GAME MISCONDUCT (The Dartmouth Cobras) (43 page)

“Etching? As in cutting?” She shuddered. “I’ll take the branding, thanks. Extreme heat kills nerves. I’d only feel it for a few seconds.”

“You will not ‘take the branding.’ The etching is just like a tattoo, without the ink. Picture a needle, piercing your skin a thousand times, the endless vibration buzzing right through you. A man from the club does it, so he’ll let me strap you down first.” He grazed his knuckles over her pert nipples. “Then I can toy with you, maybe even fuck you nice and slow so as not to disturb him. How does that sound?”

Her legs shifted, and the salad bowls rattled on the tray. She inhaled then gave him a glazed eye look that made him want to drag her away for the exotic scarring that very moment. Her dazzling smile etched poetic tripe all over his heart as she whispered. “Sounds just right for us.”

“Just right for us.” Damn straight.
The Cup would have been an awesome achievement, but this woman was worth more than any trophy he could share. There’d never come a season when he’d lose her. Because even though he couldn’t do it alone, he’d give her everything she needed.

And that was a fucking win in his books.

THE END

The Dartmouth Cobras

Copyright 2012, Bianca Sommerland

Sneak Peek

Dean rubbed his hands on his knees and sat up straight. Aside from the bride walking down the aisle in a dress that had several of the players adjusting themselves in their seats, the ceremony was as long and dull as he’d expected. It reminded him of an ex-girlfriend who’d been into soaps. She’d be sitting there, all teary-eyed, mumbling about how
finally
the current super-couple was getting their dream wedding. And he’d be forced to sit there, feigning interest while the priest went on and on for three episodes. Sappy personal vows would be exchanged, and the couple would rush out while the cast cheered and blew bubbles at them because rice was bad for the stupid birds.

Unless something interesting happened. Like the bride getting shot or someone in the crowd stood up and claimed to be having the groom’s baby.

No such luck. Not that he wanted Oriana to get shot, but the minister . . .

Hell, is he reading the extended version?

The wedding ended. The collaring began. A bit more to the point, but Dominik seemed determined to cover everything. He included Max and Sloan in the ceremony, having Sloan cuff Oriana while Max held her hair out of the way as she knelt and the collar was placed around her throat and locked.

“You belong to us, love,” Sloan said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Tonight you submit to our pleasure. Do you consent?”

Oriana’s cheeks glistened as she tipped her head back. “Yes. But—”

Dominik frowned. “But?”

Well, this just got interesting.
Dean leaned forward.

“I don’t want to wait for your mark, Sloan.” Oriana took a deep breath. “I want something tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Sloan laid his hands over her cheeks, using his thumb to swipe away her tears. “I’m happy to oblige, bunny, but I don’t want you to regret it tomorrow when you’re not all emotional. People will see it. We’re taking our honeymoon somewhere warm.”

“I don’t care—let them see.” Oriana closed her eyes and touched her collar. “I need you to be part of this.”

“I am.” Sloan straightened. “And I will be. Dominik and Max will chain you for me, babe. Is that okay?”

Oriana shuddered. “That’s perfect.”

The foursome moved to a playroom, and the crowd followed as one without being invited. Dean stood in the doorway and glanced over at his brother as he and his wife approached.

“Was my wedding this long?”

Tim made a face. “Your divorce was longer. I think the four of them will make it work, don’t you?”

Despite being bored out of his mind, Dean had to admit he could see the men really loved Oriana. And she loved them back without restraint. His wife had never been like that. She’d taken his ring and his collar, but she’d always held part of herself back. As soon as their daughter had grown up enough for her to gain some independence, his wife had decided she wanted the same. For years he’d told her to find her own interests, to be more than a stay-at-home mother—which she obviously hated being—and his sub. She’d insisted that was what she wanted, then suddenly decided she wanted none of it. She met a man who could give her a cozy, carefree life and ditched her daughter because, as she’d said, she’d never really wanted to be a mother. In front of their daughter.

Seeing the utterly crushed look on his daughter’s face, he’d hardened his heart and signed the divorce papers. But that hadn’t been enough. His wife wanted his money. He made more than her new man and she wanted alimony. He’d resisted at first, but the long court battles had taken their toll on his daughter and he’d finally given in. Let the bitch have the money. His daughter needed to know someone still wanted her.

He’d been blind when it came to his wife, but he didn’t think Oriana’s men had that problem with her. She was as open and honest as they came.

“They’ll work.” Dean adjusted his leathers. Damn, just thinking about the next part of the ceremony had him wanting to find a willing sub. “Not what I’d want, but I’ve never met a woman like Oriana. It’s hard to believe she’s Delgado’s kid.”

“Can’t argue that.” Tim pressed a light kiss on his wife’s brow. “But some of us get lucky and find the pick of the litter. My baby has a messed up family too, but she rose above it. You wouldn’t want to know her siblings or her parents. But coming from them made her the strong woman you can’t help but admire.”

This was true. Tim didn’t tell him much, but he’d done enough scenes with Tim’s wife, enough aftercare before Tim took her away for the sexual stuff, to have learned a bit.

For the past two years, he’d kept scenes nice and impersonal. Platonic with Tim’s wife, exploring a bit of pain, and purely sexual with the subs that came to the club not wanting a commitment. Maybe one day he’d find a woman he’d want more with, but he was happy with what he had now. He wasn’t ready for anything deeper. Granted, his daughter was eighteen and getting past the family drama, but she and the team were his focus. He didn’t need more.

Not yet.

Then again, he was open to the possibilities. The woman in pink, for example. He hadn’t seen her since he and Landon had watched her filling in the forms, but if she proved to be available as he thought she was . . .

Well, he might make an exception for her. A brief glimpse of what she had convinced him he could give her more. Even if only tonight.

* * * *

Silver swallowed convulsively, fighting not to jump every time Sloan’s whip hit her sister’s bare flesh. Her cheeks had reddened slightly when Oriana had been stripped, and she hadn’t wanted to look at first, but as each sharp
Crack!
got louder, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at the long, red welts on her sister’s back, butt, and thighs.

So far, so good. After all, Silver had been to plenty of BDSM and fetish clubs, she’d seen people whipped before. Of course, all the places she’d gone to had been more glamorous than Blades & Ice. The few men that had used a flogger or a paddle on her ass before fucking her knew better than to leave marks. She always had a list of limits a mile long when she played.

Looks like Oriana has a shorter list.
A mocking voice said as she watched Sloan pause and kneel to kiss an unmarked spot on Oriana’s hip. He stroked up her thigh and tipped his head back to say something only Oriana could hear.

Oriana nodded.

As Sloan straightened, a sick feeling of dread pooled in Silver’s gut. She dug her nails into her palm and glanced over at Asher—who was kissing Cedric and completely oblivious to everyone else in the room. A few other people were making out or . . . more. Apparently watching the scene had gotten a few people hot.

But these people didn’t know Oriana. Oriana always put other’s needs before her own. She would let Sloan push her further and further, never asking him to stop if she thought it was what he wanted. And Sloan was just the type of asshole to take advantage of her passive nature.

Oriana’s not stupid. Maybe this is what she wants.

Silver fumbled with her purse and took out a lollipop.

The whip snaked out over Sloan’s head, came down in a black blur, and curled around Oriana’s hip. Oriana gasped. A thin line of blood trickled.

Silver dropped the lollipop and rushed forward. “You son of a bitch!”

Sloan froze and stared at Silver. “What—”

Smack!
Her palm went numb and she watched her handprint on his face darken to a bright red with satisfaction. The crowd went silent.

“Get away from her!” When Sloan didn’t move, Silver snatched the whip from his hand and tossed it across the room. “She trusts you! How could you do that to her?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Silver—”

“Don’t ‘Silver’ me! You don’t fucking scare me, Sloan.” She strode up and poked him in the center of his bare chest. “The worst thing is, I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. But you’re the same arrogant bastard you’ve always been. I think we both know exactly why you enjoy beating on women, don’t we? Does Oriana know you’re an impotent freak? Is that why she needs Max and Dominik?”

The area around the handprint on Sloan’s face turned a darker shade of red. When he didn’t say anything, she looked over at Max, who was standing in front of Oriana, speaking softly, and Dominik, who was watching the crowd expectantly.

“Dominik, are you seriously going to put up with him treating her like this?”

The big black man ignored her.

Rage bubbled up inside and she moved to get his attention.

Suddenly, Sloan’s hand shot out. He hooked a finger to her collar. “Who are you here with?”

“Excuse me?” She pried at his fingers in an effort to get free, but his hand seemed like one solid piece of iron. “Why does it matter?”

“Subs in this club don’t disrespect Doms and get away with it.” He jerked her collar. “Don’t. Move.”

All the blood left her face. She went still.

“Where’s your Master?”

“He’s there.” She pointed at Asher, pleading with her eyes for him to come get her away from Sloan.
Fuck not being scared. This guy’s crazy!

Asher’s eyes went big and round. He shook his head. “Look, man. We’re not like . . . I can’t . . . damn, she was just worried about her sister. Give her a break.”

“Are you refusing to punish her?” Sloan threw his head back and laughed at Asher’s nod. “Why am I not surprised? You treat BDSM like you do everything else, Silver? Like it’s one big fucking game? Was coming here as a sub just your idea of playing dress up?”

“You better watch it Sloan,” Silver said, doing her best to sound brave and strong even though, for the first time in her life, she was the center of attention and really just wanted to disappear. Everyone was staring at her like
she’d
done something wrong. “I’m your boss.”

“And I give a shit?” Sloan caught someone’s eye, and Silver tried to twist her head to see who. “You dealing with this or are we just kicking her out?”

“That’s entirely up to her.” The man’s voice was deep, just gruff enough to be sexy, but it was the edge, the way he spoke, as though obedience was a given, that made goose bumps rise all over her flesh. “I’ll give you a choice, Silver. Sloan, you can let her go.”

As soon as she was released, Silver shuffled away from Sloan, careful not to get too close to—
shitshitshit
—Dean Richter. Even over the phone, the man intimidated her, but it had been easy to come off as unimpressed without his sharp, hazel eyes locked on her, seeing everything she tried to hide.

“Are you listening to me?”

Silver evaded his steady gaze and tried to see around him. “Oriana?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder. “She’s fine. Perron, Mason, would you please take Oriana to another room to come down?” He smiled. “It looks like she managed to stay in a good place.”

Neither Max nor Dominik said anything, but moments later, a door at the other side of the room opened and closed.

“I want to go with them.” Silver hiked her chin up and finally managed to look Dean in the eye. Her pulse quickened. “Please. Just let me see if she’s all right.”

“So polite now.” Dean circled her slowly, close enough that his leather pants brushed her thighs and his breath stirred her hair. “You’re used to getting your own way, aren’t you, Silver?”

As if that’s a bad thing?
“You said you were giving me a choice.”

“I am.” Dean stopped at her side. “Your choices are leave my club and don’t ever come back, or accept whatever punishment I choose to give you.”

“Punishment for what?”

“You’re dating two lawyers and you don’t know better than to sign something without reading it?” One brow arched, tone light, he seemed to be laughing at her.

A few people in the crowd did.

Deep, deep breaths and an eyeroll kept the tears back. “I wasn’t planning to do a scene tonight; I didn’t think it was all that important.”

“What you signed applies to every time you come here.”

“Then I won’t come back.”

“Very well.” He stepped aside. “You may leave.”

For some reason, everything inside her rebelled against the very idea of walking out. And she couldn’t quite figure out why.

Oriana. You’re just worried about Oriana.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see my sister.” She put her hands on her hips. “Things will be very unpleasant at work if you won’t be reasonable.”

“Don’t threaten me, Silver.”

“You should call me Miss Delgado.”

Dean let out a gruff laugh. “I don’t think so, pet. But while you’re still here, I suggest you refer to me as either Master or Sir.”

“Why should I?” She sniffed and gave him a swift, detached once-over. “Like Sloan said, I’m not a real sub.”

“Aren’t you?” He took a step forward and she took two quick steps back. He closed the distance between them and put his finger under her chin before she could move again. “Stop.”