Offside (36 page)

“Sir!” Her hips jerked as a jolt of electric sensations sizzled from her nipple to her clit. She was so close, but she held back, needing him inside her before she gave in completely. “Please, please, please!”

He lifted her up, nuzzling his face between her breasts as he positioned himself between her thighs. The tip of his dick spread her pussy lips, but he went no farther. His hands curved under her thighs as he held her in place. “As slow, or as fast, as you need to take me, Akira.”

She let her weight down slowly, but the stretching—he filled her so much she wasn’t sure she could take more. She rested her head on his shoulder, panting. He kissed her shoulder, using one hand to stroke her back, to lift her sweat-dampened hair over one shoulder.

“I’m too small. You would figure after . . .” Her stomach turned. It had been years, and all her body remembered was how much it had hurt. Dominik wasn’t hurting her, but maybe her body didn’t understand. Maybe it would never understand the pleasure that could come from having a man inside her. What if they’d spoiled this for her? Forever?

They didn’t! I won’t let them!

“You’re tense and your mind is somewhere else.” Dominik pressed his hand against her cheek, drying the tears she hadn’t felt spill with his thumb. “Be with me. Feel me. Because all I’m feeling right now is you. You’re all I see.”

Her lashes clung together as she tipped her head toward him, all that had happened to her so long ago locked away where it belonged, what had happened to him all too recently stealing the tension from her body. “All I see, all I feel, is you.”

He let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, his arms around his waist, his lips on hers. They moved together until his thick length fit snugly inside her. She buried her face in his neck, trying so hard not to cry. He’d opened her up and freed a spot in her heart for him to slip inside. It wasn’t love, but it was something special.

Something she’d never regret.

* * * *

This was all about Akira.
Should
be all about her. But Dominik hadn’t expected his own emotions to get involved. The last woman he’d made love to had been Oriana. She’d climbed into his bed naked, tears in her eyes, though she wouldn’t say why.

“I need you, Dominik. Just hold me and tell me how much you love me.”

He’d felt the welts on her ass and thighs, but touching them only made her moan and press harder against him. Sometimes she scened with Sloan without sex. It satisfied something deep inside her, but not everything. Even in the darkness, from the moisture slicking some of the welts, he could tell she was bleeding. But she wasn’t hurt. And by the way she pressed against his body, he wasn’t even sure she needed the emotional connection she was asking for.

Just a different kind of release.

What was happening between him and Akira was more than a release. It was moving on. It was two people drowning, catching the same piece of driftwood that would bring them to solid ground. Finding the shore might be a struggle, but getting there would come that much sooner with them fighting the current together.

Akira’s thighs clenched as she lifted up. She held her breath as she took him inside her yet again, and he groaned at how tight she was around him. His whole length was gripped by her snug pussy. His shirt was soaked with his sweat as he carefully guided her up, then down, controlling the pace, reining in the urge to thrust into her hard and fast. She needed him to be oh so gentle. For this experience to be very different from what had happened to her before.

He wished he could say this would be the end for her. That getting here would erase the hell she’d gone through. But it wouldn’t. She’d let him in, but they both knew there was only so much he could give her. A safe place to heal, to find herself. Eventually, he’d need to help her find someone who would could help her learn to love. For the first time.

Because she wouldn’t get that from him. He wasn’t sure he could ever love again. Not the way she deserved to be loved.

She nipped his chin, letting him know he’d done what he’d asked her not to. He’d gone somewhere else when he should be with her. He gritted his teeth as he let the pleasure take over, all too aware that his body couldn’t care less where his mind had gone. This beautiful, sweet woman needed to feel his control. And he needed to find it.

He bent her back over his arm, kissing between her breasts, holding her down on him as he ground deep into her body. Then he drew her up, shifting his angle a little, lifting up and holding her there, pleasuring himself with a few shallow upward thrusts as her eyes glazed. Her little whimpers were the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. “Come for me, Akira. We haven’t rolled the dice again, so we’ll use the number you rolled yesterday.”

“Th-three?” She stared at him, then pressed her eyes shut as he brought her down hard. “Ah!”

Her juices spilled over his dick, over his balls, as she clenched and screamed. Pressure built up in the base of his spine, but he forced his own release back with a few deep breaths, holding Akira still so she wouldn’t move and set him off. Once she settled down, he pulled her up, gritting his teeth as his dick slid from her body. He stood her up, made sure she was steady, then pulled off his shirt and kicked off his jeans.

Her little scream as he swept her up into his arms made him chuckle. He brought her to the bed, quickly untying her. After he had her on her back, he bound her wrists to the headboard.

“Dominik?” Her back bowed as he kissed down her body, between her small breasts, over the shallow dip of her stomach.

He moved even lower, bringing her knees up over his shoulders. “Shall we work on number two?”

S
cott licked the salt off the wrist of the girl with the chestnut hair before taking his shot of tequila and snatching the slice of lemon from her lips with his teeth. He grinned at Ford, then unbuttoned his blue silk shirt as the four Ice Girls hollered. They were playing cutthroat cricket and Chestnut—Scott was pretty sure her name was April—had closed the seventeen with three darts in one round. Which meant Scott owed her a piece of clothing and had to take a shot. Oh, and a kiss. Things wouldn’t get dirty until someone was naked.

Thankfully, the cameras weren’t allowed in here. So none of them had to behave all respectable.
A goddamn relief.

Besides Ford, there were two other guys in the game room. Pischlar and Carter. Scott was fucking shocked that the kid had come along. Even more so to learn that Ramos had told him it was okay. Of course, there was a catch. Carter could play. He could drink and strip. But no touching.

Some kind of fucked-up test?
Scott doubted it. More likely, Ramos wanted the boy all worked up for when he got home. Didn’t matter either way. Just left more for Scott, Ford, and Pischlar.

Chestnut smoothed her hands over Scott’s chest, tipping her head back, her glossy red lips parted. He dipped her over his arm, kissing her hard and fast, laughing into her mouth as the men cheered behind him. She gave him a dreamy-eyed look as he straightened her.

“You. Are.
Amazing!”
She let out a drunken giggle, stumbling back to her friends.

Ford picked up a dart.

“I’m surprised Akira isn’t here!” One of the girls—Rachel?—shouted. The music wasn’t loud, but the girls had stopped using their “inside voices” after the first few shots. “She’s missing all the fun!”

A girl with curly black hair snorted. “Oh, I doubt that. Our potential captain went straight back to
their
captain’s room after the rehearsal. And with Mason . . .” She sighed. “You just
know
she’s not missing out on anything.”

The dart Ford threw hit the center of the chalkboard and stuck in the black slate. None of the girls noticed.

“That lucky little bitch!”

“I know! I would
so
let Mason spank me!”

“Would you?” April cocked her head, sliding over to draw her fingers up and down Pischlar’s arm. “I don’t know if I could get into the kinky stuff.”

Pischlar let out a sharp laugh. “You might want to go snuggle up to Demyan and the Delgado prince then, honey.”

April stared at Pischlar like horns had just ripped through the skin on his forehead. She inched away from him, grabbing the bottle of tequila from her friend.

“Don’t you know anything, April?” Rachel tossed her head, giving April a superior look. “You want to get with a Cobra, you better like kink. The things that happen at that club—”

“Don’t remind me.” April shuddered, then turned to Ford. “You gonna play?”

“Yeah.” Ford threw the next two darts perfectly, closing the next inning. “I think I will.”

Running his tongue over his teeth, Scott studied Ford as the game continued. He was focused, which was good for their team, but something in his eyes had gone hard and cold.

Could mean trouble.

By the time the game was finished, one girl was naked and the other two topless. Carter had fallen asleep on the sofa, and Pischlar had Rachel up against the wall, holding her wrists behind her back and speaking softly in her ear. One of the girls had rushed off to the bathroom, looking a little green.

Ford lit a cigarette, standing by the small bar, and crooked his finger at April. “You owe me.”

Cheeks a nice, dark pink, April slinked across the room, dropping to her knees when she reached Ford. She undid the button of his black jeans, then pulled the zipper down with her teeth. Scott noticed that Ford’s expression hadn’t changed much. Like any man, he liked getting his dick sucked, but it didn’t seem to matter much whose mouth was around his cock. Must be nice to be that indifferent. Scott couldn’t work up any interest in any of the girls. Or the men. Ford was a good-looking guy, but they had an easygoing friendship that Scott didn’t want to mess with.

The last girl—whose name was somewhere in Scott’s fuzzy brain—went behind the bar to toss the empty bottle of tequila. She brought out a bottle of rum, gesturing to Scott with it before pouring herself a good helping.

“No thanks.” Scott bit the inside of his cheek as something tightened low in his gut. He never drank rum. Just the smell of it made him sick. “You okay getting back to your room . . . ?”

“Shanelle.” She gave him a provocative smile, eyelashes fluttering. “You sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I’m sure.” He smiled stiffly back at her, ignoring her little pout. Over by the sofa, he shook Carter awake. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Ain’t going to bed wit’ you, Dem—Demmy.” Carter slurred, using Scott’s rarely-heard nickname since he couldn’t seem to say his full last name. “You ain’t Seb.” He sat up unsteadily and frowned. “Miss Seb. Tell him to come get me.”

Fuck, this kid can’t hold his liquor.
Rolling his eyes, Scott dragged Carter up to his feet. “No can do, sport. But you’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Good.” Carter nodded, slumping against Scott’s side. “And Jami. But don’t you touch Jami.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re a slut, you know that?” Carter laughed as though he’d just told a great joke. “I heard that Vanek kicked you out. You’ve got to stop fucking whores.”

Scott gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he’d seen Carter drunk before. The kid probably wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. Tequila had just loosened his tongue. He kicked the swinging doors open, pressing his eyes shut as Carter’s stumbling almost brought them both to the floor.

“I’ve cleaned up. Gotta if I want to stay with the team,” Scott said.

“All right.” Carter took a few wide steps away from him, spinning around suddenly, his brow furrowed. “I still see it, you know. You and Pearce, kissing Jami, touching her, fucking her with your tongues.” He braced himself on the wall. “Was fucking hot.”

“It was.” Scott frowned. What was the boy getting at? “You making a point?”

“Yeah. Was jealous. Seb won’t share me,” Carter said, confirming Scott’s suspicions. “I don’t ‘need’ it. But Jami . . . Jami might. She gets off on her men watching her get used by other men. Freaky shit. Sometimes I wonder . . .”

I so don’t wanna hear this.
Scott draped Carter’s arm over his shoulder, forcing the boy—and himself—to keep moving. He might not be as far gone as Carter, but his inhibitions were all but shot. “Shut up, Carter.”

“Fuck you.” Carter wrenched away from him, baring his teeth. “I see how you look at me. You never looked at me like that before you found out about me and Seb.”

“I don’t do straight guys. And you seemed like a fag stag. Cool with it all, but not interested.”

“Proved you wrong. But you didn’t do anything about it.”

“Shit. You don’t stop talking.” Scott reached for the door handle to the room Carter shared with the Cobra’s gritty left-winger, Ian White. “I’m gonna gag you.”

“You are one kinky fucker, Demmy.” Carter laughed. “I knew it.”

“Need help?” Shanelle came up behind him, her lips twisted with amusement as Carter slid across the wall away from her. “Don’t worry, cutie. I know you’re into dick. Everyone knows Jami’s your beard.”

The color left Carter’s face. His eyes narrowed. “Is not. I love her.”

“
Suuure
.” Shanelle winked at Scott, as though they were sharing a secret. “Stay in the closet if you want. Either way, Demyan and I are going to get you in bed before you get yourself in trouble.” She lowered her voice. “I swear, guys like
him
think they can turn anyone. Come with me once we get rid of him. I’m sure your skin’s crawling by now.”

A whiff of rum had Scott’s blood running cold. His skin
was
crawling. But not because of Carter.

“Sorry I wasn’t clear before, Shanelle.” He steadied Carter with a hand on his shoulder when it looked like the boy would fall over. “You have nothing I want.”

“Fuck. I was so wrong about you.” Her lips curled with disgust. “Fucking fudge packer.”

Scott stared after her as she stormed down the hall, not sure he could recall the last time he’d come across someone so ignorant. And . . . shit, what if she told someone?