Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (28 page)

"So, Carter. I saw you out
there with Silver." Demyan's voice cut over the lingering chatter
from the other men. "Looked like you two were getting pretty close.
You next in line?"

Carter cocked his head. "You hit
a dry spell, man? Need to hear about my sex life to get off?"

"Ah, I was right. You are
going to fuck her." Demyan folded his arms over his bare chest and
propped himself against the lockers. "She's not picky, is she?
Can't wait to show her what a real man feels like."

"Oh yeah?" Carter stood.
"Well, think what you want, but I'd make other plans if I were you.
The girl's got standards and you are so below."

Demyan
laughed. "You think so? Kid, let's clear something up. She
didn't bring me here because she thought I'd be good for the team.
She took one look at me and creamed her panties. Makes me feel a
little cheap, but I'm sure being ball deep in that hot cunt will
help me get over it."

Landon didn't recall
standing. Or moving. The next thing that reached him was the crunch
of bone under his fist. A spray of blood. And the feral
satisfaction of feeling a fist hit his jaw before Demyan's body
dented the locker behind him.

"You broke my nose, you
fucker!" Demyan threw all his weight into his forward lunge. "I'm
going to put you in rehab."

A blocked punch. A swift elbow
to the ribs. Hands tugging at him. Blood blurring his vision.

"Talk about her like that again
and I'll fucking bury you." Landon struggled against the arm locked
around his throat. "You're dirt! You're fucking scum! If you ever
touch her—"

"I'll touch her all
right!" Demyan spat on the floor and twisted to free himself from
Carter and the back-up goalie, Ingerslov. "I'll fuck the bitch so
good she'll scream my name whenever she lets you fuck her. You
pathetic. Crushing on that little whore."

"Let me go!" Landon
thrashed, stopping himself inches from driving his elbow into
Perron's gut. He didn't want to hurt Perron. The man was decent.
But when he got his hands on Demyan—"He's dead! He's fucking
dead!"

"Get him out of here!"
Perron grunted as Landon slammed him into the lockers.
"Now!"

It took Perron and two
other men to restrain Landon as Carter and Ingerslov dragged Demyan
out. Landon growled and wrenched away from them for a split second
before Perron punched him in the face.

Black and red spotted Landon's
vision as he slumped onto the bench. His head rang.

Silver. Keep
Demyan
away from
Silver.
He lurched to his
feet.

Perron
shoved him back down. "Get a grip!"

"That bastard doesn't get to
talk about her like that!" Landon panted, his lung searing worse
than they had during the game. "He doesn't get to touch her!"

"Listen to me." Perron
crouched in front of him. "I'll talk to Oriana. Tell her what Scott
said. I get it, he's an asshole and she doesn't need him messing
with her. But this won't help anything."

Landon groaned and hung
his head. Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell was wrong with him?
Perron was right. This wouldn't change anything. But neither would
getting Oriana involved. "Silver won't listen."

"Then she's going to get
hurt." Perron slapped his shoulder and shook his head. "It sucks, I
know, but all you can do is be there for her. Oriana said you two
are just friends. Is that true?"

"Yeah." Landon stared at his
bloody fist and nodded. "Just friends."

Just fucking friends.

"No, don't come pick me up. I'll
see you there." Silver carefully applied another coat of lipstain.
No chance of smearing it when she started doing naughty things.
"Speaking of which, there's something I should tell you."

"Yes?" Dean sounded much, much
too calm over the phone. Kinda made her nervous. "What is it?"

"Tonight I'm . . .
."
Find the right words.
Damn, there are no right words!
"I'm not
going as your sub. I can't—not yet. We've had fun, but if I'm going
to explore my . . . submissive side, if I even have one, I have to
do it my way."

"I see." He went silence for
exactly five seconds. "Which means what? Just so we're clear."

She bit her lip. Stupid. Now
she'd have to put on another coat. "Which means if I get involved
in a scene, you don't interfere. That's how it works at your club,
right?"

"In other words, this . .
.
scene,
won't be with me."

Well, at least
I don't have to spell it out.
"No. It
won't be. And I know you won't like it—"

"Why should I care?"

Ouch!
She frowned at her reflection. "I'm not saying
you should. I just wanted to be up front with you. This whole
lifestyle may work for me. I doubt it, but hey, you gave me a good
time. Maybe someone else can. Someone who won't ask me to kneel and
lick their feet."

"When have I
ever
asked
you to do that?"

"You're too intense, all right!
I want the dummy 101 version, not the advanced."

"Well, I'm sure that won't
be too hard to find." He let out a harsh laugh. "It is my club, so
if you change your mind, I'll be around."

"Sure, but . . . ." She had to
speak fast. She had a feeling he was going to hang up on her. "This
changes nothing at work, okay? We'll still be cool?"

"Of course."

Dial tone. Wonderful. Her
excitement about the night dimmed like a half dead light bulb. Her
body was still raring to go, but her head was doing that 'what if?'
thing. Stupid brain. This didn't need to be all complicated. She
owed Dean
nothing.
Absolutely nothing.

So why did it feel like she was
planning to cheat on him?

Single lady? Got it? Get it?
Good!

Dean didn't own her. No one
owned her.

Wondering around her apartment,
she froze beside the empty room and closed her eyes. Asher and
Cedric had moved out. No big fuss, they'd just packed their things
while she was gone and left a note. Or, well, Asher left a note.
Cedric wouldn't. Over the last year, she'd imagined a connection,
but it was gone like thin smoke in the wind. As make believe as
their entire relationship.

Asher
wanted to keep in touch, but the bastard probably just
wanted his job back. Dean could handle the position of GM and
president as he had for years, but the team still needed a
lawyer.

Tonight, none of that
mattered. This wasn't about work, this was about getting off.
Something she could probably do alone with one of many toys, but
last weekend, and all her time with Dean, haunted her. Maybe she
had some freaky needs. Some she'd never considered. Except once.
But back then she'd panicked. Tonight she wouldn't because Carter
wasn't . . .
uber.
He was just a man who got kink. Like she got
kink. Who could give her kink.

Sounded good anyway.

She checked herself out
one last time in the hall mirror. Strappy black
fuck-me-shoes—
eat your heart
out Sloan, chew real good
—and a pink
checkered dress with the sides cut out that fit like a glove. She
was a cover model for wet-dreams-r-us and a man would have to be
dead to resist her.

Carter wouldn't be able
to. But she couldn't keep his face fixed in her head as she
pictured a man stripping her of her expensive dress, pulling down
her thong, bending her over . . . .

Dean's face came first. Then
Landon's.

Too much. Her brain needed to go
on vacation. Time to let her libido take charge. For tonight she
was a wet pussy in high heels.

And nothing else.

Less than fifteen minutes
later, she parked in front of the club, then sauntered out, all
smiles for the invisible cameras. The bouncer recognized her and
let her in without a second glance. She'd seen him flirting with
the men behind the red-ropped barrier, so she didn't take
offense.
He
didn't need to notice her.

A strangled scream stopped her
in her track.

Fuck. I hope Oriana's not
here!

She surveyed the crowded room
and found the screamer. Not her sister. Just a woman riding a
contraption with a dildo sticking out of it while a man yanked on a
chain attached to her nipples and a woman pressed a vibrating rod
against her clit.

Silver's thighs clenched and her
nipples twinged. She concentrated on the music, wild wailing
guitars and a heart pumping drumbeat, and wandered deeper into the
main room. The sounds around her became part of the music. She kept
her gaze locked on the bar, avoided looking left or right,
pretending this was just another bar and nothing scary was
happening in the shadows.

"I've got a spot ready for us."
A hot breath stirred her hair and she jumped as though the air
contained an electric charge. Carter chuckled. "Need a minute?"

She tilted her head back and
smiled at him. "Not at all. Do you?"

"No." He took her hand and let
her to an empty station at the back of the room. Nothing special,
just an ottoman with chains. Occupied by two women and another
man.

"Chicklet, I can't." The
other man, who looked like a cherub with his golden curls, someone
she thought she recognized, but wasn't sure, knelt and pressed his
forehead against a very tall woman's thighs. "I'm sorry, it's just
too weird."

"It's okay, Tyler. But
Laura needs a top. Can you handle her for tonight?" The big woman,
Chicklet, petted the head of the cherub and drew the other woman to
her feet. "She deserves a reward."

Tyler gazed up at Chicklet with
nothing short of worship. "She'd rather get it from you. And so
would I."

Laura's lips parted. Then
snapped shut. She glanced over at Silver and her cheeks
reddened.

"
Eyes down, Laura." Chicklet smiled when the petite woman
dropped her gaze to her bare toes, then brought her attention back
to the young man on his knees. "I know you both enjoy spending time
with me, but you need some bonding time, and I promised I'd help
Carter out. I'm one of the few experienced Dommes and the boss man
has decided I know enough to train him."

"Tell Callahan to do it."

"Callahan is busy. And I always
work with Carter. You know that."

"Yes, but with
her
?"

Chicklet frowned. "You're
pushing it. I don't have to explain myself to you. You wanted to
step it up. Have you changed your mind?"

"No!" Tyler shook his head and
bowed down low, kissing his mistresses' booted feet. "I'm sorry. I
need . . . I don't know. But I haven't changed my mind."

"Then go." Chicklet pursed
her lips as he shot to his feet and ambled away with Laura a step
behind. Then she ran her hands over her leather clad hips and faced
Silver. "Sorry about that. I'm Chicklet. But you should call me,
Ma'am. Dean is big on protocol."

"Got it." Silver moved to shake
the woman's hand, but thought better of it and let her arms hang at
her sides. "So what do I do?"

"You've asked Carter to top you,
so I suggest you kneel and wait for him to take over." Chicklet
arched a brow at Carter. "Any time now."

Carter ducked his head and
grabbed some ropes from beside the ottoman. "Yeah. I figured we'd
start with that corseted thing you taught me, but we haven't had a
chance to negotiate."

"Then maybe you should."
Chicklet stared Silver down until she recalled the
suggestion
and dropped to her knees. "Forget I'm here. Do you know the
club safeword?"

"Red," Silver looked from
Chicklet to Carter. This was so wrong. Not at all what she'd
expected, but . . . maybe it would get better once they
'negotiated'. "I guess I need to tell you what I want?"

"Tell me what you need," Carter
said, looking to Chicklet for approval.

Chicklet groaned. "This is
starting off well."

Silver ignored her. "I . . . I
don't understand how I reacted to being spanked. It hurt, but . . .
I liked it. I want you to . . . ."

"She wants you to hurt her."
Chicklet smirked. "You're pretty good with a flogger. Wrap her up
and have some fun."

"Fun?" Carter grinned as he
unwound the rope. "Not a problem. But I need something first,
pet."

Silver wanted to laugh.
The whole scene seemed like one ridiculous parody. Like something
she might do in one of her worst films. "What?"

Carter's expression changed. His
eyes narrowed as he loomed over her. "Strip."

"Already?" She snapped her
lips shut at his frown and rolled her eyes. Pushing him was no fun.
Not that pushing Dean was
fun,
but something about him made
her want to test her limits. With Carter she felt like either she
had to play along or they'd get nowhere. She stood gracefully and
shed her clothes, much the same way she would before a photo shoot
or a scene in a movie. It was part of the job. Might as well get it
over with.

As he circled her, she did her
best to stand up straight and hold in a weary sigh. They had a few
gawkers, two naked men wearing harnesses and two Dommes standing
behind them, leashes in hand.

From behind her, Carter moved
close enough for the crease in his dress pants to brush her calves.
He whispered. "What are your limits?"