Offside

by Bianca Sommerland

It didn’t matter. He did, and she was happy to give it.

  “Fuck, Mason. I know it hurts, but what you had with Oriana was exactly this. You prepared her to be with Sloan and Max. The only thing I’m worried about at this point is whether or not you’ll be prepared to let her go when the time comes.”

  He winced. That wasn’t how he’d seen his relationship with Oriana. He’d seen a future between the four of them. He hadn’t expected it to be easy, but he’d been prepared to see it through. He’d never loved another woman as much as he loved her.

  “I don’t want to talk about Oriana. How would you handle this? I can let her go; that’s not the problem.” He strode up to his bed, sitting heavily and rubbing his temples with the phone propped up to his ear with his shoulder. “What do I do if she gets attached? She’s trusting me to help her through this. I won’t be helping her if she settles on me.”

  “She won’t. From what you’ve told me, she knows what she’s getting into. Be her mentor. Use this as a way to get past what you’re going through. Keep an eye out for the man she needs and be happy for her once she finds him.”

  “I will be, but I’m still not sure how far I should take this. She’s so fragile . . . I know what she wants. I’m just not sure she’s ready.”

  “Bullshit. You know what she’s ready for. What you went through with Oriana is just so fresh, you’re worried that doing anything will be a betrayal. It’s not. I can tell you for a fact that both Max and Sloan are doing everything they can to help her get over you.” She paused. “And I told them both that’s exactly what they have to do. You’ve made a clean break. All that’s left is to let it heal.”

  His throat locked. He shouldn’t be all that surprised that Sloan and Max had spoken to her. The way she managed her two subs was something to be emulated. “How is she?”

  “She’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Chicklet made a sharp sound, hissing through her teeth. “Fuck, this whole situation with Oriana sucks. I wish I’d seen it coming so I could have warned you. But I’m happy you’re talking to me. Because I’m going to do everything I can to get you through this. And finding a new project is a good start.”

  “A new project.” He snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “You need someone to need you, Mason. Even when you were with Oriana, you still did training scenes at the club. Consider this more of the same.” Her tone took on a playful lilt. “Only more ‘hands on.’”

  He laughed, but he liked the idea. Subs came to the club all the time, single women who wanted a taste of submission, but couldn’t find anyone they trusted enough to give it to them. Ramos had handled them before taking on Jami and Carter, but now he had his hands full. Richter was training a few of the younger players who showed an interest in the lifestyle, but none of the rookies had the experience to take charge of vulnerable subs. He did.

  Akira would need more attention than most. It would be a challenge to get her past the damage done to her, physically and emotionally. He wasn’t sure he could trust anyone else to do it properly.

  “You good?” Chicklet asked, his silence obviously concerning her.

  He nodded slowly. “I am. And thank you. I thought coming on this cruise would be a good distraction, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe doing this for her will be.”

  After he hung up, he looked around the room, much more comfortable with the setup than he’d been before. One of the most important things he needed to teach Akira was how a Dom should treat her. Granted, scenes at the club wouldn’t always be preceded by romantic diners, but they should always be planned with her needs in mind.

  Taking a deep breath, he dragged a charcoal grey armchair across the room, pausing when the scent of heated spices rose from the fondue pot and sent a sharp pang straight into his gut. He’d had a fondue night with Oriana once. She’d stripped the second she’d crossed the threshold, fingering her collar with a small smile on lips glossed with his favorite peach-flavored balm. She’d whispered “Master” before lowering to her knees. She’d stayed in that position while he’d fed her every bite, licking the juices from his fingers and staring up at him with pure worship in her eyes.

  But she hadn’t looked at him that way for a very long time.

  A soft tap at the door had him setting the memories aside. He focused on what Chicklet had said.

  “She needs you.”

  Oriana didn’t. Not anymore. But Chicklet was right. He needed someone who did.

  Lowering into the armchair, he rested his ankle on his knee, smoothing down the lapels of the black suit he’d kept on after the last photo shoot. He’d never scened with Oriana wearing anything but jeans or leather, and every detail that made what he was doing now different gave him strength. Put him in the mind-set required to train a new sub. He became hyperaware of his surroundings. He’d be just as aware of the slightest cue from her.

  “Come in, Akira.” A half-smile crossed his lips as he spoke, his tone level, giving her no way to anticipate what she was getting into. A little uncertainty would be good for her. He kept the smile in place as she stepped into the room, but his tone hardened slightly as he checked his watch. “You’re late.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Akira’s mouth went dry as she stared at Dominik, sitting in the large chair like it was a throne for a king, not quite relaxed, but at ease in a way that made her a little nervous. She wasn’t so much afraid of him as she was wondering how she could please him. How she could make up for losing track of the time while chatting with Jami on the phone, all gushy about the opportunity to be with one of the Cobras. One that she’d admired for years, who she loved watching on the ice. She’d never been all fangirly about him—actually, the man she’d crushed on had been Max—but she had idolized him. And seeing him as a Dom was more than a little intimidating.

  Seeing him as her Dom stole her ability to speak.

  “Relax, pet. I’m not angry.” He pushed off the chair and came toward her, shaking his head when she opened her mouth. “Don’t talk. Just let me look at you for a moment.”

  Pressing her lips together, she shivered under his slow scrutiny as he circled her, resisting the urge to fidget with the pale blue silk scarf Jami had given her to go with her simple, cap-sleeved white dress. She doubted Dominik would mistake the reason for the scarf.

  He smiled, fingering the scarf as he stopped by her side. “Very pretty. Jami’s?”

  She swallowed, nodding quickly.

  “Presumptuous brat.” He didn’t clarify, so she wasn’t sure if he meant her or Jami. Instead, he removed the scarf and stepped back to let it flutter to the armchair he’d been sitting in. “I suppose you’ve been discussing what you’re ready for with her?” His brow rose when she nodded again. “I expect you to vocalize answers, pet. Do you really consider yourself ready for bondage after your reaction to it at the club?”

  Her cheeks heated, and she stared at his shiny black shoes as she spoke. “I wasn’t ready for it with Shawn. Not even that little taste. But with you . . .” She took a deep breath as he tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. “I think it would be okay with you.”

  “Good girl.” His eyes warmed, and she felt that warmth straight down to her core. But she wasn’t sure what she’d done right until he spoke again. “I’m glad you said ‘you think’ it would be okay. I don’t want you putting too much pressure on yourself. Neither of us knows for sure how you will react to restraints—or anything else, for that matter. A bad reaction isn’t a reason to give up. It simply means we’ll need to try a different approach.” He held out his arm toward the table set up with fondue that already smelled mouthwatering. “We’ll discuss it while we eat.”

  She hadn’t been sure how much submission he’d expect for their first time—would she been kneeling at his feet to eat? He didn’t leave her wondering long. Drawing her close to the table with a loose grip on her wrist, he pulled out a chair, waited until she sat, then settled into the chair across the table. He motioned for he
r to get started, putting a few pieces of meat and vegetables in to cook without another word. She did the same, then occupied herself by unwrapping her cutlery from the crisp white napkin, setting the napkin on her lap, straightening her fork, knife, and spoon, smoothing the wrinkles from her napkin—

  “Don’t fidget, Akira.” His lips twitched when she froze. “You’re worrying about what I expect from you, aren’t you? I haven’t given you any instructions, haven’t done any of the things Masters do in the books you read, and you’re not sure what to make of it. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

  “You’re not.” She blinked at his expectant look, then ducked her head. Too obvious. “I’m sorry, Sir. You’re not wrong, Sir. I’m not sure if there’s something I should be doing.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.” He winked at her, folding his forearms on the table. “All I want from you now is complete honesty. We’ll have a little chat while we eat, okay?”

  A chat? She inhaled, holding it in as she prepared for what would no doubt be some hard questions. He’d probably need to know all about what had happened to her. And verbally ripping open all those old scars wouldn’t leave her much in the mood for any kind of scene. But maybe he didn’t intend to have a scene with her tonight.

  Which would really suck. Maybe she’d gotten all worked up for nothing. She bit back a sigh. “I’m ready.”

  “I can see that.” He chuckled. “When did you have your last orgasm, pet?”

  Her eyes widened. “My last—but I haven’t . . .” She wet her lips, sure her cheeks must be glowing neon red. She dropped her gaze to the table, then snapped it back up when he cleared his throat.

  “Eyes on me when you answer my questions. You were saying?”

  “Never.” She had to fight the temptation to look away as she considered how close she’d come while reading. Having an orgasm seemed so easy in all those books, and she’d been aroused, but for some reason she could only reach the brink before her blood ran cold and imagining one of those fantasy Doms touching her brought back horrible flashes of her rape. Her jaw hardened. She wouldn’t let that happen with Dominik. “I’ve never had an orgasm.”

  “Your mind was going a mile a minute while you thought about your answer, wasn’t it?” He reached across the table and took her hand, turning it to stroke over the pulse on her wrist with his thumb. “Do you know what stopped you?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes teared, and she pushed her chair away from the table. Fuck, this isn’t going to work. But she needed to tell him—even if he’d be disgusted with her after. “I almost . . . when those men . . . there was a moment when it stopped hurting. I think the man knew I was going to—he pulled out and slapped me. Called me a whore.” She choked back a sob. “I believed him and it didn’t happen again when the other man got on top of me. He tried though. He touched me and went slow, laughing at me, telling me he knew how much I wanted it.” Wrapping her arms around her ribs, she tipped her head back, blinking fast. “I believed him. I must have done something to make them think—”

  “Oh, baby.” Dominik came to her, kneeling in front of her and pulling her into his arms. “You know that’s not true. How your body reacted had nothing to do with you wanting what they did to you. I would cut those guys’ balls off if I ever met them.”

  She let out a watery giggle as her tears soaked the shoulder of his suit jacket. “I can so see you doing that.”

  He held her a bit longer, then eased her back and kissed her cheek, close to the edges of her lips. “I didn’t want to bring out bad memories tonight, but it was inevitable. This is something that we can deal with together. You’ve had therapy, yes?”

  She sniffled, whispering “thank you” when he passed her a napkin to wipe her nose. “I did, but sometimes I wonder if it really helped. There were some things I couldn’t tell the therapist about.”

  “Like?”

  “Like the books I read.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists. “It helps talking to Jami though. And you.”

  “Good. That’s a very good start.” He helped her move her chair back to the table. “But there are things I can help you with that Jami can’t. Starting with all that guilt.” He went to his chair and pulled his meat and veggies out of the fondue pot—probably overdone by now. He watched her as she placed her cooked food on her plate. “Tell me one thing now, Akira. Do you want to do a scene with me tonight, or would you rather spend some time getting to know one another better?”

  A grin stole to her lips before she could stop it. If he was giving her a choice, the answer was obvious. “I’m not sure, Sir. I’d be okay being your shoulder if you want to talk about Oriana, but otherwise—”

  “None of that.” His eyes took on a far-off look for a split second, his smile fading. But it returned before she had a chance to be concerned. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight mostly because there are things I can do to you that won’t leave much room to dwell on the past. For either of us.”

  “I like that idea.”

  “All right then.” He put a few more fondue forks in the pot, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Eat up. You’ll need your energy.”

  * * * *

  A soft, warm breeze rose up from the ocean as Zach strolled across the deck. Fairy lights hung from the riggings, lighting up the night for the small crowd. His lips curved slightly as he watched Scott and Carter playing a shuffleboard-inspired drinking game, both laughing in a way that made it obvious they’d been going at it for a while. Across the wide open space at the front of the ship, loud music boomed and the Ice Girls danced provocatively for the cameras. Several players watched them from lounge chairs, chatting over beers and shaking their heads when the girls called for them to join the fun. Most of his teammates had been in the gym with him on and off throughout the day, doing what they could to keep in shape, knowing there wasn’t much time left before training camp. None of them wanted to go home and be accused of slacking off by the men who hadn’t come on the cruise. Zach had stayed a little longer than the others, because keeping in shape wasn’t his only reason for pushing his body to the limit.

  He needed the burn of his muscles, the focus of doing each circuit perfectly, to distract him from how badly he wanted to drag Scott back to their room. His control had to be as finely tuned as his form to handle the other man. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Scott he didn’t want him as a sub, but he had to test Scott’s restraint before he let him anywhere near Becky.

  Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall, pleased to see Scott wasn’t eyeing the Ice Girls, or Carter, in his usual assessing way. So far, it seemed like he was following Zach’s instructions. Having fun. Within reason.

  “One sec, man. Gotta take this!” Carter shouted, pulling his phone from the pocket of his cargo shorts. He moved over to the railing, speaking loud to be heard over the music. “Hey, Seb! Fuck, I wish you were here. I swear I’ve gone blind from the cameras flashing. What? Yes, Sir! Being a goddamn saint!” Carter’s laughter cut short. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “Sorry, Sir. Not being sarcastic. I’m chilling with Demyan—we’re playing shuffleboard. He fucking sucks!” A blotchy red blush spread across his cheeks. “No way! Don’t care how drunk I am, I wouldn’t . . . umm, maybe a little tipsy? But still.” He nodded and spoke quietly. His features softened and his voice rose again. “Hey, boo! You taking care of my dog? He did what? Aww!” He grinned. “That’s my boy. Give Bear a cookie for me and tell him Daddy misses him. ‘Course I miss you too.” He cocked his head, looked around, then frowned. “I don’t see her. Yeah, I’ll have her call you.”

  After Carter hung up, Scott went to him and handed him a beer. He nodded, sympathy in his eyes as Carter rested his arms on the railing, probably telling Scott how much he missed Jami and Ramos. For some reason, seeing Scott with Carter, being a good friend, made Zach smile. Scott was a decent person when he wasn’t cheapening everything he did with sex.

  But it seemed like a bad habit. Something Scott went back to
when he wasn’t sure how to deal with a situation. Almost like it took an effort to avoid turning every relationship into a pure, carnal release.

  Why though? The Dom in Zach couldn’t help but feel this was something he could fix. Even if he and Scott never went past friendship, he wanted to know what had happened to Scott to make him consider sex an answer to everything. Zach knew Carter had once had issues with relationships. As a young player, he’d been with too many women who wanted him for either money or just to put a notch on their lipstick case. To say they’d “done” a pro athlete. The scars on his face made him even more insecure about why anyone would want him. But Ramos had gotten him past that—so had Jami.

  Scott had no scars. No obvious ones anyway. And yet . . . the ones beneath the skin could be the most damaging.

  The DJ playing music for the dancing Ice Girls lowered the volume as Sahara called out for their attention. Smiling, she wiped sweat from her brow and drained her beer. “All right, ladies! We’ve got an early start tomorrow going through our routines. Time to turn in!”

  A redhead stepped forward, making a sharp motion with her arm before any of the girls could move. “Who put you in charge? Akira and I are the team leaders. Everyone knows you’re just here because your team didn’t want you anymore.”

  “Amy, if you have a problem with me, we’ll discuss it privately.” Sahara’s chin jutted up. “Akira isn’t here. I’m telling you, from experience, that you don’t want your girls showing up tired and hungover to perform in the morning.”

  “Screw your ‘experience.’” Amy stepped up to her, sneering. “You didn’t cover up those bruises very well. You want people to feel sorry for you, don’t you?” A cruel smile made her freckled face ugly. “They wouldn’t if they knew the truth.”

  Sahara went still. The color left her cheeks. “The truth? What are you talking about?”

  “Your boyfriend found out you were fucking Keane. That’s why he hit you. And as far as I’m concerned, you deserved it.”