her.

One that Wyatt will punch me in the face for if he finds out about it. Nora will cut my balls off for sure.

Anything sexual with Cat will never—can’t ever—happen again.

Thank God the kids stayed asleep. Can’t imagine the shitshow that would’ve occurred if they’d walked in. Forget having to explain what we were actually doing, but . . . what if they thought Cat and I were together?

I shake my head.

No, this is why the rare times I hook up are during away games. It keeps everything distant. No relationships. No bonds between a person and the kids forming.

Or me.

I’m not ready for that. Don’t think I will ever be.

Definitely not putting myself through losing someone I love again.

Grabbing my phone, I read the text she sent fifteen minutes ago.

Cat: Stella and Mason ate breakfast. They’re watching TV. Heading out.

Since it’s my day off, it means the kids are with me. Unlocking my screen, I send her a text back.

Me: Thanks

Simple. To the point.

Heading down to the kitchen, I poke my head into the living room first. My daughter is curled up on the couch locked into some comedy show. My son isn’t with her so he must be downstairs.

At least I don’t have to deal with any bickering right now. Don’t really have the energy for it.

Grabbing an empty mug, I place it under the Keurig and hit the button, scrubbing my hands over my face, then look over at the clock on the oven.

Mason’s got to get ready for his game. Wyatt’s taking him since Stella has her dance recital today.

Sitting on the chair at the island, I stare out of the double French doors into the backyard. Weather’s overcast today, which makes me want to crawl back under the covers and sleep.

Stella wanders into the kitchen, grabbing some juice from the fridge. “Cat and Grandma Rosa are coming to the recital.”

“Oh?”

I knew Cat was, but I didn’t expect her grandmother too.

“Yeah, so make sure you look nice. Promise, no jeans.”

My gaze narrows at her. “Stella?”

She guzzles her juice, watching me over the glass, then sets it down with a thunk. “Ugh, Dad. Not like that. I mean, all the parents dress up. And Cat did too. She’s wearing work clothes. She looked so pretty when she left.”

Yeah, my daughter is up to something, because her facial muscles are so tense, it’s as if she’s fighting to keep a neutral expression.

“You don’t want to be the only one in jeans, right?” She quirks a brow.

“Got it. Now go finish watching your show so I can finish my coffee and get your brother ready.”

She places her glass in the sink, then skips off to the living room, and I catch the tiny smirk as she passes by.

Glad Cat is coming to the recital, especially since she and my daughter have gotten close. I don’t want to ruin that. Not for either of them.

Except my daughter is up to something, and with what happened last night, things between Cat and me may be awkward to say the least—the consequences of my stupid actions.

The one silver lining in this whole situation is Mason’s sleeping over at Jake’s. My son is way too perceptive, almost as perceptive as his sister, and trying to hide the tension from both of them will be difficult.

Then again . . . that also means he’ll be hanging around Wyatt and God fucking knows what bad habits he’ll pick up this time. I swear my friend teaches my son something new and annoying just to get on my nerves.

Like wafting a fucking fart into my face.

After rinsing out my cup and putting it into the dishwasher, I head back to my room to get ready.

Except my thoughts keep drifting to Cat, to the way she gagged, saliva dripping down her chin. Even when I bucked wildly and her eyes watered, she only sucked me harder.

Fuck.

I take the stairs two at a time, trying to ignore the growing bulge in my joggers. Once inside my bedroom, I barely restrain myself from slamming the door shut. I lock the door, not wanting Stella to walk in on me at this moment.

Not when my cock is jutting out, hard and aching, leaving a wet spot on my joggers.

I strip off my T-shirt, letting it fall to the ground, the cool air hitting my skin, a contrast to the heat coursing through me.

My joggers are next, because no matter how much I want to ignore it, I need to get off. My cock is hard and red, the tip leaking precum. I wrap my hand around the shaft, squeezing tightly as I walk toward the bed.

I sit on the edge of the mattress, my feet planted firmly on the ground. I can see myself in the mirror across the room, my reflection staring back at me—feral, wild, not someone I recognize.

My gaze lowers to the reflection of my hand as it moves up and down my length, my grip tightening and my hips giving a buck. “Fuck.”

Leaning back a bit, I plant my other hand on the mattress and widen my legs. My eyes close and I let my fantasy of Cat take over as I stroke myself. I picture her swollen lips wrapped around me, those perky tits I want to come all over.

“Like sucking my cock, Hellcat? I want to hear you choke on it again.”

The pleasure builds, the familiar tingling present. I open my eyes, once again staring at my reflection in the mirror. But what surprises me is the way my knees fall open wider and my hand moves faster

“Oh, fuck.”

My abdomen contracts and I start fucking into my fist, my eyes locked on the reflection of my cock. Fuck, would Cat like seeing this? Would she like watching me?

The thought pushes me over the edge and I come hard, spilling over my hand. When I’m done I flop backward onto the bed and try to catch my breath, my spent cock still twitching.

I didn’t think Cat sucking me off could feel that good. Nor that it would flip on a switch to make me act like a fourteen-year-old who can barely keep his hands off himself.

And if getting head was great because it was Cat, sex with her will be life changing.

Nope.

Can’t go there.

The auditorium lights dim, plunging the space into a hushed darkness. I scan the crowd, my eyes straining to spot Cat's familiar curls. No luck. A pang of disappointment hits me, followed quickly by worry.

Are they okay? Maybe something happened to Rosa.

The curtain rises, a sea of tulle and satin flooding the stage, and I sink into the chair. My eyes lock onto Stella immediately. She moves with precision, every step, every twirl executed perfectly.

But there's something missing. Her movements are a bit robotic, like there’s no passion behind them.

Maybe she’s too busy concentrating on not messing up.

Like Mason.

When my son first began to play hockey, it felt like he was going through the motions—

technically correct but mechanical. I often wondered if he really enjoyed the sport or felt he needed to play for me. But as he became more comfortable with plays, he relaxed, then added his own style.

I’m sure the same is probably going on with my daughter. Hell, not sure I’d remember half of what she needs to do—from position to movement to pose. And let’s not forget being synchronized.

Eventually, the final notes of the music fade, and Stella takes her bow. Pride swells in my chest, but it's tinged with sadness. How will she react when she realizes Cat isn't here?

Truthfully, I’m disappointed myself.

I take the show pamphlet, fold it, then tuck it away in my pocket. The aisle is packed with parents and kids. But when I turn toward the auditorium exit, I spot Cat against the wall.

She doesn’t see me. Her face is pinched as she turns to say something to Rosa. When she faces forward again, our eyes lock. The smile that spreads across her face sends a wave of warmth through me I'm not prepared for.

Maybe I’m just glad she showed up, and relieved nothing serious happened to prevent her from being here.

“Dad!” Stella's voice cuts through the crowd noise. She barrels toward me, her arms wrapping around my leg. “I’m glad you came,” Stella adds, letting go of me and hugging her small arms around Rosa as the two women approach.

Rosa pats Stella’s head, her wrinkled hand adorned in glittering rings. After, my daughter hugs Cat before grabbing her hand and pulling her forward.

“Dad,” she says, her grin mischievous. “Doesn’t Cat look so pretty tonight?”

I cough into my hand, caught off-guard, then straighten. “Y-yes, she does.”

My daughter looks over at Rosa and winks.

What the fuck?

I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but the last thing I need is meddling where it’s not welcome. And while both of us were far from professional last night, we need Cat—I need Cat—right now . . . in a professional capacity.

“Going to go say bye to Brittney.”

My daughter starts to walk off when I grab her wrist. “Who’s Brittney?”

“My friend. She’s leaving with her mom.” Stella points to the glass doors that lead to the parking lot.

“You can’t go into the parking lot alone.”

“I’ll go with her,” Cat says, taking her hand. “Come on.”

I shove my hands in my pockets, wishing I could disappear. Is this what the other dads on the team feel like? Out of place. A third wheel. I don’t even know the kids in my daughter’s own dance class.

“You like my granddaughter.”

I pull my gaze away from Cat and my daughter, looking down at Rosa, straightening to my full height. “She’s good with my kids. They like her.”

“And so do you.” Her smile is all-knowing and slightly wicked at the same time. “Your face. It gives it all away.”

I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. “Are you feeling better?”

Rosa purses her lips, her bangle bracelets catching the light as she waves dismissively. “I’m fine. Don’t I look great?”

I face her fully, curiosity getting the better of me. “You two looked like you were fighting earlier.”

Rosa sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes and her head. “Ay, my granddaughter hired a health aide. She acts as if I can’t take care of myself anymore. I don’t know why she’s intent on making me live with someone. I like my peace.”

And to that, I have no reply. Because the truth is, I used to like my peace too. Until a whirlwind of curls and sass and intelligence invaded my home, my thoughts, and as much as I hate to admit it . . . has started working her way into my heart.