Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) (6 page)

Things were about to get nasty.

"I won't say it!"

Landon approached the throne, careful to
avoid notice. Richter had Silver on her feet, his arm around her
waist all that was keeping her at his side. Sloan Callahan had
returned and was staring at her in a cold, detached way that seemed
to steel her resolve.

"Pet, all this will be for nothing if you
won't say you're sorry." Richter rubbed his forehead, as though
trying to massage patience into his skull. "Whether you like it or
not, Master Sloan is one of the men your sister has chosen. Your
personal history with him is irrelevant. Can't you move beyond
that? For her?"

Silver dropped to her knees with a hard
thunk. She stared at the floor as she spoke. "I'm sorry if anything
I did ruined tonight for Oriana."

Richter dropped his head back and muttered
something to the ceiling before looking at Callahan. "Are you
satisfied?"

"Yeah." Callahan shook his head. "I didn't
come back for an apology anyway. Oriana asked me to tell Silver she
was fine. And I needed to—damn it, Silver, I would never hurt her.
I love your sister and—"

Head bowed, slender shoulder's stiff, Silver
muttered. "You
did
hurt her. And I'm sure you will
again."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Callahan
scowled. "I've wasted more than enough time on this. She's your
problem now, Richter. I'm going to take off and enjoy Max's
honeymoon."

Every word out of Callahan's mouth seemed to
have more impact that anything Richter had done. Landon saw the
glisten of tears on her cheeks and had to fight the urge to go
after Callahan. Not that the man was in the wrong, but damn it, she
had her pride! What more did he want from her?

"Up we go, pet," Richter said.

Silver's eyes flashed as she shot to her
feet. "Don't touch me!"

"It's over, sweetheart." Richter stroked her
side, his jaw working when she jerked away from him and braced her
hands on the throne. "Come sit with me for a bit. I know it was
hard, but you did very well."

"I didn't have a choice, did I?"

"You didn't have to stay." Richter reached
for her again, his hands hovering over her as she evaded him yet
again. "You're a very strong woman, Silver. Come on, there's a good
girl."

She let him touch her, let him pull her into
his arms, surrendering for less than a heartbeat before she twisted
away and lashed out. "No! I mean it, Dean! You've had your fun now
leave me alone!"

Her lunge forward came as a surprise, but
Landon still caught her before she fell. Tucking her against his
side, he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and whispered
"Whoa there. Give yourself a second to get your bearings, mignonne.
We get it. You're tough. That was still a rough scene and your body
needs some time to recover."

Richter's hard gaze locked with Landon's as
Silver sobbed and pressed against him. He obviously didn't want to
let her go, but the Dom in Richter understood he couldn't help her,
not now when she still blamed him for whatever chaotic emotions
tore through her.

Her bottom lip trembled. "I don't know
you."

"Sure you do. You just signed off on a pretty
decent contract for me to play for the Dartmouth Cobras as a
starting goaltender." He drew her to a dark corner of the club,
away from the lingering crowd, to a little nook behind a wood
partition with a comfy sofa that offered some privacy. "Let's say I
owe you."

"Sure." She sat up straight and eyed him as
she took the uncapped bottle he offered. "But I don't get it. Are
you a Dom?"

"Yes." He smoothed her sweat-slicked hair
away from her face. "Why? Is that a bad thing?"

She frowned. "No. It's just . . . I was
bad.
Don't you guys look for the girls that want to lick
your feet?"

"Right now—no offense—I'm not looking for
submission from you." He grinned and leaned close as though they
were sharing a secret. "Aftercare is part of my job. I've helped
plenty of clueless husbands with it after a scene. He says or does
the wrong thing and the wife is ready to walk out, but if I play
with a woman, even if it's not sexual, I won't risk her dropping
after and feeling bad about whatever happened."

"You had nothing to do with this . . .
scene."

"Yes, but you plan to come back here, right?"
He waited for her nod and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Good. So do I. And I'd hate to think that what happened tonight
scared you away."

"I don't scare that easy." She shifted,
wincing as her hip pressed against his. But she relaxed against
him, not resisting as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Such
a tiny thing, quivering, smelling sweet as the little flowers
decorating the place, with the voice of an angel spitting venom.
"So what is it? You figure if you're nice I'll let you fuck
me?"

Christ.
Just holding her had him hard
as fucking stone, but those words caused all the blood to retreat
from his dick and rise up to pound in his skull. She really didn't
see anyone wanting her for anything else, did she?

Much as he hated lying, he couldn't stop
himself from reassuring her. It wasn't really a lie if it was
partially true, right? "I try to do a good deed a day. Would it
hurt your feelings if I tell you I have no intention of sleeping
with you?"

Her muscles hardened under his arm. Then went
slack. She laid her head on his shoulder and let out a heavy sigh
before taking a sip of water. "Oddly enough, no. It's not
insulting. You really do this with women you don't have sex
with?"

"Yes." He pressed his eyes shut and rested
his cheek on her soft, tussled hair. "You ever snuggled with a
straight man that didn't want to fuck you?"

"Honestly? No." She snuggled a little closer.
"So you're saying you don't want to fuck me?"

This time he could answer with the truth. "I
don't want to fuck you."

"Good." And with that she let herself go.
"That's a nice change."

Those words wouldn't have left her mouth if
she wasn't feeling so raw, so exposed, but he'd take it. He made
sure she drank the full bottle and held her arms when she tried to
stand. Her legs shook and she let out a weary laugh.

"It still hurts."

"It will—for awhile." He licked his bottom
lip and forced an easy smile. "The question is, what do you want
now? Should I call you a cab?"

"You probably should. But . . . ."

"But?"

She kept herself pressed against his side,
thankfully nowhere near the stiff erection that saluted her between
his thighs. Her focus was on Richter, at the bar tipping back a
shot. His eyes hadn't left them once. The man hadn't liked Landon
taking over aftercare, but, as a Dom should, he put the sub's needs
before his own.

"As a . . . friend—not that I should be
telling you this at all—"

"Tell me." He watched Richter stand and
approach the bartender before heading to a small corridor that led
to the private rooms upstairs. The ones he'd been told right away
were for Richter alone. "That way I'll know I haven't lost my
touch."

"I don't want it to be over. Not now." She
burrowed her face under his arm. "Not like this."

"You want him."

Lie to me, babe. I don't usually allow it,
but I will now.

But he'd gained her confidence, so she
replied with complete honesty as she stood. "I do. And I take what
I want."

"As you should. They say life is short." He
kept his eyes on her. Legs steady. Fully aware of her surroundings.
She knew what she was doing. "Go for it."

"I think I will." She spared him a carefree
smile. "Thank you for this. I was feeling . . . a little weak. You
made the ground solid again. I don't have the words to say it
better."

"You've said it just fine, pet." He wanted to
use a more personal endearment, but he had a feeling she needed
nothing more. From him anyway. "I'm glad I could help."

"You did." Her brow furrowed as she looked
around. "Damn, where's my purse? I want to leave you my number. I
don't usually, but I want to hang out some time. For coffee or
something."

"You left your purse with your clothes." He
pretended not to notice her blush. She'd forgotten that she was
wearing nothing but a blanket. "Tell me your number. I won't
forget."

She told him, then laughed. "This is stupid.
After the way I acted, he'll tell me where to go."

"I doubt that."
I wouldn't
"You'll
never know if you don't put yourself out there."

"True" She squared her shoulders "Maybe if I
show him how good I can be—"

"Be you." Landon pushed his own feelings
aside and gave her the best advice her could, all the while wishing
he was in Richter's place. "He won't say no."

"I hope you're right."

"I am."

"Okay." She took a step, then paused. "See
you . . . soon?"

"Of course." He forced a smile. "I'll give
you a shout tomorrow."

"That would be great. I need a friend
here."

He watched her slide up the shadowy stairwell
and nodded to himself.
You've got one, sweetheart.

By the time Silver reached the top step, her
nerves had taken a hike. She combed her fingers through her hair,
fluffed it, and took a deep breath. A butt clench brought back the
sharp pain from the spanking and the mess of emotions that had come
with it. Rage, mortification, disgust—mostly in herself. For a
split second, her mind had gone to a place where she actually
wanted Dean to punish her, where she felt like she deserved it.

They do say crack kills brain cells.
She smirked, rubbing the tiny vial in her purse through the fabric,
and tightened her grip on the pale blue, fleece blanket Landon had
wrapped around her. Really, it was no wonder that she'd gotten all
confused down there—Dean was a hunky piece of manflesh. She liked
it rough sometimes and he could definitely scratch that particular
itch.

Before she could change her mind and consider
just how rough things might get, she lifted her fist and rapped
softly on the door.

"One minute!" Dean called.

A
bang!
followed by cursing, made her
wince.
Okay, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

The door flew open just as she was about to
retreat. "Wh—Silver?"

His gaze swept over her and instinct took
charge. She stepped forward and let the blanket fall.

He shook his head. "Silver—"

"I've taken all the humiliation I can stand
for one night, Dean." She flattened her hands on his chest,
fingering the buttons of his shirt and keeping her eyes downcast
because she knew he'd like that. "Don't make me beg."

Letting out a skin tingling chuckle, he
wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her against him. "As
if you would."

"If that's what I have to do for you to take
me . . . ."

"Take you . . . ." He ran his thumbs over the
soft curve of her stomach and sparks with wings skittered around
within. Her muscles jumped and he tilted his head slightly,
studying her. "Are you sure? The spanking shook you pretty bad. You
wouldn't even let me—"

She put a finger over his lips. "I'm still
pissed at you about that. Don't remind me. All you need to know is
I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Do you?" He drew her away from the door and
swung it closed. Then he pressed his eyes shut and gave his head a
little shake. "Damn woman, I hope that's true, because I'm in no
condition to be the sane one here."

A throaty laugh escaped her. She rose up on
her tiptoes and spoke with her lips close to his. "Are you
drunk?"

"Not quite." His eyelids lowered and his lips
curled. The hint of alcohol on his breath made her mouth water. He
flicked his tongue over her bottom lip. "But I've had enough to
accept your offer, even though I should make you get dressed and
send you home in a cab." His hot breath caressed her lips. "Even
though we'll both regret this tomorrow."

We will, won't we?
Doubt crawled into
her mind, but she squashed it like a gnat. She smiled, her mouth
just over his. "I wouldn't want you thinking I took advantage of
you. Call a cab if you want."

"Not likely." With that he claimed her mouth
with a fierce kiss that promised all she'd come for. She moaned as
his teeth tugged at her bottom lip. He clenched his fists in her
hair and his tongue delved deep into her mouth, thrusting,
possessing, driving her mad as the rest of her body screamed for
the same attention.

Together they stumbled into his living room.
He helped her remove his shirt without breaking his assault on her
mouth and then fell onto the sofa. She undid his pants, pulled out
his dick, and explored the hot, thick length with her hands while
he dug his fingers into her shoulder and practically dragged her
into his lap.

"You've had me fucking bursting at the seams
since the moment you walked into my club—before I even knew who you
were, I wanted you." He let his head fall back and groaned as she
fisted her hand around his cock and rubbed the head against her wet
folds. "And when you took everything I could give—"

"Not everything." She slid to her knees and
flicked her tongue over the tip of him, tasting her own musky
arousal mixed with his salty precum. "Not yet."

In one smooth, practiced motion, she had his
full length in her mouth, hitting the back of her throat as she
bobbed her head. His pulse pounded against her tongue and she
swallowed, sucking harder and harder until he grunted and jerked
her to her feet.

"Enough. I want more than your mouth." He
belied the comment by taking her mouth, stealing her breath and her
strength with a kiss that slammed the door on her illusions of
being in control. "I have condoms in my wallet."