Offside

by Bianca Sommerland

  “Damn it, Scott! You really think I’d do that to her?” Zach raked his fingers over the hair cut close to his scalp. “A scene can bring a sub to place that leaves them vulnerable. I’m not sure I spent enough time easing her out of that place.”

  “What about a Dom? Do they go to that place?”

  “No. The Dom’s in control.” Zach frowned at him. “Why do you ask?”

  Scott shrugged. “Just wondered. You know I’m trying to learn stuff at the club. I might never be a Dom, but if I played with someone, and felt shitty after, would you tell me I shouldn’t?”

  “Of course not.” Zach put his hand on Scott’s arm, stopping him before they were within hearing of the other men. “What are you getting at?”

  An ice cream vendor ringing a bell and rolling his cart around the lot to tempt the kids passed. Scott waved to him, then jogged over to buy a couple of Häagen Dazs chocolate-covered bars. He brought them back to Zach, then handed him one.

  “You get to be taken care of too.” Scott unwrapped his bar, lifting it toward Zach in mock cheers. “And I’m gonna do it, whether you like it or not.”

  Zach took a big bite of his bar, crunching on the chocolate shell and licking his lips before inclining his head to Scott. He already looked a lot better than when Scott had shown up. He actually managed a smile by the time he finished his ice cream.

  “Chocolate?”

  “Yeah.” Scott smirked. “Thought pulling you into my lap wrapped up in a blanket might not be appropriate.”

  The roar of Zach’s laugh had most of the men staring at them. The team was used to Zach being pretty reserved around them. But those who’d known what was going on looked relieved. Tim gave Scott a thumbs up. Even Chicklet smiled.

  Scott left Zach to get ready to play, feeling damn good about himself. Zach was gonna be okay. And one way or another, they’d be together tonight.

  Most importantly, Scott had finally done right by the man.

  * * * *

  Becky’s hair was a tangled mess under the motorcycle helmet, but she didn’t much care as Zach unbuckled it and tossed it down on the gravel by the bike’s wheels. She gasped as he bunched her hair in his fist, holding her still while he ravished her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth as he ripped open her leather vest. Her nipples hardened as the sun bathed them in heat.

  Zach leaned back against the bike handles, slowly unzipping his leather pants. His dick jutted out, hard and proud as she rose up to take him into her body, shamelessly exposed with her black pleated skirt barely covering her thighs. He stretched her slick folds roughly as his hips jutted up and she arched her back, crying out. Letting him fuck her on his bike by the highway was so perfectly wicked. It made her feel young, wild, and free. She had nothing to worry about other than pleasing this man who could have her anytime. Anywhere.

  “Look at those pretty tits.” Scott chuckled when she gaped at him, then leaned down to bring one breast up to his mouth. “You want both of us, don’t you?”

  “Yes!” Becky kissed Scott as Zach rammed up into her body, completely lost in the sensations of the men’s hands and mouths and bodies. “Please!”

  “Then you know what you have to do, pet.” Zach growled, wrapping one arm around her waist to ram her down hard. “Just forget everything else.”

  “No! No, I can’t!” Becky woke, shoving the sheets away, slapping her hand over her mouth when she spotted Casey, sleeping peacefully beside her. Tears clung to her lashes as she pressed her face into her pillow. At least she hadn’t woken her daughter.

  This wasn’t like her, this last minute decision to take the early morning flight to Gaspe with her parents, getting Casey up at 7:00 a.m. to make the trip. She’d packed in such a rush that she was sure she’d forgotten something. And what must Mr. Keane think of her calling so suddenly to tell him she wouldn’t be coming in for two weeks? She was lucky that he hadn’t fired her!

  But she’d had no choice. Her relationship with Zach had become too much to handle without putting space between them to figure things out. She needed to spend time with her daughter. With her parents, who were the perfect example of how a good, strong relationship should function. God knows she hadn’t managed that in her own marriage.

  Her nap had only served to make her feel more tired. Drained. She slipped from the guest bedroom, padding downstairs to the kitchen, smiling groggily at her mother who met her with a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

  “Oh, honey.” Her mother shook her head, brushing Becky’s hair back to look into her eyes. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit longer. You’re so pale . . .”

  Becky forced a smile to her lips. “Sleep won’t help, maman. I just need time out in the sun with Casey. I’ll bring her to the park later.”

  “I see.” Her mother gave her a shrewd look. “There are parks in Dartmouth.”

  “I know that.” Becky took a few sips of coffee and sighed. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

  “Don’t you lie to me, mademoiselle. I spent weeks out there with you and your brother—”

  “Are you upset that I came?”

  “Of course not! You’re always welcome.” Pulling her into a hug, careful not to spill either of their coffees, her mother whispered, “but I know you. Before Patrick, you would face your troubles head-on. But ever since . . . it’s as though you must analyze everything and then lock away your emotions before making any decisions. As though the part of you that feels is something to be hidden. Maybe even ashamed of.”

  Her mother was so wrong. She wasn’t ashamed of her emotions. And there was nothing wrong with considering her options before doing anything rash.

  And leaving Zach like that? That wasn’t rash?

  Just knowing she wouldn’t see him tomorrow, or the day after, or . . . a weak sound escaped her before she could stop it. This was wrong. Needing a man was so very wrong.

  But she missed him already. And he’d be so hurt, so confused when he found out that she’d left. Guilt made it impossible to sleep well. Or even take in enough air when she breathed. Maybe, if she called him, spoke to him . . .

  You’ll want to go home. You should go home!

  Her mother’s grip tightened around her. “Talk to me, ma bichette.”

  Bichette. Little doe. Becky let out a watery laugh. Her mother and Zach using the same endearment for her should feel weird, but it was just so right. As though Zach had known exactly who she was from the start. A little doe, trapped in a tunnel, not sure if the light at the end was the sun or a car coming to crush her. And because she couldn’t tell, she ran.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She sniffed. She might not be sure of much, but she was absolutely certain of one thing. “I’ve felt off since Casey went to visit Patrick. There are so many distractions back home. I need it to be just the two of us for a little while.”

  “All right. But, Rebecca?” Her mother’s tone was that special mixture of firmness and tenderness. The tone she’d used when Becky was little and slipped out of sight for a few moments, long enough to scare her mother to death. An “I love you, but don’t you ever do that again”. “Don’t hide. Not from me. What you went through with Patrick . . .” Her mother’s face crumpled. “I don’t understand how you put up with it. How you let him tear you down the way you did. I raised you to know your worth.”

  “Maman, he cheated on me. And he had no respect for me. But something good came out of that hell of a marriage. I can’t regret what we had. It gave me Casey.”

  “He taught you to feel alone. And you’re not.”

  I am. But that’s my choice. The only one who should never feel alone was Casey. She was a child and she needed her mother. But Becky told her own mother what she needed to hear. “I know I’m not. I have you.”

  Unconditionally. And she would give her own daughter no less.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Put a movie on, Scott.”

  Scott froze midway between the door and the sofa where Zach had
stretched out. Scott’s hands were curled under the bottom of his T-shirt. He’d been all ready to strip and get on his knees—Zach’s team had won after all. Apparently, Zach wasn’t ready for his prize.

  “Sure. Umm . . .” Scott went to the hutch where Zach kept all his movies, then glanced over his shoulder. “Got anything in mind?”

  “I thought you wanted to watch some zombie movies?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Scott studied Zach. “But I lost.”

  “That you did.” Zach’s lips twitched with amusement. “Pick a movie.”

  All the movies Scott wanted to watch were on Netflix, so he closed the hutch and went to grab the remote for the PS3. After pausing George A. Romero’s original Night of the Living Dead he took a step toward the kitchen. “Want anything?”

  “Yeah. Get some popcorn and a couple of beers.” Zach snorted when Scott stared at him. “Don’t give me that look. I know what time it is. You ever heard that country song? Pretty sure Mason’s played it a dozen times in the locker room.”

  Uh-huh. Must be five o’clock in fucking Ireland or something. Works for me. But Zach was a social drinker. Again with the moderation. Scott glanced over at the black Roman numeral clock on the wall above the front door. “Not even two here, man. You’re not still being all destructive because you’re kink damaged, are you? Maybe you need more chocolate?”

  Zach covered his face with his hands, groaning and laughing. “I’m not kink damaged. Just having a beer with a friend, pal.”

  “Right.” Scott inhaled slowly as he made his way into the kitchen, getting the popcorn ready and snatching the beers out of the fridge. All the muscles in his back felt like molten steel, hardened in an unnatural mold. A friend. Guess it’s something. He dumped the popped kernels into a red plastic bowl, then brought everything back to the living room, more than ready to suck his “friend’s” dick and get the fuck out of there. He wasn’t even sure why the label bugged him. Maybe because he wanted there to be more between them.

  And there never would be.

  “Take off your shirt,” Zach said, bringing a small handful of popcorn to his lips. “And come here.”

  Scott practically tore off his shirt, then threw it in Zach’s face. “I don’t give a shit what everyone thinks. You’re a fucking asshole. At least I’m clear when I’m not serious about someone. You’ve got me jumping through fucking hoops to be your friend? Enough with the head games. I know you sadistic fuckers are into them, but they don’t do anything for me.”

  Zach dropped the shirt on the floor by the sofa, looking so damn calm Scott wanted to crack the man right in the jaw. His deadpan tone didn’t help. “Are you quite done?”

  “Soon as you blow your load down my fucking throat, buddy.”

  “And I’m damaged? Damn it, Scott. I saw you were concerned. I appreciate it, but I’m feeling better.” Zach turned on to his side, bracing himself up on his elbow. “I’m taking you up on the snuggling.”

  “You—you’re what?”

  “You heard me.” Zach sighed, pushing to a sitting position. “We both know we’re more than friends. I don’t know how much more yet, but I’d like to find out. I’m not in a rush to get off. I want you here, lying next to me.” He pulled off his own shirt and laid it over the back of the sofa. “I just want to feel you. Skin on skin. Nothing else.”

  “Nothing else . . .” That confused Scott more than the “friends” thing. Yeah, he’d gambled for a movie marathon, but that was because he figured Zach would like him not being all about sex. Didn’t mean he got it though. And he’d understood even less after Zach had thrown in the blow job token. “So we’re doing . . . what? Platonic shit?”

  “No. You owe me.” Zach grinned, slouching back on the sofa in a way that drew Scott’s attention right down to the well-defined lump between Zach’s parted thighs. “But there’s no rush. Part of the deal is that you’re not going anywhere.”

  “I’m staying.” The words came out like a breath that had been held too long. The pressure building up in Scott’s chest evaporated. Finally made sense. Zach needed to know he’d stick around—more so after Becky’s disappearing act. Scott gave Zach a crooked smile, shoving at Zach’s chest until he was lying down again. “Good thing you’ve got a big sofa. We ain’t small guys. Need our space”

  “Not too much space though.” Zach dropped his arm over Scott’s side as Scott pushed back against him, his fingers running lightly over the trimmed, golden blond hair on Scott’s chest. He kissed Scott’s shoulder. “Press play. Pretty sure I haven’t seen this one.”

  Scott grabbed the remote and unpaused the movie. He pillowed his head on his arm, eyes drifting shut as he focused on how good it felt to have Zach touching him. Different, because he didn’t do nice and tender. Or simple affection. But it relaxed him. Made him forget about the rush to get the job done. This wasn’t about getting his rocks off. Hell, he didn’t think being with Zach in any way could ever be something quick and cheap. There was so much more to it. Emotions and all that crap.

  It was fucking scary when he let himself think about it.

  They stayed like that during the first movie, leaning up just a bit to take sips of beer. Which was different too, because Scott usually just guzzled beer down—the whole point of drinking was getting numb, right? But it wasn’t like that now. He got to enjoy the crisp flavor of the German lager. Zach drank beer the same way he smoked cigars—or cigarettes. To appreciate the flavor. He appreciated the few vices he allowed himself, and rarely overindulged. Scott couldn’t help but wonder if he was like those vices. Something to savor on occasion.

  Is that a bad thing?

  He couldn’t say. Drinking or smoking too much could be a bad thing. Ranking on the same level as Zach’s clove cigarettes meant they wouldn’t be spending tons of time like this. Zach would be the one to pull back, wary of the damage Scott could cause.

  I could be good for him.

  Scott groaned as Zach’s hand wrapped around the front of his neck and his lips slid along the corded muscles of Scott’s throat. Zach’s other hand was low on his stomach, slipping into his shorts, his boxers.

  I will be good for him.

  “Fuck, I love having you here like this.” Zach let out a low growl as he stroked Scott’s dick. “You’ve dropped the front. You’re all mine.”

  “Fuck!” Scott jutted his ass back against Zach, not sure what was getting to him more. The pleasure of Zach’s firm grim on his cock, or the fact that it was Zach. Kissing his neck and saying shit that smashed all the walls Scot usually put up when he got with someone. Sex was physical. Just a thing he did when he had the urge. But with Zach, it meant more. And he needed to show Zach just how much more it meant. “Please. I messed up, man. I’m sorry; I’m so fucking sorry that I—”

  “It’s over, Scott.” Zach’s teeth scraped the curve of Scott’s shoulder. “I forgive you.”

  “I don’t forgive me.” Scott rolled over, off the sofa and on to his knees. “I owe you.”

  “You don’t. Just stay with me and we’ll call it even.” Zach lurched to his feet, pressing the heels of his palms to his forehead. “I know that sounds pathetic, but—”

  “It doesn’t. I get it. That’s how I felt when I came to move Becky’s stuff. She set me straight, but all I wanted . . . all I wanted was for you both to let me stay.” Scott held up his hands when Zach gave him a pained look. “I earned it, Zach. She loves you, and she didn’t want me to hurt you again. I know I did. And I hate myself for that.” He latched on to the back of Zach’s legs, then pressed his forehead against Zach’s thigh. “Never again. I’ve never had anything I cared about losing, but I don’t want to lose you. Either of you. And I’m trying to prove it.”

  “You’re doing a damn good job, Scott.” Zach petted Scott’s hair, his tone gruff with passion. “If it was just me, I’d risk it. But with Becky . . .”

  “I know. She’s got a lot more to lose. And if she’s not sure of you—fuck, what chance have I go
t?” Scott gritted his teeth. “I need . . . I need to know I’m getting somewhere. Don’t give up on me, Zach.”

  “Not happening.” Zach framed Scott’s jaw with his hand. “I’ve got you, Scott. I’m not letting you go.”

  “Good.” Scott gave Zach a feral grin. “So is you fucking my mouth going to ruin all this?”

  “You are too much. I won’t use you. You’ve got some shit to tell me before I’m comfortable with this.”

  “What shit? Like how much I want your cock slamming into the back of my throat? Like how it makes my mouth water just to feel how hot and hard your dick is through these jogging pants?” Scott rolled the jogging pants over Zach’s hips, exposing his flushed, throbbing cock. “How about how good it feels that you’re letting me do this to you? Because I know you’re fucking picky. You don’t do this with someone you don’t care about. And you care about me, don’t you?”

  “More than I can say, Scott.” Zach thrust his hips forward as Scott wrapped a hand around his dick. “But I know you. I could be anyone. And I can’t deal with that.”

  “Not anyone, Zach. Not anymore.” Scott wanted to suck Zach’s dick, make him come hard, but he had to be sure Zach really understood that he wasn’t just saying what Zach needed to hear. That he meant it. He stood, still holding Zach’s dick, and faced the man. He held Zach’s gaze as Zach opened his eyes, staring at him. “When you jerked me off, you asked me to look at you. To remember who was touching me. I see you, Zach. I could have a dozen different men any day of the week. But I’ve shot every fucking offer down because none of them are you.”

  “Do you mean that, Scott?” Zach grunted as Scott dropped back onto his knees, his hands clasped at the back of Scott’s head. “You’ll give all that shit up?”

  “For you?” Scott dipped his head down, taking Zach’s dick in deep. He made a low, hungry sound in the back of his throat before he lifted his head. “You’re fucking right, I will.”