Delayed Penalty (Empire State Hockey #5)

Chapter 21 – Avery

Chapter Twenty-One

Avery

I haven’t been able to stop staring at my ring since Harris dropped that bomb earlier tonight at the bar, the heaviness of that topic, of those memories all feel weighted down in this beautiful diamond.

To know he’s had this ring for six years, to learn the dreams I thought were one-sided all these years truly weren’t.

It’s confusing as fuck, if I’m being honest.

I can’t figure out what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to until I get to sit down and talk to him.

That’s how it was the rest of the night at Hudson’s, even now as I sit in his kitchen while he’s changing before coming back out. I want to know everything. I want to know what happened from his perspective, because I’m starting to think I spent the last six years of my life trusting and loving a man who did nothing but lie and deceive me.

I’m still in the same spot sitting on his kitchen island when Harris finally comes back out.

“Sorry, I just needed out of those jeans,” he says quietly as he heads to the fridge and grabs us each a water. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking up finally, taking the water as he leans up against the counter.

He looks broken, lost, as confused as I feel, and it makes me feel broken for us.

“I’m starting to question everything, Harris. Literally everything.”

“Me too,” he says solemnly.

“You’ve really had this ring for six years?” I ask, out of the blue.

“Yes. I picked it up from Kylie, Cade’s little sister who was in town for the weekend. I met her for lunch, picked up the ring my mom sent with her, then went and had it cleaned and sized and went to go talk to your father to ask for permission.”

“You went to my parents’ house? Why am I just now hearing about this?” I ask, thinking back to that weekend, trying to recall any mention of my parents seeing Harris. There’s no way. If I had known my parents had seen Harris, I probably would’ve thought twice about believing that letter.

I mean, I’d like to believe I would have.

“I got intercepted outside. As I’m sure you know, Peter’s dad is on the coaching staff for my college team. When I went over to your parents’ house he was there and stopped me from going in. Told me your parents weren’t there and that they wouldn’t want to see me anyway.”

“Are you kidding me? He actually said that?”

I feel like my blood is boiling. I’m so angry, I want to cry, scream, and throw things all at once, all while wanting to hug Harris. I want to wrap myself around him, hold on and just grieve all of what we could have been. It’s hard to reconcile what you thought your life was going to be with what it actually is… especially when it didn’t turn out how you wanted.

But what if it still could?

“He did. Honestly, that was just the tip of the iceberg. He then gave me an envelope filled with pictures of you and Peter. They looked very damning, so I believed him. That being said, I was going to talk to you, I told him that. I wanted to hear your side, see if we could work it out. I was ready to do what I could to figure it out. But then he threatened everything. He threatened to make Cade and I ineligible for the draft. Said he could make it look like we were using, and no NHL team would ever take us on. You don’t know the whole story, but Cade had been through hell a couple years before that… I couldn’t let him not get his dream because of me. Then, there was you. He said he had the power to ruin your career and would do it with a smile on his face if I ever spoke to you again.”

When he’s finished speaking, I feel my soul crack, the heartbreak of these emotions so devastating, but beneath that. Under the many layers of other emotions I haven’t filtered through yet, is hope—the one emotion I want to hold onto. I want to run to him and hold him, touch him, kiss him. But I can’t yet. I need to know more.

Hell, I probably need to process this all first, but… who knows?

“You… you were going to propose,” I ask.

“I was,” he says, setting his water down and taking a step closer to me.

“With this ring?”

“It was my grandmother’s.”

My jaw drops, my gasp audible as I can’t believe I’m wearing his family ring on my finger right now, in what is currently a fake marriage. Yet… all those years ago when this man was preparing to propose to me, this is the ring he chose for me. He thought I was worthy of his grandmother’s ring, a family heirloom, and that is what I’m thinking about when he takes the next step forward and places his hands on my hips.

“Why am I wearing it now? If this is fake, it should be fake.”

“Exactly,” Harris says, a smirk on his lips now, a playful side coming out and it’s exciting. With both hands on my hips, he lifts me up onto the counter, stepping in between my legs as he invades my space.

Yet I still want him closer.

Inside of me to be precise.

“What are you saying?”

“It wasn’t fake then, it isn’t fake now. I think we both know that.”

My heart starts racing. His words are the fuel to my fire and I want to dive in headfirst. “Wh-what do you want?”

“Right now? Right now, I want to kiss my wife.”

“What’s stopping you?” I ask, earning me a smirk.

Leaning down, his lips crash into mine, one hand moving into my hair, his fingers holding me in place as he devours my mouth. His tongue searches, tangling with my own as he wraps his arms around me like he can’t get close enough.

Thank fuck, the feeling is mutual.

It’s intense, this feeling of being possessed by this man—a man who I’ve loved for years—that fact making it even more overwhelming as his cock hardens between us. When his mouth leaves mine, pressing open mouth kisses down the column of my neck, I open up for him, letting him get closer as his mouth explores.

But I’m still afraid. All at once it hits me that if I let this happen, if things go south, we have too much to lose. We can’t afford to hate each other again, we have a baby coming to think about now and that’s terrifying. I wish I could just think with my vagina and get naked with Harris right this second.

But I can’t.

The next time I’m naked with Harris, it’ll be because we decide to really give this marriage a try, by dating again I guess?

“Harris, I—I can’t do this right now,” I say, gently pushing at his shoulders.

He looks up at me, his dark eyes that were once filled with lust are dull with defeat and I hate it, hate that I caused this. But I know it’d be even more devastating if we tried this, and it failed.

“I want to, I do. Please believe me when I tell you I want nothing more than to let you fuck me. But I think we need to let what we learned tonight settle, see what’s left in the morning. It’s not just you and me we have to think about anymore.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, but he nods, his eyes falling to my stomach and I know he’s having the same thoughts I am.

We have to do this the right way for our baby.

“I’m going to go get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

Taking a step back, he adjusts himself before finally agreeing.

“Okay, Avery. But this isn’t finished. Sleep tight, wife,” he says, with a kiss on my cheek before turning and walking to his bedroom.

I stand up, throwing my comforter off and step into my slippers.

I need to talk to him.

I can’t wait until morning, I can’t wait until tomorrow when it’s a reasonable hour and we haven’t just had a hot and heavy make out session with me sitting on his kitchen island in the same skimpy sleep shorts I’m wearing now. But I don’t care. I need to apologize, explain myself. I feel like he needs to know it’s not that I don’t want him. It’s that I’m afraid of wanting him so badly.

I creep down the hallway toward his room, tiptoeing quietly trying not to wake Luna up. She was snuggled up in my bed and didn’t even stir when I got up. When I get to his door, I listen, hoping to hear something to let me know if he is still awake or not, but I can’t hear anything. Gently tapping on the door to knock, I’m surprised when the door creeps open slightly, leaving me staring at a dark room.

Only, I see light coming from the door that leads to his bathroom, another door he didn’t close all the way. I can hear the faint sound of the shower running and I can’t help myself from imagining him naked.

All I can think about is the water running down his thick, muscular arms, down his million abs, over every muscle I want to lick, especially his thick cock I can’t stop thinking about. My dildo has done nothing to replicate the feeling of sex with Harris, and I’m too afraid to turn on my actual vibrator because I’m afraid he’ll be able to hear it and know exactly what I’m doing behind my bedroom door.

Except, maybe he’d come give me a hand because lord knows I could use an orgasm right about now.

He was willing to give you one earlier and you stopped it.

Unable to help myself, I push the door open just a bit further and step into his bedroom. The second I’m inside, I freeze, like he’s going to pop up from somewhere and yell “ gotcha ” or something. When nothing happens, the shower just continuing on in the background, I start to walk in further, getting closer and closer to the open bathroom door.

I can see the steam billowing out of the bathroom, the window almost fully fogged up, but as I take another step closer, I see Harris perfectly. He’s standing there under the stream of water, one hand resting on the shower tile as his other hand strokes his cock and I feel my jaw drop to the floor.

He’s so fucking sexy like this, unhinged in the moment as he strokes his cock relentlessly. I can’t take my eyes off of him, I can’t stop watching the way his muscles flex as he strokes himself, the way his head falls back in pleasure as he works himself up, chasing that release we all so desperately crave.

I want to help him.

I want to walk into that bathroom, drop to my knees and suck his cock until he’s pumping every drop of cum down my throat. That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid that now I know the truth, that he’s always wanted me, I’ll fall right into his dicksand, trapped again.

Only this time, I want him to lock me up and throw away the key. Never to be taken from him again.

I keep watching him, watching as his eyes roll back, his head hitting the tile as he pumps himself quicker, his grip tightening as he chases his release.

I shouldn’t be watching this. This is so wrong. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to walk away. Hell, I can’t bring myself to do anything except stare at the man in front of me as he masturbates in the shower. I’m pretty sure this is a massive violation of his privacy.

But he left the door open. Both of them.

I can see he’s getting close by the way his movements have sped up, every stroke more frantic. I can see the way his breathing has changed, his breathes becoming more shallow and I can’t help but think he looks fucking breathtaking as he falls apart.

I can’t be here, if I stand here for even another second, I’m going to end up naked and begging for his cock.

Turning around to sneak back, I freeze when I hear my name. Closing my eyes, I stand completely still like if I can’t see him, he can’t see me. Unfortunately, when you’re older than three, that isn’t actually true, regardless of how annoying that fact is.

“Avery, what are you doing here?” Harris asks, his voice strained chasing the orgasm that I’m sure is close enough I could drop to my knees and open my mouth and within two seconds he’d pour it down my throat. But I shouldn’t do that.

Or should I?

Before I can second guess myself, I turn my body back toward Harris, my eyes immediately dropping to his cock where his hand is lazily stroking himself like he wasn’t ready to let the orgasm go quite yet.

“I—I don’t know,” I say, forcing my eyes to make the trek up to his eyes, a feat I should be honored for because his dick is a national treasure. “I was coming to talk to you, but the door, and then I… I couldn’t bring myself to, so I was going back to my room.”

Thinking with my vagina, my eyes immediately drop back down when I see his biceps flexing, the motion so seductive as he picks up the pace.

“Is that what you want to do? To go back to your room, Ave?”

“Yes… no… fuck, I don’t know,” I groan, and he just grins, his dirty blonde hair wet and thrown back, water droplets falling down his chest, past his abs and then falling down his cock like a water faucet designed with me in mind.

Who am I fucking kidding? Of course, I don’t want to go back to my room. Just because sleeping together would make things too messy that doesn’t mean that we can’t help each other out, right?

“No… I don’t.”

“Then get your ass over here. Get on your knees and help your husband come,” he growls and fucking hell it’s like his words have a main line to my control panel, my body immediately listening.

In just moments I’ve made my way into the bathroom, stepping into the shower under the spray of water, and drop to my knees at his feet, fully clothed. Looking up at him through my lashes, in such a vulnerable position, I’m surprised when I feel powerful.

I feel in control of this situation because it’s where I want to be.

Kneeling there at his feet, the water trickling down his body and splashing on to me, I wait to hear what’s next.

“Arms up,” he says, and I obey, allowing him to lift my shirt from my body before he tosses it into a pile outside the shower, leaving my topless.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, one hand caressing my cheek while his other hand returns to his cock, stroking slowly his jaw clenches as he hangs onto the last thread of his restraint.

I’m tired of his restraint, though.

Opening my mouth, I stick my tongue out and wait, letting him make the first move, but showing him I know exactly what my task is in this moment and just how eager I am to do a good job.

Stepping forward, he guides his cock between my lips, sliding in slowly until he reaches the back. Pulling out, he repeats the motions at the same torturous pace, over and over, a pace that’s maddening for me but I can slowly see his restraint falter as his orgasm starts to build.

“Fuck, Avery,” he groans out as I close my lips around his cock, his hands moving to my hair and holding me in place as I continue sucking him in as far as he can go.

It’s not my fault that sucking cock is probably just as enjoyable for me as it is for him… well, that’s not entirely true. I don’t just love sucking anyone's cock, Harris’s in particular just does it for me. I feel strong and powerful knowing I can make this grown-ass man moan just from giving him a blow job.

“Look at you, on your knees for me like a goddamn angel,” he says, his hips thrusting a little harder, a little farther as he pushes past the resistance at the back of my throat. His words spur me on, though, as I hold him still, swallowing down to push him a little further.

“Touch yourself. I want you to make yourself come like this. I want you to come with my cock in your throat, my baby in your belly, and my ring on your finger. Just like it’s always supposed to be.”

That’s all it takes. Slipping my fingers into my shorts I immediately circle my clit before sliding two fingers inside. Letting my thumb continue to tease my clit, I focus my attention on the task at hand and work on taking him down further and further each time. I’m earning my reward. When he comes down my throat it’s going to be because I deserve his cum.

It doesn’t take much after that, as Harris slides all the way in, my nails digging into his thigh as I do my best not to gag. I don’t pull back, though; I don’t ask him to stop knowing I’m still in full control of this situation.

I want the struggle.

I want to give him everything he craves.

That realization, mixed with my fingers inside me and his cock in my throat, is enough to feel my legs start to quiver, the sensation building.

This is so fucking hot—so much better than my vibrator.

Looking up, his eyes are on me, watching me intently with such adoration, something that looks so much like love in his eyes—I lose it. My orgasm crashes into me, pulling me under as my entire body feels overwhelmed by the intensity. His eyes darken as his grip tightens on my hair and I can tell he’s teetering on the edge, nearly ready to freefall into the depths of pleasure.

With my free hand I grab his balls, hoping that his likes haven’t changed too much over the years, I give them a little tug as I hold him in, letting his cock sit in the back of my throat.

As soon as I slide out, he thrusts in three last times, each one more frantic than the last, before spilling cum down my throat. I finish him off, licking him until there’s nothing left, making sure not to waste any of his cum.

I earned that shit.

Pulling back, he looks down at me, a wild contradiction with his boyish grin and lust filled eyes, it’s sexy. Lifting me up in a quick move, I wrap my legs around him as he turns the shower off. Grabbing a towel, he walks us into his bedroom. Setting me down on his bed, he dries me off before slipping a t-shirt on for me and laying me down on his pillow.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Cuddling my two favorite people,” he says as he steps into a pair of boxer briefs and slides into his bed.

I’m shocked silent, which isn’t a common occurrence for me. Sliding in next to me, I lay my head down on his chest, the strong muscles beneath me, his heart beats loud and strong, a calming noise that has me nearly falling asleep instantly.

This is what a relationship is supposed to feel like. This is what happiness is. It’s being yourself, being comfortable, and never worrying about not being accepted because the person you’re in with loves you enough.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, all at once as I lie in this warm bed wrapped around Harris.

Son of a bitch.

I’m in love with this motherfucker. In fact, I’m not sure I ever stopped.