GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras)

by Sommerland, Bianca

  Paul had brought Chantelle here. To their home.

  Stumbling over to the cubic, white leather sofa that split the sitting area from the dining area, she sat hard. A plain, white envelope lay on the ottoman in front of the sofa. She picked it up and used her nails to pick at the sealed part of the letter. Her hands shook, and she finally just let the letter flutter to the floor. All the white around her blurred as tears gathered. Dark brown broke through her washed-out, colorless vision. Warmth caressed her cheek.

  “Come here, sweetie.” The sofa creaked a little as Dominik sat beside her. She buried her face under his arm and sobbed. “Shh, it’s okay. About time actually.”

  “Huh?” She hiccupped on another sob, then almost choked on a laugh. “You mean about time for me to fall apart? Over Paul?”

  “Yes.” Dominik settled back on the sofa, drawing her close. “I hate the guy, and right now, you probably do too. But you didn’t always.”

  “I should have. If I’d known who he really was—”

  “What did you see in him?” he asked, the low timbre of his voice for once soothing, rather than arousing. “Maybe if I understood, I could help you get through this.”

  What did she see in him? God, how to explain?

  “From the first day, he saw how uncomfortable I was with all the attention from the press. He took me aside and told me that my father needed all the media attention for the team. He admitted that the team probably wouldn’t last long, but said my father would appreciate us both doing our best while it did. Stability at the top would encourage the investors to hang on. And a family man looks more stable than a power hungry tycoon, which is how most see my father . . .” She laughed and closed her eyes. “Because that’s what he is. But I improved his image. Paul said people were curious about me.”

  “That must have scared the hell out of you.” Dominik curved his hands around the back of her neck, massaging with the tips of his fingers.

  His touch grounded her. She nodded and bent her head forward as his fingers moved up to her nape with a bit more pressure. “But Paul prepped me for each appearance. He told me to keep my answers short and simple. I came off as shy and sweet to the press, which was perfect. My father was thrilled with my performance, but it didn’t take long before he took it for granted. The only time he paid me any attention was when the three of us went out for supper. Then he’d ask me how things were going at school. Paul warned me in advance not to tell him about the courses I’m struggling with.”

  “So basically, Paul was like a bridge between you and your father.” Dominik squeezed her shoulder, then smiled when she looked up at him. “He gave you the relationship you’d never had before.”

  She’d never seen it that way, but he was right. And Paul must have known how much she wanted that bond with her father. He’d used it, used her.

  “God, how could I have been so stupid?”

  “You weren’t stupid. You were naïve,” Dominik said firmly, as though stating a fact. “What I don’t understand is how Paul had you going for so long. You lived together. You’ve admitted the sex wasn’t good—”

  “We didn’t spend much time together. Between road games and school . . .” She rolled her eyes at her own ignorance. “Sometimes he left days early, saying he wanted the extra time to get you guys prepped for a ‘big game.’ It happened more and more often over the last few months. During my last school break, I got hooked on romance novels.” Dominik’s raised brows made her blush. “Okay, erotic novels. I started wondering what I was doing wrong. I bought sexy lingerie and planned romantic evenings. That’s when things changed. When we first got together, Paul was sweet and considerate in the bedroom. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was . . . pleasant. But weeks, sometimes months, would go by without us doing more than falling asleep with our backs to one another. We hardly even kissed unless there was a camera in the vicinity. When I came on to Paul, he acted like he was doing me a favor. And he would say . . .”

  Dominik’s muscles tensed, and she felt like she’d laid her head on stone. His breathing became hard and fast. He let out a low growl when she didn’t continue.

  “What did he say?” He sat up and pressed her head against his chest, right over his heart. “No. Don’t answer that. I want you to forget everything that bastard said to you. From this point on, you are to see yourself as I see you.” He nudged her chin up and claimed her lips in a fierce kiss, like he’d force her to swallow his words if he must. “As a beautiful, generous—”she giggled when he gave her a second to breathe. Then he sucked on her bottom lips and she groaned“—woman who’s strong and smart and too good for the likes of Paul. Got it?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She grinned when his chest puffed up. Her book had given a brief rundown of the honorific titles granted a Domme and how hard one had to work to earn them. Obviously, the same was true for a Dom. And even though she couldn’t claim Dominik as hers, she had no problem giving him the respect he deserved.

  “Good girl.”

  His approval made her feel all glowy inside. She smiled at him and fingered the button of his black pants. Why not take advantage of their time alone?

  Covering her hand with his own, Dominik clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I thought you were going to take care of me.”

  “I’m trying to.” She frowned when he stood. “You don’t want—”

  He shook his head. “I always want with you, sweetie.” He kicked a pair of Paul’s boxers and scowled up at the bedroom. “But this place reeks of Paul and his whore. Let me help you clean up and—”

  “You’ve got a game in a few hours.” She plucked the envelope she’d dropped off the floor and stuffed it between the cushions. “Come to think of it, I don’t have the stomach to clean up Paul and Chantelle’s mess. I’ll take care of your arm at the hotel. Just let me pack some stuff and—”

  “I saw the letter, Oriana.” He strode up to one of the windows and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “No use hiding it. You don’t have to tell me what it says if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s not that.” She went to the small closet under the stairs leading up to the bedroom and took out a small suitcase. Keeping herself busy would snuff the nagging curiosity. Why would Paul leave her a note? What more could he have to say? “You can read it if you want. I’m not interested.”

  “What did I tell you about lying to me, Oriana?”

  She tensed, prepared for him to cross the room and grab her, but he hadn’t moved. The built-up adrenaline died a bittersweet death. Odd, but she’d kind of wished he had come after her for breaking his number one rule. The idea excited her. His inaction concerned her. Would he wait until they got back to the hotel?

  Clearing her throat, she hugged the suitcase to her chest. “Are you going to punish me?”

  He gave her an amused look over his shoulder. “Yes. But not now. I’ll let you stew for a while.”

  “Hmph.” She rolled her eyes and stomped up the stairs. Tossing everything she might need for the next few days in the suitcase, she considered her punishment. Lady in Charge had a whole chapter on disciplining wayward submissives. Dominik obviously couldn’t use a cock cage on her, but he could use something equally unpleasant. She tried to think of the worst things imaginable and came up with everything from whippings that left her back a bloody mess—which didn’t seem Dominik’s style—to being denied orgasm for eternity. A little excessive, but even being forced not to come once would be pure torture.

  Punishments aren’t supposed to be pleasant. You only get punished if you do something wrong.

  And she had done something wrong. He hadn’t asked for much. He didn’t expect her to bare her soul. He’d asked for nothing but truth between them.

  Finished packing, she returned downstairs and dropped her suitcase by the door. Then she walked up to Dominik and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Pressing her forehead against his back, she whispered. “I’m sorry. I really am interested in the letter, sadly enoug
h. Can you just read it and tell me what it says? Please?”

  He turned and kissed the top of her brow. “Sure.” He tipped her face up with a finger and kissed her lips. “And consider your punishment served.”

  She stared at him as he went to the sofa and plucked the letter from between the cushions. “That’s it?”

  “This time,” he said, tearing the letter open. “You learned your lesson, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, that’s the point of a punishment. But I’m warning you . . .” His expression turned stern. “Next time, I won’t be so lenient.”

  “Okay.” She bit her lip and decided there wouldn’t be a next time. She liked it much better when he was happy with her. “So . . . ?”

  He unfolded the letter, scanned it, then crumpled it in his fist. “He’s staying with Chantelle. He’s giving you a few days to ‘smarten up,’ then he’ll call you.”

  “Really.” She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, feeling the threatening sting of tears. Not again. She would not waste another tear on that pathetic excuse for a man. “Well, I hope he’s in for one hell of a shock.”

  She took her phone from where she’d stuffed it in the deep pocket of Tyler’s shorts and dialed the number for the concierge. After instructing him to have someone come and pack up Paul’s things and have them shipped to Chantelle’s, she hung up and gave Dominik a stiff smile.

  “Well, that’s done. Now all I have to do is change the locks, and I won’t ever have to deal with Paul again.” She picked up her suitcase and opened the door, wishing she didn’t have to come back here, but accepting the fact that she had nowhere else to go. “Shall we?”

  Dominik took the suitcase from her, pausing at her side to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “For today, I do.” She let out a sigh of relief when he nodded, as though satisfied with her answer. Then she moved past him as he held the door open for her. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow, not yet.”

  Tomorrow, she’d have to face her future. Without Paul, which was good.

  But her relationship with Max only really needed one other man. She assumed he’d choose Sloan.

  Out on the street, steps away from the rental, she stopped Dominik with a hand on his arm.

  “When a submissive chooses a Dom, they’ll do anything to please him or her—”

  “Essentially. Why do you ask?” Deep creases formed between Dominik’s eyes, and he seemed to be trying to read something in her expression. “Do you think Max will want more than you’re prepared to give?”

  “You told me not to lie to you, Dominik.” She dropped her gaze when he scowled. “Please don’t ask me that.”

  “Fine.” He drew away from her and went to put her suitcase in the trunk. Then he stopped by the driver’s side door and looked over the car at her. “But you better come to me if his demands become unreasonable.”

  She nodded, hoping not making the promise out loud wouldn’t be considered a lie.

  Max asking me to commit to one other man wouldn’t be unreasonable.

  But the commitment might just be more than she was prepared to give. Her heart felt like it had been split, but not in half. She couldn’t even see how the pieces fit together anymore. But she knew she needed them all to be whole.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Music erupted from the speakers of the stadium. The crowd rose from their seats for the singing of the national anthems. Sloan held his helmet under his arm and took his place dead center on the blue line. His tongue touched his bottom lip, still slick with Oriana’s peach-flavored lip gloss. That kiss topped them all.

  As usual, there were plenty of empty seats in the forum. Being the owner’s daughter, Oriana claimed a seat right by the rink where the Cobras came on the ice. When Sloan came out, she’d hopped out of her seat and leaned over. He’d climbed up, and the crowd went wild as they kissed. Suddenly, weird sixties-style guitar strumming cut off the AC/DC riff. The Monkees’ “When Love Comes Knockin’” played out, making him feel like a putz. A very lucky putz.

  The fans laughed. They cheered. Then the kiss replayed on the scoreboard. Oriana’s cheeks got redder than the maple leaf on the flag, and she hid her face inside her jersey.

  Adorably shy, but he had to give the girl one thing, putting herself out there had taken some guts. Maybe her original plan hadn’t gotten Paul to back off, but their public display should do it. He’d look like a fool if he tried staking a claim now. And her father would probably do anything in his power to stop her from showcasing her relationships with him and the other men again. Fine, she hadn’t kissed all the men, but she’d kissed him while wearing Mason’s jersey. That would get people talking.

  Our girl’s a winner. Sloan grinned. He was proud of her. And he was even more determined than ever to make her just as proud of him. Of all of them.

  The crowd roared as the teams met at center ice. The ref dropped the puck; Sloan won the face-off. He passed the puck to T.J. who whipped it to Vanek. Vanek evaded a check and streamed to the other end of the rink. Sloan rushed the opponents’ net with Perron. Fanned the puck. Kicked it to the other side of the net. The puck hit a Blue Jacket defenseman, and Mason stopped it with his stick and redirected it to Vanek who tucked it in the net just as the goaltender skidded to block Mason.

  Red lights blared, and Sloan crashed into Vanek, hooking his arm around the boy’s neck to congratulate him. Mason, T.J., and Perron slammed into them, whooping like madmen. You’d have thought they’d never scored before.

  Play continued. Sloan and his line played more minutes than they ever had before—either Coach Stanton’s idea of revenge, or he’d finally smartened up and decided he wanted to win. In any case, by the end of the game, Sloan had two goals and three assists. They beat the Blue Jackets seven to three. Let Delgado send him down after that. The fans would throw a fit.

  But the victory couldn’t compete with the lust that built as he showered, thinking of the woman who would finally be in his arms. Of the body he would possess before the night was over.

  Oriana’s love for the game glowed in her eyes as she twirled into the sitting room. She went from one man to the next, hugging them, kissing them, recapping the game with a fervor that made him so hot he was tempted to haul her over his shoulder and carry her to his bedroom. But she made them watch the highlights of the game and fell asleep on the sofa, her head on Max’s lap, her feet on T.J.’s.

  All the lust eroding him was replaced by something tender as he watched Max carry her to his room. Dominik bowed out with a tight smile and went to his own room, as did T.J. and Vanek. They were giving him his turn.

  He took his place on the bed.

  “Don’t wake her up,” Max said as Sloan snuggled up behind Oriana.

  “I don’t plan to.” He laid his head on the pillow and smoothed out her hair. “She’s something else.”

  Max lay on his back, careful not to move the arm Oriana rested on. “That she is.”

  * * * *

  A little wiggle and Sloan was instantly awake. His dick stirred and thickened when a hand passed over it. He groaned, then grinned when Oriana giggled. Eager little minx.

  Her gaze led his down. Both her hands were on his bare chest.

  Sloan sat up and shoved Max’s big hand off his thigh. “What the hell, man!”

  Grumbling something incoherent, Max rolled over and resumed snoring.

  Oriana laughed. “I didn’t know you two were so close. Maybe I should give you some privacy?”

  Sloan chuckled. “Get over here.”

  He clamped his hands around the nape of her neck, pulled her up, and brought his lips down hard. Her tongue flicked out, and she gasped when he caught it with his teeth. He gently tugged and sucked until breathy little whimpers filled his mouth with her hot breath.

  “I think I need to remind you what team I play for.”

  The way she clung to his hair, like she wanted to control ho
w far and fast things would go, made him smile. He twisted out of her grip and pressed a kiss between her breasts.

  “If you want me to stop, just say so.” He kissed the underside of one breast, just above where it sat atop her ribs. “Otherwise, hold on to the top of the mattress and don’t move.”

  He could feel the pulse thrumming beneath his lips speed up.

  “What happens if I move?”

  “I’ll assume you don’t want me to take control. So I won’t. And I refuse to take you any other way.” He grazed her other breast with the day-old scruff on his chin. “You didn’t get off last time because you focused on the pleasure of the others and took none for yourself. I don’t play that way, babe.”

  Her arms stretched over her head, then slid down to her sides.

  One brow raised, he took a push-up position over her, his knees by her hips, and looked pointedly at her hands.

  She looked pointedly at his cock. “You want me, Sloan.”

  “That I do.” He sat up and put his hands on his thighs. “I want you to come in my mouth, I want you to come while Max and I fill you up—nice and slow—then I want you to come again when we both come deep inside you.”

  “That sounds . . .” She shuddered, which was answer enough.

  Then Max spoke up. “That sounds perfect.” He braced his elbow on the bed and his head on his hand. Then he patted the top of the mattress. “Come on, sugar. Do what the man says.”

  Oriana’s eyes narrowed as she studied Max’s face, like she was looking for a sign of some sort. Waiting for him to take charge.

  The heavy-lidded look Max gave her made Sloan laugh. “If you’re waiting for Perron to take the lead, you’ll be waiting all night, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t push it, Callahan,” Max said.