“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, cuz.” Wendell slapped Marcus on the back.
Marcus shook his head at the sight of the other man. “You promised to walk around, check things out, and go.” He glanced at Olivia. “He swore this was the last time he’d be around. He’s going home tomorrow, aren’t you, Wendell?”
The mean gleam in the other man’s eyes said otherwise.
“Where are you two off to?” Wendell asked, ignoring the question.
Olivia stepped up to answer. “I’m taking him to see a doctor. And you need to get out of here too.”
Wendell’s eyes narrowed. “Who do you think you are, telling me to leave?” he asked in a loud voice.
Olivia winced as people around them turned to look.
“Marcus is my family. You have no right to tell me what to do!” Wendell continued ranting.
“Come on, man. Don’t do this here.” Marcus put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.
Wendell shrugged it off, pushing at Marcus so the drugged player stumbled. He caught himself and stood up straighter, staring at his relative, surprise and hurt in his gaze.
Poor Marcus, Olivia thought. He was too naïve to be in this world, let alone deal one-on-one with a man like Wendell.
“Hey.” Dylan walked over, stepping between the two men. “What’s going on?”
“That bitch thinks she can tell me what to do.” Wendell pointed a finger at Olivia.
“As the executive director of the team, she can,” Dylan informed him.
“I’m not one of her players, and my cousin wants me here.” Wendell glanced at Marcus for support, but he stood back, clearly ill and uncomfortable and not ready to pick sides.
Olivia straightened her shoulders. She intended to protect her player and the team’s reputation. “You’d better think about your actions. Your cousin has a morals clause in his contract. The NFL has strict behavioral policies and expectations. And instead of you helping him follow those rules, you keep putting him in situations that violate them. The team has every right to ban you from events.”
“Fuck that,” Wendell said, his anger showing. “It’s a free country. I can stay if I want to. And it’s my job to take care of him.” He pointed to Olivia. “And no bitch is going to tell me I can’t,” he said, his voice rising.
“That’s enough.” Dylan grasped Wendell’s shoulder and turned him toward the parking lot. “You will not speak to her that way. You will not show up at team events. And you will stay the hell away from your cousin as long as he’s under contract with the Thunder.” Dylan grasped the man hard enough to give him a shake as he spoke.
“Take your hands off me!” Wendell tried to shrug free.
“Is everything okay here?” a security guard strode up to them and asked.
“This man shouldn’t have been given a pass,” Olivia said. “He needs to be escorted off the property.”
The guard glanced at Olivia’s name tag and then Dylan’s. With an understanding nod, he took hold of Marcus’s cousin and walked the belligerent man out to the parking lot. He fought and argued the entire way.
“Ms. Olivia, Mr. Rhodes, I’m sorry. I—”
Dylan held up a hand to cut the other man off.
“We need to get him to a doctor,” Olivia said before Dylan could speak. “He’s sick.”
As if on cue, Marcus moaned and grabbed his stomach.
“I’ll take him to medical. You stay and do what you need to for the other players. I’ll text you, and we can meet up here or back at the hotel, depending on where I end up.”
“Are you sure?” Olivia asked.
Dylan nodded. He leaned over and brushed his lips over Olivia’s, and she took strength in that simple touch. She’d been able to handle Wendell, but her insides were still trembling. There was something about the man that wasn’t just mean but dangerous. She couldn’t be sure, but she suspected he’d put something in Marcus’s food that had made him so sick he couldn’t play.
In any case, she hoped Marcus was right this time and Wendell would head on home. Unfortunately, she sensed they hadn’t seen the last of Marcus Bigsby’s cousin.
* * *
By the time someone on the medical staff checked Marcus out, he was burning up with fever. He wouldn’t be playing in the Pro Bowl. So Dylan took Marcus back to the hotel in a cab and led the man directly up to his room. Marcus was full of apologies for Wendell’s arrival in Arizona and for his own inability to play. He was visibly upset, but as soon as he lay down on the bed, he fell asleep.
Dylan sat in the outer room of Marcus’s suite and began the process of damage control. The fact that Marcus wasn’t playing would be big news, and Ian needed to get the PR team on things as soon as possible. He’d already informed Ian, who’d taken charge from Miami. He hired a private security guard to sit in the outer room and make sure Marcus didn’t slip out … or Wendell slip in.
By the time the guard arrived to switch places with Dylan, the Pro Bowl was nearly over. Dylan had caught most of it on TV, and the sympathy factor was playing in Marcus’s favor. Crisis averted, he thought, as he headed down to his suite to wait for Olivia.
He must’ve fallen asleep, because he woke to find her curling against him on the bed, her hair damp, smelling fresh and fragrant from a shower.
His cock sprang to attention, as it always did when she was around. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That’s because you were out cold.”
He nodded. “How did the rest of the day go?” he asked.
“Fine.” She shrugged. “Normal. How’s Marcus?”
He’d already spoken to her on the phone, and she knew her brother had hired someone to watch over their sick star player.
“Still asleep as far as I know.” He reached over and checked his phone. “No texts from his babysitter,” Dylan muttered.
“Good.” Olivia laid her head on his shoulder and groaned. “What a day.”
“You can say that again.”
“What a day,” she muttered.
“Wise ass.” He chuckled. “But on a more serious note, are you okay after that confrontation with Wendell?”
“He scared me,” she admitted.
He pulled her close, but the thick terrycloth robe didn’t allow him the access to her skin that he craved. Had been craving since the minute he’d seen the man bullying her.
All his protective instincts had gone into high gear, and he’d wanted nothing more than to smash the man’s smug face. But he’d been aware of their location, and he knew better than to react with violence in front of an audience. But if the man ever touched her, he wouldn’t make any promises.
“But you showed up and everything’s fine. And I really don’t want to think about him now.”
“Then what is it you want to do?” he asked in a gruff voice he barely recognized.
She reached her hand down and slid her fingers into his pants, wrapping her hand around his stiff cock. “I think that should be obvious,” she said in a teasing tone, then pumped her hand up and down for good measure.
* * *
Olivia was wet. Not from the shower, but from wanting Dylan. She cupped his thick, hard erection in her palm. When a drop of pre-cum slickened her fingertips, she curled her fingers tighter around him.
He grasped her wrist and stilled her hand. “You don’t want to end this party before it gets started, do you?”
She shook her head. No, but she wanted him to take over. To do all sorts of naughty things to her while she lay at his mercy and just took what he gave her.
“Dylan?”
“What?” He pulled her on top of him, and though he was fully dressed and she was in a hotel robe, she felt his heat.
Knowing there was only one way to get what she wanted, she gathered her courage. “Remember the other night in the cabana? You brought the scarf?”
His gorgeous eyes darkened. “Yes.”
“I want—” She hesitated, unsure of how to ask.
“Tell me,” he said in a gruff voice. “Just say it and it’s yours.”
She slid her tongue over her lips. “I want you to tie me up,” she whispered.
“God, you are so fucking perfect.” He rolled her to the side of the bed, then rose and headed for the closet.
Her breath caught as she waited, her entire body primed for whatever would come next. She knew from slips that Riley made that her brother, Ian, liked to dominate in the bedroom, but she didn’t know the details, thank goodness. And her cousins in New York had their kinky side. Their significant others had mentioned it as well. So when Dylan had pulled out a scarf the other night, she’d been … intrigued.
And definitely interested.
She quickly stripped off the robe and lay back on the bed to wait. He returned from the closet, tie in hand and wearing absolutely nothing. Her mouth watered at the delectable sight of his gorgeous body. Lean yet muscular, tanned, and just plain delicious. Her gaze swept from his cock, which stood proudly, to the silk material in his hand.
“Something tells me this is going to look better on you than it ever did on me.” He paused as he stared at her with hunger in his eyes. “Up.” He gestured toward the head of the bed.
She slid back against the pillows, unable to take her gaze from those hands and the way he wrapped the tie around his palms and stretched the material taut. Her sex grew slick with wet heat.
“You’re gorgeous, baby. And I wish I could tie you to the headboard, but there’re no slats on this thing.” He studied her intently. “Hands in front of you.”
She placed her palms together, and he came over, wrapping the soft tie around her wrists a few times and knotting it. Rather easily, she thought.
“How do you know what you’re doing?” she asked.
“Friends. I went to a couple of clubs after I graduated high school.”
She tilted her head to the side, curious. “Did you like it?”
He shrugged in answer. “Not a lifestyle for me, but it’s fun. Good when both people are in the mood.” He leaned back and studied his handiwork. Then he slid one finger over her pussy, through her sex, and dipped into her. “And you definitely are in the mood.”
She threw her head back and shuddered, closing her eyes as she tried to clench tight and hold him inside.
He chuckled and pulled out, leaving her empty.
“Tease.” She met his gaze and knew she was pouting, but she couldn’t help it.
“I’m trying.” He grinned and licked his finger, slick with her juices.
That
was hot.
“Now. Let’s get to the good stuff,” he said.
“I’m waiting.” She parted her legs in invitation, exposing her freshly shaved sex to him completely. Her solo shower had served multiple purposes—unwinding alone and getting ready for him.
“I really want to devour you,” he said as he stared, his expression that of a man completely mesmerized. “But I don’t think I can hold out long enough to get inside you if I do.”
Either act would work for her, but his thick erection would satisfy her most, and she squirmed against the bed at the decadent thought. Her thighs clenched together but didn’t provide enough friction or alleviate the growing, aching pressure. An embarrassing whimper escaped from her throat.
He leaned close and brushed her hair off her cheek. His musky scent enveloped her, and she couldn’t wait until he pounded into her and she could bury her face in his neck and just inhale him while she came. “Oh God.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You’re okay, right?”
How he could be sweet and dominating at the same time was beyond her, but she loved it.
“I’m good.” Beyond good, really. She was so aroused she knew she’d come at the slightest touch.
She wanted to think about nothing but Dylan and the pleasure he could give.
“Hands and knees,” he said, startling her.
She blinked. “I thought…”
He raised an eyebrow. “What? That you’d put your arms over your head and I’d fuck you missionary style?”
His question didn’t really need an answer. That was exactly what she’d thought, and they both knew it.
“Well, I’d rather you feel me
everywhere
,” he said, his voice hitting a deep octave. He patted the bed. “Hands. And. Knees.”
Her breath hitched, and though she was nervous, she repositioned herself as he demanded. With her bound hands in front of her, she rose to her knees, her forearms and elbows taking most of her weight.
He placed a pillow beneath her stomach, raising her lower body a bit more. Silence followed, and she imagined him behind her, studying her, and stifled an embarrassed sound.
“You are fucking gorgeous.”
She blushed and dipped her head, not knowing which part of her he was referring to.
He slid his palms over the globes of her ass, down her thighs, and back up again before cupping her sex in his big, warm hand. She moaned and arched her back, her pussy clenching and unclenching in needy pulses that wouldn’t be denied.
The sound of foil ripping was an aphrodisiac to her already sensitized body, and she laid her cheek against the mattress, trying to catch her breath.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Mmm hmm.” She lifted her head and braced herself.
His arm wrapped around her waist as his cock pressed into her slick opening. He entered her slowly, her wet body accepting him easily, inch by gradual inch. It wasn’t enough, and she arched back at the same moment he thrust forward, locking their bodies together deeper than ever before.
“Oh God.” She groaned and dropped her head onto her hands.
“You can say that again.” His big hand slid up her stomach until he cupped one breast against his palm. “Perfect fit,” he muttered before he began teasing her nipple, playing, plucking, and rolling it between his fingers until she was writhing around his thick cock.
“Feel good?” he asked, still lodged deep.
“It’d be better if you’d move. I can’t take it.” She clenched her inner walls around him, hoping to entice him to fuck her hard.
“You can.” His finger tweaked her nipple once more, and she shuddered, pushing back against him.
She’d expected him to pound into her. Instead, he rocked gently, hips swaying back and forth, the rhythm forcing his cock against that sensitive spot inside her. The one no man but him had ever reached.
Small ripples that felt suspiciously like the beginning of an orgasm swelled inside her. But he wasn’t gliding in and out, wasn’t doing anything except cradling her against his big body, rolling his hips against hers. And despite the fact that they weren’t face to face, it was gentle and intense—seriously emotional—and a lump formed in her throat.