GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras) (30 page)

Am I sure?
She inhaled and wrinkled her nose. Gasoline and fish saturated the air. She smelled like an ashtray, and her muscles burned. Part of her wanted to go home, take a long, hot bath, then curl up in bed with a man or two. Another part wanted to stay put and see what Sloan would do.

Too bad she was pissed at him, a little detail she’d almost forgotten. She let her mind go over all the reasons why and worked herself back up to indignant fury.

“I’m very sure,” she said. He loosened his grip and she wrenched away from him. Tyler stood by the Chevy’s bumper. Close enough to stop Sloan if he snapped. Not that she was scared or anything. “After what you pulled today, I’d much prefer if you keep your hands to yourself.”

“Really.” His hands fell to his sides, palms out. A classic I-mean-you-no-harm gesture. But the way the muscle in his jaw ticked meant something else entirely. “Would you mind telling me what I did?”

She blinked at him. He had to be kidding. Didn’t look like he was, but . . .

His eyes narrowed, and his hands curved, as they would if wrapped around someone’s neck.

Shivering, she hiked up her chin and ticked off his transgressions on her fingers. “You were ignorant to me in front of that girl Lindsey; you mocked me, laughed at me, then ignored me. Then you told me to go away. So I did.”

“I see.” He looked at her hand, then held out his own. “You’ve snarked at me, been rude, attacked one of my players in a fit of rage, then attacked me in another—”

“I wasn’t trying to hit your face.”

“But you’ll admit you weren’t just defending your goalie.”

Lips parted, mouth dry, she stared up at him, feeling the platform of her anger crumble around her. She’d blamed him for everything, but she was as much at fault, if not more. Technically, Sloan talking smack was well within the rules of the game. What she’d done wasn’t.

“I hit you because I was frustrated.” The smudge of blood at the edge of his lip was glaring evidence of her transgression. She dropped her gaze to his shoes and mumbled, “I hate being ignored.”

“Ah.” He tipped her chin up with a finger. “I think I understand. Your father ignored you a lot, didn’t he?”

She shrugged. “He was busy most of the time—which I could deal with. But when I disappointed him . . .” She tried to turn her head, but his fingers held firm to her jaw. So she let the words spill out while staring at the stark, white scar on his cheek. “He would ignore me for days. He did the same to Silver, and she would throw a fit. She’d break things and swear at him, but nothing worked. He’d have the maid clean everything up and act like she was invisible until she broke down. Then he’d summon her to his office and let her apologize and pick her own punishment.”

“And what did you do when he ignored you?” Sloan cupped her jaw and leaned in until she couldn’t help but look into his dark eyes. “I can’t picture you hitting him.”

“I don’t hit—well, I didn’t until you and Dominik . . .” She paused, her own actions confusing her. Both Sloan and Dominik were capable of pushing her past any sense of self-control. “I would go to his office three times a day. Bring him breakfast, lunch, and supper. Then I’d wait until he finished eating. I’d tell him how sorry I was and watch his face, hoping for a sign that he’d heard me. But . . . nothing in his expression showed that he did. He wouldn’t acknowledge me until I gave up.”

The admission hurt. Suddenly, it was very clear what her father had been doing. By cutting his daughters off from himself even more than he usually did, he’d assured ultimate surrender. His affection became a coveted prize, and, if they displeased him, they lost it.

“Thank you for telling me, Oriana.” Sloan’s tender tone pulled her out of the dark, lonely pit she’d fallen into. He kissed her while pulling her into a firm embrace. “Now I know whenever you need to be punished, you also need to be reminded that I still care. I’m sorry I did something to trigger your messed-up childhood.”

She let out a shallow laugh. “I didn’t have a messed-up childhood.”

“Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.” He set his hands on the door behind her and nodded at Tyler. “You do need to be punished.”

All her morose feelings fled like they wanted no part of his plans. She trembled and put her hands on his forearms, hard as steel bars, trapping her. The crotch of her borrowed jeans dampened, and heat flooded her cheeks.

“I do?” She surveyed the empty street, noting the empty driveways, the houses with dark windows. Dusk, and no one was home. But still . . . “Not
here?
”

“Everyone’s still at the arena. We’ve got a bit of time before the game ends and they all head home.” The edge of his lips quirked. “But not much.”

In other words, she’d better hurry and accept the punishment, or he’d do it with an audience.

She didn’t want to stall, but maybe she could talk him out of punishing her at all? “Why do I need to be punished?”

“You know why.” He reached between them and unzipped her jeans. “Now tell me, you don’t like to be embarrassed, do you?”

Stupid question. She clenched her thighs when he started pushing her jeans down. “No, I don’t.”

“Oriana, if you make this difficult, I’m going to strip you and bend you over the hood of the truck. Then I’ll go with my original idea of using my belt on your pretty ass. I doubt you’ll be able to get dressed before someone shows up.”

“I want you to stop.” She did. She didn’t. She couldn’t make up her mind. But she held his wrists to prevent him from going further.

For what seemed like forever, he studied her face. Then he pried her hands from his wrists. “And if I believed you, I would. You’re not crazy about doing this outside, but the last thing you want is for me to stop. You’d be very disappointed if I took you at your word.”

“No.” She groaned and her knees locked, but the muscles in her thighs went slack. He peeled her jeans down. The moisture smeared between her legs cooled as the breeze kicked up.

“Yes.” He shoved his hand in his pocket. “I want the truth, Oriana. You know I’m disappointed in you, and you’ll do anything to make it up to me, won’t you?”

Anything?
She watched him pull something out of his pocket. The last time she’d seen him reach into his pocket with a woman at his mercy, he’d taken out a small blade and held it against her throat. Maybe she
was
willing to do anything to make amends.

Anything but that.

She swallowed. “You’re not going to use your knife on me, are you?”

He shook his head. “No. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t trust you enough yet.”

Shouldn’t the trust be on her end? His hands covered her pussy, and her hips jerked.

“I’ll just assume the feeling is mutual.”

Mutual?
She squirmed as his fingers tapped her clit, creating little spikes of pleasure to zip up in time with the steady tattoo. Then she nodded and let her head fall back.
Oh, yes. Mutual feeling sounds right
.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

What?
She waited for an explanation, but none came. Then she remembered. The truth. He wanted the truth.

“I’ll do anything but bleed for you . . .” His fingers stilled, and she whimpered. “Unless . . .”

She’d made him bleed. Shouldn’t she let him . . .

“No blood. Not tonight.” His fingers slipped in her folds as moisture spilled, and he made a gruff sound in his throat. “Jesus, you tempt me—the way you respond . . .” She peeked at him and the flesh around his eyes crinkled. “Soon. Very, very soon.”

“Um, you two are freaking me out.” Tyler folded his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking from Sloan’s hand on Oriana’s crotch to somewhere in the golden horizon. “Is there a reason you wanted me here?”

Sloan nodded. “Do you know what this is?”

Tyler shuffled closer, took one look at whatever Sloan had in his hand, and grinned. “Uh-huh. Those things are fun. My ex-girlfriend use to put one in her pussy before we went out to fancy restaurants. By the time we got home, she’d be so wet—”

“Good, well, I want you to use this on Oriana while we have a little chat.” He dropped a shiny, black object into Tyler’s palm, and scooted over while Tyler knelt in front of her. “Every time it seems like she’s getting close, stop.”

“Stop?” Oriana stared at Tyler’s hand. She couldn’t figure out the purpose of the tiny thing, but since Tyler didn’t get off on pain, she wasn’t too worried. But why stop?

Both men smiled at her, then carried on their conversation.

“Okay,” Tyler said.

“I mean it.”

“Gotcha, Captain.”

Sloan slid his hand from between her thighs, and Tyler took his place, spreading her pussy lips apart with his fingers. Oriana tried to see what he was doing, but Sloan clamped his hand around her jaw and forced her to look at him.

“Hook your fingers to my belt, honey.” He waited until she’d complied before continuing. “If this gets to be too much, tug twice, and everything stops. Understand?”

If what gets to be too much?
She licked her lips, not sure whether she should agree or go along with whatever he would do to her. Her brain turned to mush as all her attention fixed on Tyler’s prodding fingers. Her thighs quivered as he exposed her clit and pressed something hard against the tip of the exposed nub. Then her entire world started vibrating.

“Ah!” Electric pulses zinged up every nerve. Pleasure assaulted her, and her nipples pebbled in response. “Oh,
yes!
”

“What will you do if it gets to be too much?” Sloan whispered against her lips.

“Tug.” She gasped as all the muscles inside her contracted, and Tyler slid one finger in. She dropped her hips to take him deeper but his finger circled, teasing her. “Tug twice.”

“Good girl.” Sloan traced her lips with his tongue. His hands slid down to her throat. “Now, I need you to understand something.”

I understand! Don’t stop, don’t stop!

Sloan made a motion with his hand at the edge of her vision, and the vibrations ceased.

Uh, I hate you!
She glared at Sloan and spread her thighs as far as she could, hoping Tyler would take the hint.

But he didn’t.

“What?” She felt like screaming, but someone might hear. Sudden panic had her looking over Sloan’s shoulder, over her own. The street was still empty, but the distant sounds of cars told her it wouldn’t be for long. “Please! What?”

“What, who?” Sloan’s thumb stoked her throat, up and down, up and down. “Who am I?”

Mindless with need, she tossed her head back and groaned. “Master, Captain . . . Oh, God!”

“‘Sir’ will do.” Sloan motioned again, and the vibrating thing touched her clit. “I don’t expect us to see eye to eye on everything, but I do expect you to talk to me when something is bothering you.”

“Okay.” Sounded good. Anything that kept things going sounded good. She whimpered as Tyler filled her with one finger, pumping deeper and deeper until her pulse matched his thrusts. She teetered on the brink of climax and pressed her eyes shut.

Tyler withdrew his finger.

“No!” She tried to push down again, but Sloan pressed his thumb against her larynx.

“Don’t move.” His tone warned her of the danger of disobeying, told her she’d regret it if she did.

For some reason, she couldn’t resist pushing a little, just to see how far he’d go. She wasn’t afraid—yet. But she wanted to be.

“Tyler, please—”

A bit more pressure on her windpipe and she cut herself off. Mouth opened wide, she gulped in air, but not enough. She couldn’t get enough.

“Keep going, Tyler,” Sloan said.

Danger, pleasure, all wrapped into a fiery ball of ecstasy. The flames spiraled up, out of control. Two fingers filled her, then three, moving faster, harder. She felt like the sensations were smothering her. One lungful of air and they would disappear. She pressed against Sloan’s hand, held her breath when the press of his thumb wasn’t enough.

“Don’t do that.” Sloan stroked up and down her throat, hard enough for her to feel, light enough for her to breathe if she chose to. “I wanted to see how you’d take to a little breath play, and obviously you enjoy it, but we’ll have to work up to me actually controlling how much air you can take in. Trust, sweetheart. It takes time.”

“I trust you, I trust you!” She spoke without drawing in air, almost there, almost . . .

“You’re smarter than that.” Sloan took his hand from her throat and patted her cheek. “I’ll earn your trust, not take it while you’re desperate to get off.” He glanced down. “Okay, enough, Tyler.”

Tyler removed his fingers and the tiny vibrating thing. Then he stood.

“I’m not sure I get what you’re doing, Sloan.” He put his fingers to his lips and sucked, rolling his eyes as though savoring some delicacy. “But I’m enjoying this so far.”

“Tyler.” With one hand, she blocked Sloan’s attempt to pull up her jeans. With the other, she reached for Tyler. Her fingers brushed the telling lump angling up to his belt. “Please, I need—”

“No. You want.” Sloan stepped between her and Tyler, then opened the driver’s side door of the truck. “I’ll decide what you need.”

A second longer and she’d have Tyler doing whatever she asked; the uncertainty in his eyes made it obvious. But Sloan wouldn’t let that happen.

And she felt pretty silly standing there with her jeans around her knees. Lips pursed, she jerked them up and elbowed past Sloan. “I don’t get you.”

His arm whipped out and barred across her belly. Her back hit his solid chest. He ground his erection into her butt.

“Well, get this.” He licked up the length of her throat, then bit her earlobe. Hard. She yelped, and he covered her mouth with his hand. “I’d love to fuck you right here, but you wouldn’t enjoy being watched by the very same people who saw you throw a fit on the ice. Making you desperate enough to beg was punishment enough. I don’t imagine you get off on humiliation.”

As if on cue, a bright red Volvo rumbled up the street, slowing as it passed. The couple in front glanced over, then away. The two little boys in the backseat pressed their faces against the window and waved.