Page 27 of The Perfect Snipe

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.

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