Chapter 27 Harlan
TWENTY-SEVEN
HARLAN
MARCH
“Morning, Chef,” I called as I passed the kitchen on the way to get my coffee.
As usual, I either barely heard her response or she didn’t respond at all.
I think we’d both been making a conscious effort to act normal at work, but normal for us was probably not normal for everyone else.
I made sure to call her Chef at work and during our lessons, but Emma when we were together otherwise.
Which hadn’t been nearly as much as I’d like.
When I came back through the dining room, Chef lingered by the doorway.
“You’re past my tile, Chef,” I said, toeing the line on the floor.
“Miguel’s gone this morning,” she said with a little purr in her voice, but then Cap came bounding into the dining room with a loud, “Morning, Chef!”
Emma straightened and continued. “So, I was wondering if you could help me get a pan down.”
“What’s that? Need help, Chef?” Cap came to stand so he was almost toe to toe with Emma and me.
She waved him off. “No, Royce can do it. He owes me one.”
Cap laughed. “Oh. For being annoying? Nice.”
I shot him a smug glance. “You just upped the ante on how annoying I can be.”
Emma’s fingers wrapped around my wrist. “Come on.”
“I think we’re starting at 9:30, Royce,” Cap called as he went by again.
“‘Kay!” Emma was still pulling on my arm. “Ow,” I whined.
“Baby,” she grumbled.
“I think you meant ‘Daddy,’” I corrected her.
We turned the corner into the alcove where I got a pan down for her before when Chef fisted the middle of my shirt and smashed her mouth to mine. All the details took too long to register.
Miguel was off. She wasn’t serving food until after practice. She had a few minutes.
My mind was quickly muddled with our kiss, with her body tucked into mine, with her scent surrounding me and her hands all over me.
I moaned into her mouth and I got hard so fast it got trapped against my leg.
If I got called into practice now, I’d be fucked because her touch, her proximity, was making me need release now.
I wasted no time, dropping my hand to rub her through her pants.
Emma pulled out of our kiss and slipped her fingers into the waistband of my athletic shorts.
We were starting our workout in the weight room, and I technically should have been on a bike to warm up.
This would have to do for cardio.
She dropped to her knees and brought my shorts with her. My cock almost hit her in the face when it was freed, and she took the opportunity to run her tongue up the underside of my shaft. “These things gonna break my teeth?”
I laughed. “Not if you don’t give me a tooth job.”
She smirked up at me. “That’s actually a double negative. What you meant to say—”
I shoved my tip into her open mouth, a soft groan escaping her and sinful eyes peering up at me. “Brat.”
She pulled off and gathered spit at her lips, taking her time dribbling it over my length. Her lips hooked up again. “Did you want me to stop?”
I fisted my hand in the side of her hair and shoved her back on my cock. “Does it taste like I want you to stop?”
A smug chuckle sounded from her throat as she worked me, taking me a little deeper on each bob of her head.
I poked my head around the corner to make sure we were truly alone. Any of my teammates could have walked in at any time, but I prayed the usual situation held true. I was the only one crazy enough to go in there if Chef or Miguel weren’t around.
“You just couldn’t wait, could you? You woke up this morning wishing I was in your mouth, didn’t you? Loosen your jaw for me, princess.”
Spit dripped onto her chef’s coat, and the sight put me that much closer to the edge. And good thing, because we didn’t have much time.
“Drove you crazy not being able to touch me last night, didn’t it? It did for me. Knowing this perfect woman was right there and I had to act like I didn’t want you, like I didn’t want to bend you over and fuck you until I spilled back out of you.”
She pulled off, eyes teary, makeup smudged, chin wet, and looking up at me from her knees. “Please fuck me.”
I tapped my cock at her lips. “I’ve got a better idea. You in?”
She nodded quickly. “Yes.”
I opened my lips to instruct her to open for me. I stroked my fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head. “Okay?”
She adjusted her lips, then nodded.
“When I tell you to stand and bend over the counter, you do it. Got it?”
She smiled around me and put her thumb up.
“You like your hair pulled?” She blinked and bobbed her head again. “Of course you do. Daddy’s dirty little princess.”
With both hands, I gripped her hair and thrust in and out of her mouth. She reached under her chef’s coat and grabbed her breast, hard. “Fuck, Emma, this is so hot. How’d I get so lucky with you?”
Her eyes softened even though my actions continued, her mouth growing wetter as I kept on. It was the tenderness, the surrender, the trust, the unstoppable connection between us, that had me at my edge.
I tugged upward on her hair. “Bend over that counter, Chef.”
I helped her up and when she laid her upper body flat on the prep surface, I pulled her pants to her knees. I notched my tip at her entrance and worked myself in my hand. “Did you want Daddy to fill you?” I asked.
“I want all of you,” she whispered.
“Soon, I promise. For now, you’re going to take every drop I give you.”
“I want you,” she begged. “Why won’t you fuck me?”
“Not here, princess, but I’ll get close.”
She moaned out my name, and once again, I grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to look at me. “You’re going to watch me when I fill you up.”
Emma braced her legs wider and canted her hips, trying to meet my hand where it grazed her clit while I jacked myself. “Please, Daddy,” she whimpered.
The way she said it. The way Emma counted on me to make her feel good, on how she wanted to give and give to me.
“Fuck.” Rope after rope of cum sprang from my tip, pooling at the edge of her pussy.
Emma’s hand reached back to rest on my lower abs, a comforting touch that I focused on so I wouldn’t yell.
I drained myself into her, still not fully penetrating her but just pressing at the entrance.
I caught any excess in my fingers, then pulled away from her when I was done.
I leaned down to her ear, kissing her temple before I spoke. “Since you’re such a perfect little slut, I’ll give you something nice too.”
I slipped my thumb into her pussy, rubbing her clit with my cum-covered fingers. “Holy shit, Royce.”
“It’s Harlan or Daddy,” I gritted out. “You like when Daddy fills you with his cum, don’t you? But it’s not enough, is it?”
“No,” she moaned. “God, I need more.”
I wiggled my thumb inside her and swirled my fingertips around her clit as fast as I could, my forearm burning, all while keeping a tender hand on her hip. “Do you like when Daddy finger fucks his cum back into you?”
She edged her heels wider, her hips starting to buck along with my fingers. “It’s perfect,” she managed.
“That’s right. You’re so fucking good for me, Em. What made you get on your knees for me?”
“It was hot when you helped me.”
A smile broke over my face, sweat beading at my brow. “I’ll always try to be here when you need me.”
Her hand covered mine on her hip, desperate eyes searching for me. I leaned over her back and kissed her. “I got you.”
With a few harder snaps of her hips and her hand on my cheek where we were basically lying on the counter, her pussy convulsed around my fingers. “There you go. My good girl.”
“Holy shit,” she breathed.
I kissed the side of her face. “You know, you don’t have to blow me for helping you.”
She winked at me and laughed. “I think maybe I just wanted to blow you anyway.”
“Woo, Royce is on fire!” Cap skated behind my net, right after I stopped another of his shots in practice. “What have you been eating lately, man? What diet turns you into a brick wall?”
“More like who has he been eating?” Owen added.
Fuck, what did Owen know? He knew I was taking the private lessons.
He accused me of liking her because of the interview video, but I’d been careful not to tell him more.
It felt weird not telling him, but it wasn’t just about me.
Not that Owen would blab on purpose, but I wanted to keep to my secret pact with Emma.
And anyway, his question should have been, who was eating me, because that was what had just occurred to make me “on fire.” Some guys can’t come around games.
Some guys have to nut or their game will undoubtedly suffer.
I’d never noticed a huge correlation, but getting off feels good so, hey, why not?
But today Chef—Emma—got on her knees for me and it was easily the best head I’d ever gotten.
I shot Owen a weird look. “What are you talking about, man?”
“I don’t know. You’ve been acting weird. I feel like you’re seeing someone.”
I scoffed. “Mind your biz.”
Leroy blasted a puck past me while I was arguing with Owen.
I looked to my right to find Leroy leaning on his stick. “Why’d you do that?” I asked.
He spit on the ice and skated my way. “Had to prove you’re not a brick wall.” He circled around the back of the net and appeared on the other side. “Kid.”
“This is a supportive environment, Leroy,” Sorrento said.
“What? If he gets a big head, we’ll lose,” Leroy countered.
I could work with that. “That’s so interesting, because your mom said I had a big head last night when I was—”
A puck clipped my helmet.
I shook it off. “Dick.”
Cordero skated up and lowered his voice. “That’s crazy, because that’s what your mom was begging me for last night.”
I dropped my jaw. “Cordero makes your mom jokes?”
He tipped his head. “Jack of all trades, master of your mom.”
I laughed. “That one doesn’t count.”
I let Cordero take his turn blocking shots and skated to find Owen. “What were you talking about?”
Owen’s lip pouted, and it was the most pathetic accidental puppy dog face I’d ever seen. “Garner’s wife told Garner that she heard you were making out with Emma.”
Fuck. Heat flooded my face and neck and I prayed my goalie helmet concealed most of it. “Like Chef Emma?” I let out a hysterical little laugh. “Why would I be making out with Emma?”
More importantly, who told Garner’s wife that, and where did they see us? I wracked my brain for any time we would have been kissing in public. What about in private? Had Miguel caught on at some point? He seemed like the kind of guy who couldn’t care less. And why would he tell Garner’s wife?
A more chilling thought took hold.
Greer. I hadn’t heard from her since the night she was waiting outside my house. I thought I was rid of her, but I should have known better. She just went into hiding. Got sneakier, less obvious. Planning her next move.
“I mean, you guys are friends now. Sometimes friends turn into more,” Owen suggested. “You two were awfully chummy in that video. She did save your life. That brings people together, you know?”
I scoffed. “That’s nuts.”
Cap circled us, getting closer with each spiral. Owen brought out the puppy dog eyes again. “It’d be a real shame if something special was happening in your life and you didn’t tell your best friend.”
Jesus, who taught him these guilt tactics? But to be fair to Emma, I had to keep it covered up. “Yeah. Would be a shame.”
Cap butted in. “I’m good at secrets. I’m a captain. That basically means confidant.”
“That would only work if I had something to confide.” A thought occurred to me. “And actually, it’s really messed up that you’re spreading rumors about Chef when she’s been nothing but good to you. And why is Garner talking shit about me?”
Ha! Try seeing through that, Owen.
I’d tell him eventually. Whenever Emma gave me the go-ahead.
But, she hadn’t, so I continued the little white lie streak.
“Hey, Royce, come here.” Cordero flagged me off to the side while the team shot on an empty net. “I want to show you something with your glove.”