She tore off her nightshirt, then dove for her suitcase. Her tits bounced as she flung random clothes around the room. Mason stared. Sloan did his best not to laugh. Much better. Once she set her mind on something, there was no stopping her, no matter how crazy the idea. Her energy sizzled into him, and he almost believed this one would pay off.
Mason didn’t look so sure. “There’s no guarantee, bunny.” He bent over and started picking up the undergarments littering his floor. “I don’t want you—”
“Shut up,” Oriana said, pulling on a loose shirt, not bothering with a bra. Then she wiggled into a pair of tights, straightened, and put her hands on her hips. “Do you have a better idea, Master?”
Eyes narrow and black with ire, Mason fairly growled. “Yes.”
Oriana’s brows arched under her tousled bangs. “Unless it’s a way to help Max or the team, I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Punish me for my rudeness later.”
“I plan to.”
Focused as she was, Oriana still shuddered in response to the threat in Mason’s tone. Sloan got a little hard, considering the ways he’d involve himself in disciplining her. Because he would. And with all those bruises he’d left . . . Mason wouldn’t spank their mouthy little sub. Actually, Sloan would be surprised if Mason ever used spanking as a punishment unless he needed a spur-of-the-moment way to make a point. The girl had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.
* * * *
You might want to get your stuff out. Your dad sold the condo.
Oriana crumpled the note from Paul in her hand and took a deep breath. Bile rose in her throat. Her father had taken everything, which shouldn’t have surprised her, but—
God, I really mean nothing to him.
Closing her account hadn’t been enough. She’d been stupid enough to move here for him, to become dependent on him, giving him all the power. And in return, he’d tossed her away like so much trash.
I’m homeless and broke. This is what I get for trying to be the perfect daughter.
Of course, the “perfect daughter” wouldn’t have resorted to blackmail.
What else was I supposed to do? Stay with Paul?
No. Maybe things hadn’t gone as planned, but at least she was free. Whatever happened, she was finally worth something to someone. Several someones. She had everything she could ever want. Except Max’s freedom. Which she was working on.
“This might take a little longer than planned.” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. “There are some things I need to get out of here. I have no idea how much longer this place will be mine.”
She dropped the paper and went inside. A crinkle behind her told her one of the men had picked up the note. Didn’t matter. She could stay with Max until she got a job and found a place. Despite her pride’s protest, reason prevailed.
Once again, she needed evidence. If she found some, everything would work out.
“Where did Vanek go after you came back?” She heard Dominik ask Sloan from somewhere below while she scoured through the office off the bedroom upstairs. “I haven’t seen him.”
“He took off right after we pulled in,” Sloan replied. “Probably went to stay with one of the other guys.”
Her chest tightened. That was her fault too. She couldn’t make amends with Tyler now, but as soon as she dealt with the mess she’d gotten Max into . . .
She flipped through all the account books on Paul’s desk, frustrated when she realized she had no clue what to look for. None of the books would be labeled “Fucking Over My Team.” One labeled “Stats” looked promising, but the numbers beside each player’s name matched everything she already knew.
“Find anything?” Sloan asked as he stepped into the room.
There was no hope in his tone, only acceptance. He didn’t believe they’d find anything here.
Please let him be wrong.
She opened a big black book without a label and ran her finger over the games listed by date. A discrepancy quickened her pulse.
“You won this game.” She pointed at a date in March. “But this says loss. That’s got to mean something?”
Please tell me I’m right?
Sloan took the book and propped his hip on the edge of the desk while he balanced the book on one hand. “We did win.” He ran his finger down over the dates. “And look. There’s a few other games, wins and losses, scribbled out.” He flipped through the pages. “The last game he marked as a loss was scratched out so hard the page is ripped. This is it!”
She hopped up and hugged Sloan. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear!”
He hooked an arm around her waist and held her firmly in place. “Yes, but you do realize this won’t stand up in court—or even under the scrutiny of the commissioner. But—” he cuffed her chin lightly with his fist when she let her disappointment show “—it should be enough for an investigation. We’ll get Max a good lawyer. With his testimony and this, maybe the league will—”
“Let me see.” Dominik took the book, pacing while he studied the pages as though memorizing every condemning detail. “We tied all these games, Callahan, then either won or lost in overtime. This proves nothing.” He sighed. “Besides, even if you’re right and Stanton ‘predicted’ the games ahead of time, how do we prove that now? We’ll look like we’re setting him up—and doing a lame ass job of it, too. All we have to go on is Perron’s testimony. He’s got a clean record, which should work in his favor. All he has to do is threaten to go public—if he did, the league would have to do an inquiry just to save face.”
Oriana thunked her forehead against Sloan’s chest. “So we did all this for nothing.”
“Not for nothing.” Dominik bent to kiss the exposed flesh above the collar of her T-shirt. “We might have found something. In any case, Perron just called. He’s got a new lawyer, one who might be able to get him out on bail by the end of the week. He sounds optimistic—and he wants to talk to you.”
A starburst of happiness exploded in her chest. She looked over her shoulder at Dominik “He’s on the phone? Now?”
“Yes.” Dominik hooked a Bluetooth over her ear, hit a button on his cell, then motioned for her to “go ahead.”
“Max?”
“Hello, darlin’. Are you all right?” His tone sounded gruff with concern. “Mason told me Sloan hurt you, then left you alone. I thought you were just going to meet his dad . . . shit, I don’t mean you shouldn’t have . . . well, you shouldn’t have done anything extreme, but—”
Oriana moved away from the men, cupping her hand over her ear so she could hear Max better. She had to get herself a Bluetooth; she loved the way he sounded like he was right there with her. The only thing better would be if he really was.
“I told Sloan I was okay. Maybe I wasn’t completely honest, but that’s my fault. Besides, I would have gotten real bitchy if he hadn’t gone after Tyler. He needed Sloan more than I did.” She went to the bedroom, to her bed, and nestled into the pillows. “What about you? Dominik said you made him wait outside. You wouldn’t be locked up if you’d had a witness.”
Max was silent for what seemed like a very long time. Then he said quietly, “I needed to face Paul alone. Maybe it wasn’t smart, but, you know, what’s done is done. Forget that. I want you to do something for me.”
She didn’t even think twice before answering. “Name it.”
“My lawyer got me half an hour of phone time. I want to spend it with you—picturing what the men are doing to you.”
Two sets of footsteps dragged her attention from the pillow she was hugging to the door. Dominik went to her dresser and shuffled through the top drawer. Sloan crawled onto the bed behind her.
Air jammed in her throat. She stuttered. “W-what will they—”
“They’ll do exactly what I’ve asked them to.” Max’s breath sounded ragged in her ear. “And I’ll be here for a bit to make sure you’re okay, then Mason will take over. Do you trust my judgment?”
> Her body trembled with excitement, fear, and other feelings she had no words for. She hissed in a breath as Sloan pulled her hands behind her and positioned them at the base of her spine.
“Don’t move,” he said in a way that guaranteed she wouldn’t.
Something rough, yet pliant, looped around her forearms. A rope. Slightly cool, and smooth, like satin. Like the curtain ties from her living room windows.
He wound the rope around and around, from just above her wrists to just below her elbows, tight enough to draw her shoulders back without putting any strain in her arms.
Sloan tugged the ropes. “Comfortable?”
She nodded. Then shook her head. The ropes felt odd, much more secure than hands or a belt.
“Oriana,” Max said. “Trust? Answer?”
Oops. “I told you I trusted you. I always will.” She meant it, but . . .
“Good girl.” Max’s approval made her all glowy from the inside out. “Dominik is going to blindfold you. Is he doing it?”
He was. One of the red and gold silk scarves from Oriana’s collection—all gifts from her sister who didn’t “get” her lack of fashion sense—slid over her eyes. Sunlight filtered through the sheer fabric, and she could just barely make out the shadowy shapes of her dressers, the bed frame, and . . . Dominik? Yes, had to be Dominik, Sloan was still behind her, testing the snugness of the ropes by running his fingers under them. Then he trailed his finger up her arms. The featherlight touch grazed a ticklish spot, and she jumped. The ropes seemed to tighten, like living things, snakes, inhibiting movement. She twisted her wrists. I’m stuck. Her heart hammered in her chest. Oh, bad. Very bad.
“You’ve got to play along for this to work, love. Talk to me. The way you’re breathing, short and fast, makes me think you’ve been blindfolded—and perhaps bound as well?”
Max’s casual question pulled her away from panic mode. His voice might not give her the carnal thrill Dominik’s did, but it still affected her. Listening to him made her feel cozy, like shedding confining layers after a hard day, then curling up on the sofa with a favorite blanket and a mug of cocoa. Everything about Max made her feel like she was finally home.
“Did Sloan tie you up, babe? I asked him because he’s got skill, and rope work relaxes him.” Max paused. “He’s admitted that tying a sub up is almost as erotic as the first slice of a whip on her flesh. The heightened anxiety as she forces herself not to struggle, the fear of what’s to come . . . I’m not a sadist, but even I find that hot. Tell me, Oriana. Are you a little afraid?”
Her palms dampened. She hadn’t been. He’d taken her fear.
Then handed it right back.
Answer. Max is waiting. “Yes. A little.”
Max’s voice soothed her. “Your safe word is Flora. You know the statue of the goddess near the bandstands I pointed out—she reminds me of you. Sensual. Beautiful. Can you remember that, precious?”
Her shirt was pulled off, left to hang over her bound wrists. She’d gotten somewhat used to being naked around these men, but not seeing where they were, not knowing what they’d do, made her feel much more exposed. She hunched over in an effort to hide her breasts. The pillow still in her lap covered her a little.
Until someone took it away.
“No hiding. Not today,” Dominik said from right in front of her. “Sit up straight and put your feet flat on the floor.”
She moved to obey.
“Wait,” Max said in her ear. She froze. “Tell him your safe word.”
She nodded, then tipped her head up. “Max wants me to tell you my safe word is Flora.”
“Good. Use it whenever you need to, but I’ll be paying very close attention to you, so I’ll probably notice any discomfort before you even think to say the word.” Dominik’s fingers traced her lips. “You’ll be including Max by giving him details. Otherwise, I’d want you silent. Since you have the advantage of speech, don’t hesitate to let me know if you’re overwhelmed. We can slow down, discuss any issues, and decide together whether or not to go on. Understand?”
She gave him a quick nod.
“If you’re allowed to talk, ‘Yes, Master Mason’ might be a good idea right now,” Max said. “You want to stay on his good side.”
Max’s warning kicked her anxiety up another notch. Ugh, if you were here, I’d smack you. “I understand, Sir.”
“Excellent, pet.” Dominik’s baritone deepened with disapproval. “Perron told us he wanted you to start using the title of Master during play. Did he fail to mention it?”
Should I lie? To Dominik? Not a good idea. “His exact words were, ‘It might be a good idea.’”
“I see.” Dominik didn’t sound impressed with her honesty. “So you’ve no desire to please him. Or to truly submit.”
“No! I do want to please him, I just . . .” Just what? He’s right. You ignored him ‘cause you were annoyed. But she did want to please Max. Very confusing. “I guess I took it more as a suggestion than an order.”
Dominik’s hand caught her chin firmly. “Yes, well, I suggest you stop using Max being nice as an excuse to deny yourself the experience of true submission. He’s still learning, so you mistakenly believe you’ve got room to wiggle out of obedience. Sloan and I are here to rid you of that illusion.”
Scarier and scarier. But this time, she let the fear trickle through her and stopped fighting how much it turned her on. Her pussy moistened, her nipples hardened. She was ready to do anything they asked.
Starting with doing as she’d been told. She placed her feet on the floor and said quietly. “I’m sorry, Master Mason. I’ll be good.”
Sloan roared out a laugh behind her. “This I’ve gotta see.”
His disbelief made her even more determined. She remained perfectly still as something clunked on the floor near her feet. A ripping sound had her tensing up, but she didn’t move when something flat and sticky was wrapped around one ankle. Then the other. Curious, she shifted her legs. They were restrained far apart.
“You’ve got some scissors for the rope I presume?” Dominik asked.
“Yeah.” Sloan replied.
“Good. Cut her tights and panties off.” Before she had a chance to react to Dominik’s alarming instructions, he continued. “Max must be feeling left out, pet. Tell him what we’re doing.”
She wet her lips and nodded. “I can’t see what they’ve used, but my legs are being held apart.”
“Dominik used duct tape and a hockey stick,” Sloan said. “Pretty creative.”
Her eyes widened under the blindfold. A hockey stick? She relayed the information to Max.
He chuckled. “What a fucking visual. I’m gonna be thinking of this next time I get on the ice, darlin’. Your beautiful thighs open wide, restrained on my stick. Who needs a spreader bar?”
Obviously, anything Dominik “needed” he could improvise from whatever was handy. She hoped he wouldn’t decide she needed some kind of gag. She’d rather not have a hockey puck jammed between her teeth.
That image made her giggle. Cold metal touched her hip, and she jumped.
“What’s happening?” Max asked.
Snip, snip, snip. She felt her tights stretch away from where Sloan had cut.
She scrunched up her nose. “Sloan’s hacking up my clothes. I don’t know why they didn’t take everything off before tying me up. Seems kinda stupid to me.”
Max groaned. “Oh, Oriana.”
“Tilt her back, Sloan.” Dominik’s tone had changed. He didn’t sound annoyed or disappointed. Definitely not mad. The tone was more like . . . steel-edged control.
A firm grip on her shoulder tipped her until she was balancing on the roundest part of her butt. Her nerves buzzed as though every last one was on high alert. All her senses focused on Dominik.
The fresh, slightly musky scent of the shampoo he’d used the night before filled the air as it had when she’d slept in his arms. Nice. She smiled a little at the memory. The rough calluses on his palms slid
up her calves, causing the muscles in her legs to jerk. He lifted her legs up high, then lowered them slowly. The scruff on his cheeks brushed her inner thighs. Little shivers of arousal traveled over her, and her toes curled. His shoulders forced her thighs open even more, causing her pussy lips to part. His breath teased her very wet folds.
Sloan let out a low laugh as he nuzzled her cheek. “Time to pay for being so naughty, bunny.”
Pay? Oh! Dominik’s tongue thrust right into her, pressing past the inner muscles that immediately clenched. The abrupt penetration drove heat up and up, until she felt like her climax was a spring, already coiled deep, ready to be released. She panted, amazed that he’d gotten the reaction so fast.
“Oriana?” Max prompted gently.
She shimmied her hips as the tip of Dominik’s tongue wiggled. The bruises on her butt gave a throb of protest, but the pain merged with pleasure, heightening her awareness of everything he was doing to her. A little bit more . . . Don’t forget, Max. She gasped and blurted out. “Dominik’s got his tongue inside me. Oh! Mmm—Max, it’s nice. So fucking nice . . .”
Dominik’s wicked tongue eased in and out, torturously slow. He withdrew, swirled his tongue around her clit, then thrust. Withdrew, swirled, thrust. The rhythm brought her right to the precipice of what she knew would be one of the most intense orgasms she’d ever had. Her body shook. Her back bowed. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
And he stopped.
Every exquisite sensation abruptly died, leaving only the agonizing need for release. She clenched her fists and shook her head. “No! Dominik—Master—Please don’t stop!”
“I already have, pet.” Dominik lifted her legs up and off him. She saw his shadowy form through the blindfold, moving toward the window. “If you’re very sorry and very good, I may eventually let you come. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Damn you, I’m sorry!”
“I’d try a different approach if I was you, darlin’,” Max said with a hint of laughter in his tone. “Subs beg; they don’t make demands.”
GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras) Page 28