“Sure.” Vanek straightened, slightly, though his stance was somewhat slanted. “Does it hurt?”
Reggie shrugged. “Didn’t bother me.”
“Come on, you wimp.” Demyan pulled off his gray T-shirt. “Max is paying.”
“I am?” Max considered Chicklet’s reaction. And Ramos’s. Standing by while their subs desecrated their bodies was bad enough, but paying for it?
Then again, a playoff run would be worth the ire of both. Forgiveness was priceless. And letting the trio go for it would get him just that. So he eased back onto his stool and nodded to Reggie. “Two tattoos and three sets of piercings. If none of them cry, I’ll give you a nice tip.”
“Cry?” Demyan snorted and braced his arm on the bar. “You wish.”
“Piercings are faster. You don’t wimp out when I pierce your nipples, and I’ll do the tattoos.” Reggie took out a blue sheet and went over to the far end of the bar where he’d be less likely to be disturbed. He laid out the alcohol pads, antibiotic gel, a metal clamp and a container holding rather large needles, all individually wrapped. Another container with different rings and barbells.
Clean equipment at least, though Max wasn’t so sure about the piercings being done in a crowded bar. He watched Demyan stand in front of Reggie as Reggie pulled on some latex gloves and figured he should probably speak up. “You sure you don’t want to wait ‘til closing? Ain’t he supposed to lie down?”
“I can do it with him sitting up,” Reggie said, shrugging. He held up an alcohol pad. “Would you rather wait?”
“No, I’m ready.” Demyan’s jaw hardened as Reggie ripped open the package. “Let’s do this.”
Max chuckled at Demyan’s wince as the alcohol swab touched his nipple. “Shall I man the bar?”
“Would ya?” Reggie held his tongue between his teeth as he dotted each side of Demyan’s nipples. He pulled over a chair and had Demyan sit. “Take out a Red Bull for him—just in case he gets dizzy.”
Demyan scoffed at that, but once Reggie had the clamp in place, his face had lost most of its color. Max held up a finger as a group of men called out for some beer and went over to set the can of Red Bull on the bar, out of Reggie’s way.
The hiss Demyan let out as the needle pushed through his flesh made it impossible to look away. Suddenly, Max couldn’t see the men anymore. He pictured Oriana in Demyan’s place, Sloan in Reggie’s, his big hand around Oriana’s breast and the gleam in his eye as the sharp needle broke through her skin.
Stepping up to his side, Carter nudged him, bringing him back to the present. “I’ll take care of the bar. You go ahead and watch.”
Max nodded his thanks, swallowing as the sharp needle tip came through the other side. The act in itself wasn’t erotic, but knowing how Sloan would feel doing this to Oriana, being there to see her eyes glaze with pleasure as the pain shifted inside her . . .
Fuck, he was hard. He grinned at Demyan’s questioning glance. “It ain’t you.”
“Well, damn. Way to crush a man’s ego.” Demyan inhaled roughly, inclining his head when Reggie asked if he was ready for the second one. Once both barbells were in, Demyan stood, staring down at them with a crooked smile on his lips. “Looks good, don’t it?”
The silver against Demyan’s smooth, tanned skin did look good, but Max imagined it would look even better against the swell of Oriana’s beautiful breasts. He licked his lips and decided he’d bring the idea up to Sloan when he got back to the hotel.
“You know it looks fucking sexy. Your ego don’t need no more stroking.” Carter laughed, handing Max a paper with an order to fill out for one of the waitresses. “My turn.”
Vanek leaned over the bar, chewing at his bottom lip as he stared at Demyan’s piercings. “Was it painful?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Demyan rolled his shoulders, barely hiding a wince. Then he reached out and squeezed Vanek’s shoulder. “Don’t do it if you’re nervous, though.”
“I’m not.”
“Not worried about what Chicklet will say?”
Max missed Vanek’s answer as he was filling all the orders. Once the crowd around the bar had thinned, he returned to observe Carter’s reaction as his second piercing was put in. The young man’s expression was almost dreamy. He twitched when Reggie dabbed on the antibiotic gel, shifting his hips as though sitting still was becoming uncomfortable.
“That was . . .” Carter shook his head hard, likely to clear it. “Damn. Wish Jami was here. Or Seb.”
“Why?” Vanek came around the bar, hesitating as Carter moved so Vanek could take his place. “You not feeling good?”
“Too good.” Carter gave Vanek a lazy smile, looking him over. “Hell, even you’re looking good right now.”
“What—?” Vanek frowned when Max lifted his hand and shook his head. Vanek peeled off his shirt and dropped it onto the other two on the counter behind the bar.
Without making it too obvious, Max gently pulled Carter aside and got him to sit on a stool. He studied Carter’s face, very familiar with this behavior from Oriana when Sloan got her in the right headspace. Carter was floating on endorphins. The second Max pulled out some beers at a call from a waitress, Carter grabbed one and tried to open it.
“Water.” Max used the firm tone that usually got through to Oriana when she was spacey. He smiled at Carter’s contrite look, pleased when the young man quietly took a water bottle from him. It was getting near last call, so most of the people in the bar were clamoring for a few more drinks. Max served them all, surprised when Reggie joined him.
“Might want to go check on your boy,” Reggie said grimly.
That didn’t sound good. Max turned to see Demyan crouched down in front of Vanek, while Vanek slumped against the bar, one hand over his very pale face. He was shaking hard, skin slick with sweat. When Max got to him and moved his hand, he could tell the boy was close to either throwing up or passing out.
“Call Chicklet, Demyan.” Max rubbed Vanek’s back, his voice low and soothing. “Tell me how you’re doing, kid?”
Vanek hiccupped, staring at the bar top. “Don’t call Chicklet. She gonna be so mad.”
Would have probably been good if the boy had considered that before going through with the piercings, but there was no point in bringing that up now. He needed to keep Vanek calm. “All right, reckon you can break this to her tomorrow. Can you sit up for me? Might could see if this Red Bull helps any.”
After a few gulps, Vanek made a face. “This stuff’s nasty.”
“Drink up.” Max glanced over his shoulder, opening his mouth to ask Demyan for a damp cloth. Reggie caught his eye, then nodded toward the dance floor. Where Carter and Demyan were dancing with two young women.
Well, shit. Max rubbed his face with one hand. He needed to get them all home. He took out his phone and called the one person who might be able to get them all rounded up and out of here before they got themselves in trouble.
“Damn it, Perron. Do you know what time it is?”
“Sorry, Coach.” Max groaned as the waitresses started getting the customers to clear out. All except for the crowd Carter and Demyan had herded to the bar. Reggie served them all, then set up everything he needed to do Demyan’s tattoo. “I might could have a problem here.”
Tim sighed and the sound of his mattress creaking came clearly through the phone. “Are you drunk?”
“Had a few, but that’s not the problem.” Max cleared his throat, feeling more than a little guilty having to drag the coach out of bed to deal with a situation he’d let get out of control. “Kinda brought the boys out and—”
“Which boys?”
“Demyan, Carter, and Vanek.”
“Are you insane?” Tim groaned, then spoke away from the phone. “He brought out the trouble triplets—stop laughing, Madeline, it’s not funny.” Despite his words, a hint of amusement lightened Tim’s tone. “Where are you? I’ll get there as soon as I can. Keep them from doing anything stupid for the next ho
ur or so. I’m a ways out of the city.”
Max told Tim where they were, then returned his focus to Vanek, who appeared to be sleeping. He tried to call out to Reggie to stop giving the boys alcohol, but the music seemed to have been turned up even louder than when the bar was open.
By the time Tim arrived, the tattoos were finished and Demyan and Carter were both stripped down to their boxers. Dancing on tables. The coach took one look at them, then brought his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle that cut right through the music.
Carter and Demyan froze. Vanek sat up.
Reggie shut off the sound system.
Arms folded over his chest, Tim glared at Carter and Demyan as they climbed down from the tables. “This ends up in the papers and you’re both getting fined.” He made a sharp motion with his hand when Demyan tried to speak. “You should know better. Now get your goddamn clothes back on.”
“Don’t be mad, Coach.” Carter slid sideways and put his arm over Tim’s shoulders. “We were celebrating Perron coming back.”
“Which is the only reason I don’t punish the lot of you with a 6:00 a.m. skate.” Tim looked over at Carter, his brow slightly raised as he studied the tattoo on the side of Carter’s neck, sharply defined despite the redness and the shiny ointment. “Music notes?
“Cats.” Carter gave him a dopey grin. “Jami’s gonna love it.”
Tim snorted. “And Ramos is gonna kick your ass.”
Carter’s grin vanished. Worry clouded his overly bright eyes. “You really think so? You don’t really have to tell him, do you?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Tim rolled his eyes at Max, who did his best not to laugh.
They got the three drunk players into the backseat of Tim’s Range Rover, not speaking much until they’d gotten all three to Tim’s house and settled them into the spare bedrooms. A few phone calls to their significant others so they wouldn’t worry, and Max joined Tim in the living room.
He was sure Tim would tear into him, but Tim simply slouched back into the sofa and burst out laughing.
“You ain’t pissed?” Max asked, more than a little surprised.
“No. I think this was good for the team.” Tim folded his hands behind his head. “Those three needed to let loose. Doing so with you will get them past whatever issues they had.” His lips slanted. “This team has always been pretty tight. Having you back . . . I like our chances for the playoffs. They might get some flack over the ink and the table dancing—Chicklet and Ramos might want a word with you over it too.”
This was why Tim was the best coach in the league. He saw not only the big picture, but all the little details that would get the team where it needed to be. He might not have liked being called away from his wife on a rare day off, but so long as he saw results, he’d let it go.
Max would see to it that he got those results. He couldn’t stop smiling as he thought of how a few—okay, more than a few—drinks had diluted the bitterness the trio had toward him. In the end, it felt like old times with the team. “I’ll deal with the fallout, don’t worry.” He stood as Tim did, reaching out to shake Tim’s hand and give him a firm hug. “Thanks for helping me out.”
“Glad I could.” Tim grinned, hugging Max a little harder. “I’m a little surprised you’re sober. I’d half expected you to be hanging on me like Carter was, telling me how much you love me.”
Laughing, Max patted Tim’s back before letting him go. “Don’t need to be drunk to tell you that. I love you, Coach. We all do.”
“You’d better.” Tim brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. “Dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night.” He shook his head as he made his way out of the living room. “See if you still love me at our next practice.”
Chapter Thirteen
Exhaustion had taken Akira the second she’d climbed into bed with Cort, but it was 5:00 a.m. and she was wide awake. She rolled on to her belly, braced her elbows on the bed, and smiled at the big man in the bed beside her. He let out a soft, sleepy groan and dropped an arm over her back.
She giggled as he picked her up by the waist and laid her over him. “I thought you were sleeping!”
“No, I was waiting for you to follow through with your threats.” He placed his hands on her hips, his thumbs lightly stroking the curve of her pelvis, waking her in a different way. All that was between them were his boxers and her panties. The swell of his erection pressing against her had her melting with pure, hot desire. He gave her a knowing grin. “I spent the first hour considering all the things in your room I could use to tie you up if you got out of control.”
“Mmm, I think it’s too late.” She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands over his head, leaning down to kiss the length of his neck. “You can’t stop me.”
“Not sure I want to.” He easily freed one hand, slipping it around the back of her neck and guiding her up so he could give her a long, slow kiss. The way he ground up against her made her breath catch as heat throbbed down low. Then he slipped his lips along her cheek to whisper in her ear. “The first time would be easiest with you on top. Then I’ll know how much of me you can take.”
“I’d say you’re bragging.” She inhaled his clean, arousing scent, sure she could get drunk and high on him alone. He was rain in the spring mixed with pure, deep notes of musk. Like standing on a mountain during a downpour, the air around her earthy and rich. She lifted her head as his fingers trailed up her spine under her nightshirt. “But I’ve had my mouth on you. I can’t take you all the way in.”
“Such a dilemma.” He made her sit up and pulled her night shirt up over her head. “I guess we’ll have to go very, very slow.”
Her eyes drifted shut as he covered her small breasts with his huge hands. Brought her back down so he could suck a nipple into his mouth. The tug of his lips, the flick of his tongue, had her trying to get a good grip on his hair so he wouldn’t stop. His hot breath moistened her flesh. He slipped one hand between her thighs, rubbing gently at the moist swatch of cloth covering her.
“Not too slow.” She whimpered as he slid a finger under the material and pressed it inside her at a torturously languorous pace. Part of her was a little nervous about taking him into her body, afraid it would hurt. Some women might think bigger was better, but Cort was big enough that he’d have to be careful whenever they were together.
If she didn’t trust him, she wouldn’t even risk it. But she did, and right now his finger just wasn’t enough.
“Hmm, I guess not.” He withdrew his finger, glistening wet, and brought it to his mouth, making a hungry sound as he sucked it. “Fuck, I could just eat you. You taste so good.”
She held her breath, torn between wanting his very talented mouth on her once again, and taking as much of him into her body as she could. Shifting restlessly, all kinds of naughty words on the tip of her tongue, she spoke quietly. “I want this, Cort. I want you.”
He sat up, wrapping his arms around her. “Your last request of the night.” He glanced at the clock and laughed. “Or should I say, morning. But we do this my way.”
“Yes, Sir.” She batted her eyelashes, wiggling her hips a little to tease him. “I am yours to command.”
One brow arched, he set her aside, then stood. He reached down to take his wallet out of his jeans on the floor, pulling out a condom. “Right now, I have only one command, Tiny.”
Her lips held tight between her teeth, she looked up at him expectantly as he placed the condom in her hand.
His fingertip brushed down her cheek. He bent down and grazed her lips with his. “Don’t let me hurt you.”
“You won’t.” She said the words with complete confidence, but sensed his doubt as she knelt in front of him to pull down his boxers. He climbed onto the bed as she took off her panties, then hauled her onto him, tangling his hands in her hair as he kissed her. Something about the tenderness in his kiss made her want to assure him it would be all right. She cupped his cheek in her hand. “I’m tougher th
an I look, Cort. Don’t worry.”
“If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here now.” Cort loosened his grip on her hair as she glided down his body, taking him in her mouth to distract him. He groaned, moving his hips to match her rhythm as she took him in a little deeper than any time before. “Fuck, baby. I’ll never get enough of you.”
She smiled as she slid her lips off him. “I like hearing that.”
Being with him was so easy. So natural. She put the condom on him, trembling as she rose above him and positioned him against her. She wasn’t sure she could have gone this far, this quickly, with anyone else. But as the blunt end of him penetrated her, only the very tip, she froze. Swallowed over and over, trying to get air past the rapid pulse in her throat, pounding in her chest.
“Don’t move.” His tone was hard, but not angry. He sat up and wrapped one arm around her waist. “Does it hurt, or is your head somewhere else?”
His voice slowed her stuttering heart, made it easier to breathe. She had to think about her answer, because she didn’t know what it was. The stretching was almost too much, but . . . yes, for a split second her body had made the penetration a bad thing. She needed to get out of her head a little bit, but she wasn’t sure how. She wanted to feel, not think.
“Talk to me, Akira.” He wound her hair around his fist and tugged until her eyes widened and she stared at him. “We can stop. Don’t force yourself to—”
“Dominik.” She shook her head quickly when Cort’s eyes darkened. “No, I wasn’t thinking of him. It’s just . . . when I’m with him, he’s completely in control. There’s no room for anything but giving myself to him.” She held her breath, not sure Cort would understand. “I want to give myself to you. Completely.”
“Red.” Cort let out a husky laugh when she frowned at him, confused. He drew her hands up, placing them behind her neck. “That’s the word, isn’t it? You’ll say red if it gets to be too much. Otherwise, you’ve given me this sweet little body to play with.” He latched on to her hips and eased deeper into her. “And I plan to do just that.”
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 21
