Chapter 45
RAKE
“I saw bits of your press conference today,” Petal says, jumping to her toes to kiss me as I get home from practice.
The place smells incredible, but there is no sign of Betty. Does that mean my girl can cook? I can’t believe I don’t know the answer to that question.
I peek in the oven and into the pots boiling on the stove, and look at Petal, adorable as hell with a smear of flour on her cheek and her hair in its usual messy bun. “Did Betty make this?”
She hands me a cold beer and opens one for herself. “What? You don’t recognize my delicious cooking?” Her eyes are wide and her bottom lips juts out.
Oh God. What have I done?
She must have seen the horror cross my face because she slaps her thigh, laughing. “I’m pulling your leg. Calm down. I made this, it’s my famous chicken piccata. I sent Betty home. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.” I pull her to me, sliding my hands up under her shirt. “Oooh, I love these tits,” I say feeling her nipples stiffen right between my fingers. “And it’s fine to send Betty home. She’s probably thrilled to get time to herself.”
Petal throws her arms around me, sliding her hands deep inside my jeans and grabbing my butt. “At first she was kind of taken aback. But when I told her what I was going to cook, how I was going to cook it, and proved to her I’d already bought the food, she relaxed.”
“What can I say? The woman’s been taking care of me for a long time.”
“Well, I think I can take care of some things she cannot,” Petal says with a glint in her eye.
I nuzzle my nose in her hair, making it even messier than it already is. “Hmmm. What can you do for me that Betty doesn’t? Can you give me an example?”
She pulls her hands out of the back of my jeans and reaches for my fly. She’s got my pants open in moments and is cupping my balls. “I was thinking something along the lines of this?”
I press into her fingers, shifting my hard dick so it’s not completely strangled by my boxers. “Oh yeah. This can work.”
Petal places a dish towel on the floor and drops to her knees.
“Oh. Wow. We’re doing this now? What about the food?”
Sure, I want whatever she has in mind, but I don’t want the chicken to burn.
“You’re always thinking, Rake Hanson, aren’t you?” She reaches for the dials on the stove and turns everything off.
This is worth a cold dinner.
I push my jeans and boxers down and my cock springs free. I grab it at the base and point it towards Petal.
She takes it with a smile and runs light strokes up and down while licking my sack. She gently sucks as much as she can get into her mouth while pumping me. It’s goddamn heaven.
Taking hold of my erection, she runs her tongue around the head, tasting my sticky precum. With a smile she looks up at me, not breaking our gaze, and slowly takes my cock into her mouth until it hits the back of her throat.
Fuck me. I don’t think anyone has ever taken me so deeply.
“God, Petal, that’s so good. I’m gonna come soon, baby, are you ready?” I rasp.
She nods and mumbles something affirmative. I drive myself into her mouth and hold her head, my hips gently pulsing, then explode so hard I have to hold onto the kitchen counter to keep my balance. I drop my head back and bellow loud enough to be heard down the block.
“Holy shit, baby,” I say as she swallows as much cum as she can. “Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.”
God bless her, she licks me clean.
I help her to her feet since she’s been on her knees for so long, then grab a kitchen towel while she goes back to the stove.
I stand there, pants around my ankles, even though I’m through cleaning up.
She looks me up and down. “Are you gonna… I don’t know, pull your pants up? Or just hang out like that? Either way is fine with me.”
“Such a wise guy,” I say, getting dressed.
“So, somebody does like a little pre-dinner blowie,” she sings, bringing two plates of food to the dining table
It smells just as good as anything Betty makes.
“Look at this,” I say, sitting back in my seat, thoroughly impressed.
A blowjob, a nice dinner, and a cute wife. Life doesn’t get much better. For cripe’s sake, the table is set, wine glasses are out, and there’s a feast before me. Normally, when Betty cooks for me, I just wolf it down in front of the TV before crashing for the night.
Bachelor life, yo.
“So. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Petal says.
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “Let me have it, baby.”
Her look is ominous. I don’t like it.
She sets her fork down, then folds and unfolds her napkin.
What the fuck?
“I… I appreciate what you did at the press conference today, talking about how our relationship is your priority. It was a stand-up thing to do. I’m honored, really I am, that you choose me above all else.
But I gotta let you know, that weighs on me.
It doesn’t feel right. I… I just can’t stand in the way of your career. I can’t. I’d never forgive myself.”
I set my fork down now, too. “What are you getting at?”
“I don’t want to be the one you make career decisions around. I can’t do that to you, I don’t want to have that sort of expectation, that hockey is second for you, after me. You’ve trained for this career your entire life. It has to be your top priority.”
Jesus Christ. Did my father get to her?
She continues. “What if the best decision for you is to be traded, to move away? You can’t let a chance like that go because of me.”
I’m silent because I don’t know what to say.
But I eventually figure it out. “Are you trying to tell me you want out?”
She looks down at her hands, avoiding my eyes. How the hell did we go from a blow job, to a great dinner, and then to this? “I don’t know,” she says in a small voice.
I slam my hand on the dining table, scaring the shit out of both of us. Jesus, I thought I’d gotten rid of my aggro tendencies.
Petal pushes her chair away from the table like she’s afraid, and my heart crumbles right there in my chest. The person I care about most is afraid of me.
I get choked up and don’t even care. “I’m sorry. I should not have done that,” I say in a breaking voice. “I scared you.”
I drop my face into my hands. I can’t let her see me like this.
Shame wells in me, the kind of shame I felt when I saw my father do this to my mother. I told myself, promised myself, I’d be different.
Guess I’m the same kind of asshole he is.
“Petal, I see you in my future. I really do.” My voice is breaking up, so I clear my throat loudly.
“What I’m saying is that if you’re going to be part of my future, then our relationship will influence any choices I make around my career.
That’s the way it’s got to be. If this is what you want, like I do. If you don’t, you can tell me.”
I look up and see her face is red, streaked with tears. “I want to be with you,” she says in a small voice. “But I don’t want to see you ruin your career.”
“Don’t you see, baby, I can have you in my life and have a stellar career. They can go hand in hand. Other players do it. Why can’t we?”
I walk around the dining table and pull her into my arms.
She sniffles quietly, and then pulls back. “Guess I look like shit now, huh?”
“No worse than me. C’mon. I’m going to run you a bath and then clean up the dishes.”
She picks up our dirty plates, but I take them from her and set them in the sink. “I can get this stuff.”
I shake my head with force. “Absolutely not. C’mon. I’m getting you in the tub. Then I’m cleaning up. And if you’re not totally sick of me, I’ll join you.”
“What if the tub water’s cold by then?” she asks.
I shrug. “I’ll join you anyway.