Dominik

by Sawyer Bennett

  We need a unifying event. A moment where we can settle down, remember our dreams are within reach, and fortify ourselves for the upcoming battle.

  I thought a chance for us to gather and just “be together” in a relaxed setting could be of immense benefit. Seeing as how we are getting ready to go into game seven and have gone further than any other expansion team ever has is enough to put nerves and tension at an all-time high.

  I need my guys to relax, regroup, and shore up their resolve.

  Need them to walk into that arena tomorrow with winning attitudes.

  There’s no way I could have pulled this together without Willow. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, and it’s no easy feat to host almost fifty people on that sort of notice.

  But Willow reached into our “significant other” community, deciding to have a potluck. She asked each couple to bring their favorite dish. Didn’t matter if it was sweet or savory, just bring their favorite. For all I know, we could end up with twenty-five desserts, which is not typically a bad thing, but my guys do have a game to play tomorrow. Can’t have upset stomachs and all that.

  The point being is the core nucleus of the Vengeance organization is in my house. There’s good food spread out all over the kitchen counters and tables. People are grouped in small pockets, eating off paper plates with plastic forks while connecting personally with their fellow players. It’s a rarity we have events where the entire team is present and have their ride-or-die person with them. There are no kids to distract, and there isn’t even a party atmosphere because we have a critical game tomorrow.

  It’s quiet conversation and fellowship, which is exactly what this team needs tonight.

  To my surprise, Willow makes herself busy as presiding hostess. It’s a bit of a shock since her helping me host a party at my house makes a bold statement to everyone that we’re a couple. While it’s no secret we’ve been seeing each other, only the tight inner circle of the first line knows it’s getting serious. I suppose after tonight, the rest of the team will understand that, too.

  I’m okay with that.

  Ecstatic, actually.

  It means Willow is opening herself up more and more to the possibility of something deep and meaningful with me. I’m more than ready for it.

  I follow her lead tonight, weaving in and out of the small groups of conversing people, making sure I spend quality time with each member of my team. If I didn’t know their significant other before, I make sure I do by the time I leave them to move to the next group.

  Coach Perron and I share time over glasses of scotch, and I let him talk out any concerns he might have. Turns out, he doesn’t have any because, like me, he has confidence in this team. I like that a lot.

  The food gets eaten, conversations wind up, and folks start packing it in for what we all hope is a good night of rest. Willow and I end up spending a good half hour at my front door, wishing each of the guys and their partners good night. There aren’t any handshakes because by the time everything wound down, I’d felt closer to each one of these people. I kiss the cheeks of the women and give half hugs with hearty back slaps to the guys. Willow stands by my side, also bestowing farewell hugs.

  It’s when we close the door on Coach Perron, most everyone else having left, and return to the living room that I realize the core group is still here. My first line.

  Bishop, Erik, Legend, Dax, Wylde, and Tacker.

  I glance through the open living space into the kitchen, spotting Brooke, Blue, Pepper, Regan, and Nora in the kitchen cleaning up.

  Willow slips her arm around my waist, leaning into me with a slight squeeze. “I’ll go help get the kitchen cleaned up. You go hang with the boys.”

  I could stare at her for days when she’s like this. Gazing up with a softness on her face that’s moving. It’s a clear acceptance of me and what I mean to her. She’s taken on the mantle of my significant other, and I’m so proud of her because I know how hard it’s been for her to get to this place.

  This new role she’s stepped into moves me in a way I haven’t felt yet with Willow. It feels like I’ve reached a summit after a long, arduous climb and the sunrise at the top is too overwhelming to even describe.

  I can do nothing but give her an acknowledging smile because if I tried to respond in any other way, I might make a fool of myself.

  Willow walks away from me and I gesture to the men to follow before heading through the living room to the sliding glass patio doors. The men follow me out so we can enjoy the cool evening air.

  There’s a large outdoor bar area in the shape of a horseshoe that Mrs. Osborne keeps fully stocked. I slide behind it. “Anyone want a nightcap?”

  They all decline, which isn’t surprising. While alcohol is in no way forbidden the night before a game—hell, some players even party hard the night before a game—it’s clear these guys aren’t going to do anything to jeopardize their bodies while in the playoffs.

  I bend to reach into the small fridge built into the bar unit, then pass out bottled waters to the men. After, I pour myself another glass of scotch. I don’t have to worry about a hangover, but this is only my third drink of the evening. My last, too.

  No one bothers to take a seat, pushing away the stools that circle the bar. They lean their elbows on the stone top and it’s not lost on me as I’m behind the U-shape of the bar that they’re circled around the outside, which makes it a bit of an intimate huddle of friends.

  “Tonight was really great,” Bishop says. “We needed this.”

  “Yeah,” Tacker agrees. “This was perfect. We needed to just settle.”

  I shrug, not wanting to admit to my interference. “We just needed to focus on the fact we are more than just a sports team. We’re a family, and no matter what fucking happens tomorrow… we’ll do it together as a family.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Erik says with a grin. He holds his water bottle up, which garners mutters of agreement.

  “Any word from Rafe?” I ask Wylde.

  It’s been a week and a half since Rafe’s dad died on the day the Cold Fury had game one against the New York Vipers in their conference finals. He didn’t play in that game, but I noticed he was back for the next three where the Cold Fury swept their opponents in four games, securing their spot in the Cup finals.

  While we’ve been battling, scraping, and clawing our way through this series, the Cold Fury has been recovering and regaining their strength while waiting to see who they’d play.

  “It was good for him to get right back on the ice,” Wylde says. “Said it was his dad’s wish for Rafe not to miss any games after he died. They’ll have a memorial service after the playoffs are finished.”

  There’s admittedly a small part of me that’s a bit regretful Rafe isn’t still with us. But I’m happy he was able to spend those precious weeks with his dad before he died, and he’s still able to play. It’s probably the best thing for him.

  “I think it bears saying again,” Wylde continues, and there’s something in his tone that has all our eyes glued on him. “It was a real decent thing you did by trading him.”

  I brush the compliment off. “I seem to recall asking each of your opinions on the matter, and you all agreed we should do it. It was as much your decision as mine.”

  “But you’re the boss,” Legend points out. “It was your call and your skills that got Gray Brannon to make the deal.”

  “Regardless,” Wylde says softly. “I know from personal experience… you could not have handed Rafe a better gift.”

  Tacker’s gaze drops and he nods as if he knows exactly what Wylde is referencing. Of course, he would. He and Wylde have been best friends for a long time.

  There’s pain and regret in Wylde’s tone, and I want to know more because I apparently can’t fucking help myself when it comes to my guys. I open my mouth to ask what, but the sliding door opens. Then, the women come pouring out onto the patio.

  “Okay, boys,” Brooke announces as she walks up to Bisho
p. “As the self-appointed captain of the better-half squad—”

  “The better-half squad?” Wylde asks with a laugh.

  “That’s us women,” Brooke replies, circling her hand to indicate said females. “You know… the better halves of you men.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Wylde retorts with a sly wink. “I’m a better half all unto myself.”

  “You’ll have a good woman one day,” Pepper reassures him as she leans over and playfully punches him in the arm.

  “No thank you,” he drawls, then gives a faux shudder to make sure we understand he likes being single.

  “Anyway,” Brooke continues as she loops her arm through Bishop’s. “It’s getting late, and we want you guys to get a good night’s sleep. So we’re busting up this party and forcibly removing you from Dominik’s house.”

  Willow is the last to step out onto the patio. She holds a glass of wine, a smile gracing that beautiful face.

  The men straighten, move back from the bar, and pair off with their woman. All except Wylde, that is, who doesn’t ever seem to be bothered during these get-togethers over being the lone single man left in this group.

  “Looks like we’re calling it a night,” Erik muses as he grabs Blue by the hand.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Willow offers, moving to the bar and setting her glass down next to mine.

  “Don’t bother.” Nora waves her off as Tacker puts his arm around her shoulder. “We’ll see ourselves out. You two stay out here and enjoy this gorgeous night.”

  That’s all I need to hear. I reach out, nab Willow by the elbow, and pull her into my side. When I put an arm around her back, she reciprocates. We stand side by side as our guests—yes, our guests—disappear through the patio door and into the house as they call out farewells.

  When the door closes, we silently watch the gang through the large windows along the patio. They meander through the house and right out the door. I file away a reminder to engage the lock before we go to bed.

  I pick up my scotch, lean an elbow on the bar, and tip my head toward Willow. “Thank you.”

  She takes her glass of wine, shifts her body to face me, and also puts an elbow on the bar. “What for?”

  “For just being you,” I say, touching the tip of my glass to hers. “And for being more.”

  Willow smiles, eyes dropping to her wine before raising the glass to her lips. She takes a small sip. “I’m glad you liked the more.”

  She knows exactly what I’m talking about. That I’ve noticed she’s taken the next step to moving our relationship forward.

  I also know she wouldn’t want me making a huge deal about it. Willow’s working through her trust issues. She’s slowly learning I’m not going to hurt her, and she’s taking tentative baby steps to meet me halfway.

  Still, I do need her to know one thing. I learned a hard lesson as a child, that nothing is ever guaranteed and the people we love can be taken from us without any warning or reason. It taught me never to hold back on how I feel.

  Setting my glass down, I take Willow’s from her hand and place it on the bar. Framing her face with my palms, I bend to put my face near hers. She blinks, waiting patiently and without fear to hear what I have to say that’s so important I need to hold her attention like this.

  “I’m crazy about you, Willow,” I say softly, bending so I can brush my lips against hers. Pulling back just enough so I can see her again, I continue. “You need to know when all this started, I was on the same exact page you were. It was supposed to be temporary. A fun fling. We’d have a good time, and then we’d move on. But it turned into more. We both know it and I think tonight has made it clear we’ve both accepted it, too. I’m glad for that. I just need you to know what we have between us is beautiful, and it’s more than I’d ever dreamed of having in my life.”

  Willow’s eyes move back and forth between mine as she considers what I’ve said. Her lips curve upward, clearly happy with my words. She answers me with a kiss, her hands locking behind my neck to pull me to her.

  I know it’s hard for her to take this step. The words are probably locked in her throat and releasing them would make it even more real.

  It’s okay that I don’t hear them, though, because fuck if I don’t feel her emotions in the very kiss she bestows on me. I feel the very core of her feelings for me from just the touch of her lips and the glide of her tongue.

  My heart responds, but so does my body. I drop my hands to her ass, then pull her in so she can feel my response.

  Willow moans when my erection presses into her, then she’s in my arms, legs wrapped around my waist.

  I turn, heading toward the doors, but Willow pulls her mouth from mine. “Out here.”

  Pausing, I consider the patio furniture options. There’s a heavy rattan couch with thick, wide cushions. It will work.

  Clearly, our sexual relationship has been an important component in the level of our intimacy. Willow’s adventurous, eager to explore, and isn’t afraid of anything. Most of the time, I lead.

  Order.

  Demand.

  Push.

  Force.

  And she bends beautifully. I’ve learned well enough that’s what Willow loves. I truly think it’s the only time in her life she is empowered by giving up control. By not making decisions and allowing someone else to tell her what to do.

  But tonight, I want her to show me more of herself. She may not be able to return the words—simple dialogue to let me know just how she feels—but she’s great with touch.

  I drop to the couch, lying back, and settle Willow on top to straddle me. Her hands come to my chest and she stares down, head tilted in question.

  “Do your worst, Miss Monahan,” I taunt, clasping my hands behind my head.

  For a brief moment, she seems unsure of herself. By forcing her to lead, it means she has control of our narrative tonight. It’s not a position she’s comfortable with.

  But my girl is unafraid as I see a spark of challenge deep within her eyes.

  “How about I do my best?” she replies, which sounds even better.

  Willow reaches to her hips, slowly pulling up the sleeveless linen dress she wears. She’d paired it with simple black sandals that are now missing. I imagine she kicked them off as she was cleaning up the kitchen with the rest of the women because she’s comfortable in my house.

  Her body is revealed, inch by inch. I’ve always thought it was pure perfection in its curves and angles, but my favorite part by far is how soft her skin is. I can never get enough, and I move my hands to her hips.

  Pretty pink scraps of lace cover the junction between her thighs and her breasts. My thumbs play at the lace trim on her panties. Willow settles down on me and I can feel the heat of her through the material of my pants, causing my cock to thicken even more.

  Willow places the tips of her fingers right at the base of her neck. Slowly, she trails them down the center of her chest, through the deep cleavage of her breasts, and over her flat stomach. She flirts with the waistband of her panties before moving to her hip to curl her fingers around my wrist.

  I hold tight as she tugs, but I eventually let her have her way. She guides my hand to the space between her legs, giving it an insistent push. When my knuckles brush against her, her head tips back and her eyes close. The tiny moan that comes out of her is my undoing.

  Her message is simple, and I receive it loud and clear.

  Willow doesn’t want to take control.

  No, that’s not quite right.

  She needs me to have it in this part of our relationship, and I find I’m quite all right with that.

  I draw her down so I can taste her mouth. She does such amazing things with her lips, I just want them on mine right now. The kiss is deep yet gentle. Force can be dove-like at times.

  As we kiss, I glide my hand back between her legs. Fingers dive under that pink lace into her wet depths. I love making her squirm and with sweet, practiced strokes, she’s writhing in no t
ime.

  I put a hand to the center of her chest, pushing her back until she’s sitting upright again. When I tweak a nipple, she jerks against me.

  Nodding down to where she sits on top of me, I tell her what to do. “Take me out, Willow. Ride me.”

  She digs her teeth into her lower lip, batting her eyelids slowly. Then she works to open my belt, then undo my button and zipper. I’m free and in her hands in no time.

  Then she’s rising to her knees, tugging the crotch of her panties to the side, and then… fucking yes… lowering herself onto me.

  I hiss in response because every single time I’m inside of her, I lose myself to the pleasure. It’s so overwhelming that I don’t think I’ll ever recover the pieces she takes.

  I’m okay with that. I trust her to keep them secure, just as I’ll keep the pieces she gives to me safe.

  CHAPTER 23

  Willow

  I’m not sure I can take much more of this pressure. I’ve had Dominik’s hand in a death grip for the past five or so minutes as the time ticks down on the clock.

  It’s the third period of the seventh and final game of the conference finals. The score is tied 1-1, and no one wants this to go into overtime.

  As such, both teams are playing in a frenzy. Adrenaline is driving them faster, harder, meaner.

  Dominik didn’t extend invitations to any business associates, peers, or celebrities for this game. Instead, he invited the spouses or significant others to join him in the box.

  Not all took him up on the offer as many had family members attending the game who wanted to sit together. But many did and the box is crowded.

  My posse of girls is complete as they all opted for the owner’s box. Blue even brought Billy tonight and his wheelchair is parked right behind the last row of seats, his sister at his side holding his hand.

  My parents and Meredith and her husband are here as well. They’re in the last row of seats in front of where Dominik and I stand.