Offside (34 page)

“A disobedient sub is not on the list of what I need.” In only two days, he would be with her again. His lips twitched as he came up with a way to make the restrictions just a bit harder. His mouthy sub would benefit from the challenge. “Do you have Ben Wa balls?”

“No . . .” Becky sounded embarrassed. She obviously knew what they were. “Why would I?”

“Their handy for strengthening the muscles you use to pleasure me,” he said smoothly. “Go buy some. I want them inside you for a few hours every day. When I come back, the first time I fuck you, they will be inside you.”

“While you—”

“Yes.” His tone deepened as he imagined pushing into her, feeling the balls shift, stimulating them both. “Can you have someone watch Casey? I want a few hours where I have complete access to your body. So I can take you wherever—and however—I please.”

“Oh God.” Becky groaned. “And I’m not allowed to—”

“Nope.”

“You, Sir, are a fucking sadist.”

He laughed. Pouty subs not getting their own way loved to throw that label around, but most wouldn’t know what to do with a real sadist if they had the misfortune to piss one off. “It’s a shame Callahan left. Seeing a few scenes between him and Oriana would show you what a kind, gentle Master I really am.”

“No, thank you. I’ve heard about their scenes.” He could hear the shudder in her tone. “Blood makes me sick.”

“I’ll never make you bleed, pet.” He made his voice calm and soothing. He wanted her worked up. Not afraid. “But I will enjoy making you squirm.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She asked a few more questions about the Ben Wa balls before they hung up, sounding a bit more eager to go shopping for them, joking about getting a few different sizes. She
had
to test them out to find the ones that “fit just right.” She gave him details about how she wouldn’t even need lube to slip them into her body.

Vengeful, pet. Well played.

He was satisfied with how their conversation had gone. He truly believed she understood how he would handle Scott. And how he would handle his relationship with her. For the first time, he could see how it would all balance out. It would take some work, but in the end they would all have what they needed.

They were finally on the same page.

* * * *

Insistent buzzing came from Scott’s gym bag, laying on the floor next to the weight bench. He could only think of two people who’d be calling him now. Stephan, to bitch about the interview, or Becky, whom he’d texted to get back to him when she wasn’t busy. He didn’t want to take her away from her daughter.

“Grab that for me, will you?” He grunted, heaving the bar up to the stand, glancing back at Carter who was spotting him.

Carter nodded and bent to fetch Scott’s phone. He answered, wandering off with a smirk as Scott dried his hands on his shorts. “Hey, Becky! How you doing, sexy lady?”

“Give me the fucking phone, asshole.” Scott lunged at Carter, cursing again as the punk evaded him. “Come on! I’m not playing!”

“He’s in a mood. You sure you don’t want to talk to me instead?” Carter went still, licking his bottom lip and smiling softly. “She did? Damn, I would have loved to see that. Jami would make a great mother—I mean, not for a long time, but I know my mom would love it!” He laughed. “Yeah, don’t tell Dean I said that. I’ll end up playing for the Jets if he even thinks I’m gonna knock up his baby girl. Have to put a ring on her finger first . . . yeah, me and Seb have talked about it. Since my mom’s doing better, we’ll probably wait at least another year, but we both want it. Seb? Oh, he’s fine owning us both. The papers won’t change that.” He blushed. “As long as we’re both wearing his collar, he’s happy.”

Scott stopped reaching for his phone, a smile tugging at his lips as he listened to Carter spilling to Becky. The kid probably needed to talk to someone. Scott should have let him know he’d listen. Good to see the boy was happy, though.

“Fuck no. Once he puts his collar on me, it ain’t comin’ off for nothing. What happened with Mason and Oriana was fucking sad, but they ain’t us. I’d rather be destroyed in the seventh game of the Cup finals than lose either of them. Yes, it’s that serious.” He cleared his throat. “Damn, Becky. Now I need to talk to Seb. Fuck, I can’t wait to go home. I wish I’d stayed there.” He grinned. “Sure, here you go. Give my goddaughter a kiss for me.”

Taking the phone, Scott slapped Carter’s shoulder, then moved over to the stationary bikes. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey. I got your text—is everything all right?”

Her voice, something about her concern being aimed at him, had the ground dropping about a foot under his feet. She was probably just being nice, but maybe . . . maybe it was finally happening. Maybe she really cared.

“Everything’s fine. Kinda wanted to talk to you.”

“Kinda?” She let out a sweet, warm laugh that set fire to his blood. Fuck, he wanted to hold her, to tell her—but she continued. “More like testing the waters. I saw your interview and you’re not in trouble. Keane and I spoke about it earlier and agreed to air it. We’d wanted to keep the whole fight between Sahara and Amy off the show, but we might be able to cut out the ugly stuff and keep the drama.”

“That’s good, I guess . . .” Scott frowned. “So this means Amy won’t be exposed as the heartless cunt she is?”

“Jesus, Scott. Please don’t use that word. You’re better than that.” She lowered her voice. “And I mean that. When I heard what you said about your foster sister . . . poor girl. Did she get help?”

“Yes. Eventually.” Sort of. She’d gotten out of the relationship anyway. Last he’d heard, she’d been working in a strip club. That was years ago. Who knew what she was doing now? He’d lost touch with her in his early teens. His brother had given him updates until she disappeared off the grid. She was just one of the many he’d failed in his pathetic life. But Becky didn’t need to hear all that. “Sahara’s not in trouble though, right? You guys get why—”

“We do. Don’t worry about her. As soon as she gets back, I’ll be working with her on the rest of the program for the Ice Girls’ final competition. She’ll be taken care of.” She paused. “What about you?”

His brow furrowed. “What about me?”

“Are you being ‘taken care of’?” Her tone took on a slight edge. Almost like she was nervous bringing it up. “I’m sure you know Zach and I talked?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t change much. I still need to show how much I’ve—”

“He doesn’t need another sub, Scott.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because you’re certainly acting like one. I saw a picture of you with him by the pool—thankfully it didn’t go farther than my desk. The way you were looking at him . . .” She went quiet, and he heard her inhaling slowly. Then let the air out in a laugh. “With how strong you came on before, your being timid surprised me. You have the opportunity to . . .”

Fuck.
She sounded like he’d let her down. Which was freakin’ weird. Was she really that anxious for him to fuck her boyfriend? “Zach ain’t into flings, Becky. You should know that better than anyone. I thought that’s why you chose him over me.”

“That’s true. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. It doesn’t always have to be serious. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and . . . and not everything has to be a full-course meal. I think Zach needs a bit of a snack.”

Scott pressed his lips together, inhaling slowly. Right. Well, that made sense. Zach liked dick and pussy. Why wouldn’t his sub want him to have access to both while ensuring that she was the one he woke up with in the morning?

Better than nothing, I guess.

But . . . “What about you? You want a snack too?”

“This is about Zach.” Her voice sounded small, and her next words made it clear why. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Whatever happens while you’re on the cruise is between the two of you. I guess part of me thought you were calling for more than an update on Sahara. That maybe you needed to hear from me that it’s really okay.”

“Yeah, that’s clear. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Not everything’s got to be a full-course meal. That goes for you too, doesn’t it?” Hell, if she wanted to play this way, he wasn’t about to let her back off now. “Enough about him. You’re talking to me. You want a snack, babe? I’ll be fucking cookie dough ice cream, chips, pretzels—all your favorite junk food. I’ll be your naughty indulgence. I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

“Damn it, Scott. Yes, it’s tempting. And I might eventually . . .” She groaned. “It doesn’t matter. Be that for him. He needs to stop trying to make this into something it will never be.”

“You let me worry about him. All I want you thinking about is what I’m gonna do to you.” His smile was feral, and he turned his back on Carter when he caught the boy watching him. “I’m gonna rock you’re fucking world, beautiful. Every woman needs that at least one in their lifetime, right?”

For a really long time, she didn’t answer. He wondered if he’d gone too far. He’d never really classed Becky as one of those women who just wanted a wild ride from him. His own goddamn stupidity. That’s all they ever wanted. No matter how good or sweet they were, they saw right through him, saw all the things they shouldn’t want, but did. And they knew he could give it to them.

He’d wanted more with Becky, but at least this was something. Something he could hold on to long after she’d forgotten all about him.

“At least once,” she said quietly. She exhaled. “You’re doing well, with your image, the interviews, everything. Really well. I need you to know that I’m impressed.”

“I try.” He made small talk, letting her go with a curt promise not let the cameras catch any more pathetic, submissive looks from him. He remembered that moment, how he’d felt looking up at Zach. Maybe a bit like surrendering, like getting on his knees, swearing to do anything, to be anything Zach wanted him to be. Which was nothing more than a good man when it came down to it.

What a fucking joke. It’s all an act.
He dropped his phone in his bag, shaking his head when Carter asked him if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. His stomach was in knots. But that didn’t change a thing.
I’ve eventually got to stop pretending to be something I’m not.

B
eing on deck first thing in the morning to watch the sun rise over the ocean, was one of the best perks of being here. Coffee and fresh ocean spray from the wild waves rising up from the restless sea made Akira feel so awake and alive she tipped her head back, soaking it all in.

I’m fixed.
She laughed out loud, setting her coffee mug down on a nearby table because she needed to move and didn’t want to spill the hot liquid on her white, pleated skirt. Soft music was playing from the speakers above, and she could see the sleepy cameramen creeping out from behind the cabins on the other side of the pool behind her. As the leader of one of the two teams, they probably hoped she’d give them some good footage.

For the first time, she didn’t resent them for watching her so closely. Her long, slick hair rose up with the wind as she spun around, singing when she recognized the song that had just started up. “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry
.
Such a sad song, but she wasn’t feeling sad at all. What would be sad would be continuing with the life she’d had before. Short or long, it hadn’t really been living. Part of her had already felt dead, but not anymore. She’d been only sixteen when her life had been . . . not severed, but spoiled in a way she’d never hoped to recover from.

But she had recovered. She was living—really living—
finally!

The three roses on the table where she’d left her coffee caught her eye. She took one, still singing and dancing, pulling off the petals to let them fall into the ocean. Not in a “he loves me, he loves me not” kinda way. More as a way to symbolize the freedom she’d experienced. Four years was long enough to be a prisoner to the experience. It was finally over.

“Akira?”

And yet, it wasn’t over at all. Her breath caught and she spun around, tripping back against the railing, holding her hands out, panic clawing at her chest. Dave Hunt, the man who’d seen her flirting with Scott as an invitation to one and all, stood just a few feet away. The cameras were still rolling, but the men behind them didn’t seem real. They were like props. There was nothing but her and this man and he saw
her.
Who she really was.

Not who she wanted to be.

“Relax. I’m not going to . . . fuck. I didn’t know.” Dave fisted his hands by his sides. He didn’t look like he wanted to hit her, but she couldn’t know for sure. Her instincts couldn’t be trusted. Even after he held up his hands and stepped back, she was all too aware that she couldn’t run fast enough to get away.

“Please just leave me alone.” She flattened her hands over the V of her shirt, wishing she’d covered up more. Or better yet, stayed in Dominik’s room. Where she could have kept pretending everything was good. “I’ll scream. I won’t stop screaming! I won’t let this happen again!”

“Shh . . . sweetie, I won’t touch you.”

“Hunt.” A hard voice came from her other side. She was surrounded. She whimpered as a shadow fell over her, but the man didn’t touch her. She blinked as Tim stepped between her and Dave. “Get away from her—no, I don’t care that you were trying to make things right. It’s not happening. Not like this. I see you near her again, I’ll throw you over the side of this fucking boat myself.”

“Coach, I—” Dave hunched his shoulders and nodded. “I’m sorry. That’s all I wanted to say.”

It was over. Then it wasn’t. Dave turned and a sound, a wild, vicious sound, came from the man who blocked him.

Ford.

“You stupid little shit.” Ford grabbed Dave by the back of the neck, jabbing his fist into the other man’s gut. Ford wasn’t quite as tall, or wide, as Dave, but the younger man wasn’t fighting back. An evil smile sliced across Ford’s lips. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

He managed to hit Dave in the face, then again in the stomach, before several players poured on to the deck and pulled him away. Dave was on his knees, spitting blood, not even trying to shield himself from the final kick Ford got into his ribs.