Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8

by Bianca Sommerland

  Justina fisted her hands in the dark blue comforter, bright white flashing behind her eyelids. Shawn had already given her so much pleasure, she’d expected more of the same, but this…this made all the rest nothing more than a small taste of what he could do.

  His tongue was wicked. He dipped it into her, using his fingers to open her to him. There was nothing she could hide. She moaned as his tongue flicked over her clit and flames licked along her nerves, leaving them firing in every direction, like a dozen, maybe a hundred flares, burning endlessly within.

  He filled her with two fingers and she cried out, the fullness almost too much. Yet not enough. As her body tightened around him, she needed more. She wanted to hold him. To feel him everywhere.

  “Shawn!” She called his name, but she wasn’t sure what she was asking for. What he was doing was incredible. She wanted to beg him to keep going. But…but she was so close to finding that release. And she didn’t want it with his hands or his mouth. She needed it with him. “Please… I need you.”

  “And I need you, Röschen.” Shawn rose over her, bending down to kiss her lips and let her taste herself. Wet and musky and so fucking hot. He guided her hand down between them to touch her own slick heat. “Feel how ready you are? Keep yourself that way.”

  She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she’d touched herself before. Reading a hot book. Watching videos online. She’d been curious, so she knew what felt good. And she didn’t hesitate to do as she’d been told. She circled her fingers over her clit, positive she’d never been this wet before, no matter how hot the words or what she watched.

  Pulling a condom out of his wallet, Shawn groaned, watching her finger herself. “That’s so fucking sexy, Justina. You’ve done this before.”

  She bit her bottom lip and pressed her eyes shut. “I said I was a virgin. I never said I had no interest in sex. I read some pretty kinky books. And…and I watch porn.”

  “Do you?” He slid between her thighs, holding her fingers over her clit as the thick head of his dick pressed against her. “What kind of porn?”

  “All kinds.”

  “What’s the last one you watched?”

  “I…I watched one with two guys and a girl.” She could feel him stretching her as he eased in, but she was so wet, so turned on, it didn’t hurt. It did make speaking very difficult though. She hissed in a breath as he continued to use her own fingers on her clit. “But it was boring. They just…they fucked her and ignored each other.”

  “Why did that disappoint you? It’s the ultimate fantasy.”

  “If there’s more than one person, they should all be…you know…involved.” Okay, that hurt a little. But not for long. The second she tensed, he eased off. He kissed her neck, finding a spot that made her tingle everywhere. And he focused on it as he slipped in and out, never going any deeper. “I looked into it because…girls talk. And talk about Ford and Cort…”

  “Turned you on.” Shawn cupped her breasts, one after the other, leaning down to suck on her nipples. “Had you fantasized about Akira before she kissed you?”

  “No!” She whimpered as he tugged at her nipple with his teeth. “She’s my friend.”

  “So? I’ve fucked several of my friends.” His dick sank in deeper. He went still. “Focus on me, Justina. You’re so wet, so relaxed, this shouldn’t hurt much. But it won’t hurt at all if I can get your mind on other things. With all that porn, did you wonder how your new friend’s pussy tastes? Or did you just want to watch her and her men?”

  Yes! Justina could see it, like she’d seen on the porn vids. Kissing Akira had been…different. But she couldn’t picture doing more with her. She wanted to watch though. See Akira finally getting her men where she wanted them. It wasn’t all about her. She loved them both. There was tension, but getting rid of that would be so easy.

  “I don’t think of Akira that way…I wanted to see…”

  “You like to watch.”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you want to taste?” Shawn framed her jaw with his hand, rocking against her. “To feel?”

  “Not with her then, but…I’ve seen other vids. One with a lot of people. It was…fucking sexy. Everyone was touching, tasting, feeling.” A slight pain and Shawn filled her. She pressed her thighs against his hips and took a deep breath. “When everyone’s lost in it. When they’re all going with whatever feels right… That’s what I like the most.”

  “I can give you that, Justina. And I can give you this.” He held her gaze as he thrust into her. “I can give you everything.”

  She tried to make sense of what that meant. Right now, what he was doing to her was everything. All her fucked up fantasies didn’t compare to feeling flesh on flesh. To the sensations. To the sound of his breath coming hard and fast.

  Without warning, all her thoughts, all she felt, came together and evaporated in a burst of heat and steam and pleasure. She was sure she screamed, but she only felt the rawness in her throat. Everything within took over, imploding, leaving her helpless to the aftershocks that shook her, wave after wave, never-ending until she was completely drained.

  At some point she simply gave in. To the sensations. To the overwhelming emotions, to the exhaustion. Completely spent, she let him hold her close, waking only once, her mind uncertain of all she’d revealed in the heat of the moment.

  “I didn’t mean any of it,” she whispered when she saw him watching her. He should be sleeping. Maybe she’d woken him up? “I don’t know what I want.”

  “You do, Justina. And it’s perfect.” He kissed her hair and hushed her when she protested. “No judgment. No expectations. Do you regret anything?”

  “Only what I said.” Her cheeks heated. Why had she told him about the stuff she’d seen? How was that okay? “I don’t regret you.”

  “The rest can wait, pet.” Shawn held her close as his eyes drifted shut. “So long as you don’t regret me, so long as I still have a chance… The rest is something we can explore. Together.”

  “I shouldn’t want that.”

  “You should. Why deny yourself, Röschen?” He held her down when she tried to sit up. “Would you deny me?”

  “No.” She couldn’t help picture him. And White. And wonder where she could fit with them both. She’d never ask, but she considered his words.

  He wouldn’t deny her anything.

  And she wouldn’t deny him.

  Which was…perfect. Even if she couldn’t keep him, she could keep this.

  Tonight. Tomorrow. Fantasy and reality. All the lines blurred.

  An offer she couldn’t resist.

  Chapter 21

  Ian was restless as he warmed up with Hunt, using heavy ropes in a new training regime they’d both started at the gym recently. Whipping the long, doubled up rope against the ground between them, they each tried to knock the ropes out of one another’s hands. Which was harder than it sounded.

  He and Hunt weren’t fond of one another. Not since Hunt had the fucked up idea that Ian had done something to Richards—who Hunt treated like a little brother.

  Fine, Ian had done a few things to Richards, but not when Hunt started being all overprotective. And seriously, Richards was at least eighteen. Legal and all.

  Not to mention, Richards had more experience than Ian did.

  But…bringing that up probably wouldn’t make Hunt his new BFF.

  The baby goalie was a good workout partner though. They’d reached a truce. He even trusted the kid to spot him when he lifted weights. Not that he didn’t wonder if the guy would some day drop them on his neck, but so long as Hunt didn’t find out he’d fucked Richards, he was probably safe.

  A violent tug and the ropes tore against Ian’s hands. He dropped them with a curse.

  Hunt frowned at him. “Dude, where’s you head at?”

  “Right here, man. I’m good.”

  “You sure?” Hunt’s brow furrowed as Ian rubbed his hands against his snug black shorts. “Wanna work with the medicine ball for a
bit? Don’t wanna fuck with your grip.”

  “Sure.” Ian ditched his sweat-soaked shirt as Hunt went to grab a ten-pound medicine ball from the trainers. They tossed it back and force for a bit, then moved to rolling it between planks. Not many of the men warmed up this much before games, but Hunt matched Ian’s need to feel all his muscles burning a bit before he hit the ice.

  Hunt was in an unusually chatty mood tonight though. He held himself in a steady plank position as Ian did a pushup with one hand on the ball. “You’re dating Carter’s sister now, right? What’s she like?”

  Ian inhaled slowly, making sure to keep his tone level. No fucking way was this kid gonna make him feel old with all his talking and not even breaking a sweat shit. “She’s nice.”

  “Nice?” Hunt stared as Ian rolled him the ball. He spoke as he did his pushups with perfect form. “She boring?”

  “Dude!” Ian shook his head, blinking as the sweat dripped into his eyes. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

  “Because nice sounds boring. Maybe you should try fucking Carter instead.”

  A shadow fell across them, but Ian wasn’t feeling ‘nice’ enough to warn the rookie before Ramos rested his foot on the center of the baby goalie’s back. “Interesting conversation, chico. May I join you?”

  Well, now Hunt was sweating. He swallowed hard. “Uh…sure, Ramos. But, like, I didn’t mean anything. Just…hell, dude needs to get laid or something.”

  Ramos held out his hands and Ian tossed him the ball one-handed. With his foot still on Hunt’s back, Ramos threw the ball back to Ian. “He seems less distracted than you do, Hunt.”

  “Because you’re fucking stepping on me, man!”

  “If you’ve the energy to run your mouth, you’re not being challenged enough.” Ramos bounced the ball right in front of Hunt and the goalie startled. “But let’s continue discussing my man and what White should be doing with him.”

  Hunt’s arms trembled. He shot Ian a pleading look. “Did I say Carter? I meant someone else. Anyone else.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t hear Carter.” Ian pushed to his feet, catching the ball one last time and grinning as Ramos inclined his head. “Sorry about the misunderstanding, Ramos.”

  “Apology accepted.” Ramos held out his hand and helped Hunt to his feet, patting the young man’s shoulder when he stood. “It’s good to see you two getting along. You have much in common.”

  Like the fact that we’re both meatheads? Ian shrugged as Hunt glanced over at him, confused. They both watched Ramos walk down the hall and back into the locker room.

  “That was…weird.” Hunt scratched his jaw, which had sprouted quite an impressive playoff beard. He almost looked like an adult with that thick black layer of scruff. But his expression was like a little kid caught with his hand in Ramos’s cookie jar. “He knows I was joking, right?”

  “About me fucking Carter? Probably.” Ian chucked his sweaty shirt in Hunt’s face as they headed for the locker room. “But he’s probably caught you checking out his man’s ass.”

  “Asshole!” Hunt slammed into his side as he opened the door.

  The kid didn’t know his own strength. Ian managed to avoid crashing into Callahan and braced his hands on the floor. Too late. When Hunt fell on top of him, his chin hit the carpet, skimming across it.

  “Fuck!” Even with his own beard, the carpet had taken a layer of flesh. And his chin stung like a motherfucker. He jabbed his elbow back into Hunt’s ribs. “Get your fat ass off me, man!”

  Hunt scrambled to his feet, his face ashen. “Shit! I’m sorry, White. I didn’t mean to… Fuck!”

  He spun around and bolted out of the locker room before Ian could even stand.

  When he did, he was face to face with Demyan, whose eyes were sharp with rage. “Nice going, Bruiser.”

  “How is this my fault?”

  “His dad’s always on him about keeping his body fat down. He hit ten percent, and apparently, it’s the end of the fucking world. Becky makes him come over almost every day to make sure he fucking eats right. He’d finally chilled out a little.” Demyan’s jaw ticked. “But it was awesome of you to remind him what his dad thinks of him. Thanks for that.”

  Demyan took off after Hunt.

  And Ian stood there, staring at the door, wondering why he was so damn stupid. He vaguely recalled one of the trainers having a heated argument with Hunt about his diet. Telling him he didn’t need more protein. That he was in good shape.

  The kid doesn’t need you saying stupid shit to him. Everyone knows his dad is an asshole.

  “White.”

  I didn’t think…I never do.

  “Ian!” Pischlar’s voice cut through the noise in his head. He motioned for Ian to come sit beside him. “I know that look. You didn’t know; don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  Grinding his teeth, Ian stared at his scuffed sneakers. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Maybe not, but I believe you were reacting out of pain.” Pisch’s lips slanted as he took hold of Ian’s jaw. “You’re not supposed to get banged up before the game, Bärchen. Hold still.”

  Grabbing a clean towel from his stall and a bottle of water, Pisch wet it, then held the towel to Ian’s chin.

  Bearkin. I didn’t think he’d ever call me that again. Ian pressed his eyes shut, knowing they couldn’t talk here. But they needed to. Soon.

  “Please tell me he didn’t hit his head.” Callahan came to stand beside Pisch, looking down at Ian. “You good?”

  “Yeah, just feel like a jerk.” Ian scowled. Which hurt. Fucking hell. “And I have rug burn on my face.”

  Callahan covered his mouth with his fist and coughed. “No comment. But don’t worry about Hunt. He’s a goalie. They’re all a little touchy.”

  “Hey!” Bower shouted from across the room where he was taping his pads. “I heard that!”

  “Good! You fucking ready, Frenchman?”

  Bower’s cheeks went red.

  Pisch chuckled and chucked the water bottle at the assistant coach. “That’s inappropriate, Coach. Please don’t say it again.”

  “Sorry?” Callahan looked lost. He glanced back at Bower, who made a dismissive gesture. Then he went around the locker room to check on the other men.

  And Bower grinned at Pisch, mouthing ‘Thank you’.

  What the actual fuck? Ian glared at Pisch when his man smiled at the goalie. He might not be super smart, but he could tell there was something going on between them. Something he’d missed.

  Was Pisch fucking the goalie now? The man was married. Or almost married? He’d been with Silver forever, and they had a kid. They were both with Richter, and he didn’t share. Did he?

  Who fucking knew anymore? Not like he had a say in who Pisch fucked.

  He’s ‘Easy’. He does whoever the fuck he wants.

  “Ian—?”

  “Don’t fucking call me that, Pisch.” Ian pushed Pisch’s hand away from his face and stood. “I gotta get ready to play. Thanks for the chat.”

  Before he got far, Pisch was by his side, a firm grip on his shoulder as he redirected Ian past the locker room door and into the hall. He shoved him into the equipment storage room.

  Ian’s pulse raced as Pisch pushed him against the closed door. This was such a bad idea. A really fucking bad idea.

  Why’d you let him drag you in here then?

  He wasn’t sure, except, he needed to hear what Pisch had to say.

  Also, Pisch being all commanding had short-circuited his brain.

  His dick was very interested in whatever came next. Which wasn’t so great. Putting on a jock with a hard- on wasn’t much fun.

  You’ve got just enough time for a cold shower.

  Yep. Good plan. He tried to sidle away from Pisch.

  Pisch fisted his hands in Ian’s hair. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Bärchen. I’ve given you space while you explore whatever the hell you’ve got going on with that girl, but there will be no misunderstandin
gs between us.”

  Misunderstandings? Ian rolled his eyes. There was nothing even a dumbass like he wouldn’t understand. “Got it. You done?”

  “Clearly not. What’s upsetting you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit.” Pisch lowered one hand between them, pressing it against the front of Ian’s shorts, sharpening the ache pulsing through his rock hard dick. “Is there something you need, White? Something you haven’t been getting?”

  Yes! His jaw clenched as he fought the overpowering effect Pisch had on him. The man didn’t have to touch him to steal every ounce of control Ian had, but when he did? Putting together words, in a way that made sense, was a struggle.

  Damn it if he wouldn’t try though. “It’s Bower.”

  Eyes wide, lips parted, Pisch stared at him. Then he frowned and shook his head, tightening his grip on Ian’s cock. “You want Bower?”

  “No! Hell, can you stop that? I can’t think.” Ian inhaled roughly as Pisch gave him room to breath. “Are you fucking him?”

  “What?”

  “Pretty simple, Easy. Are you fucking Landon Bower? Our starting goaltender?” Had Pisch gone braindead? He still looked confused. Ian slammed his head back into the door. “The big Frenchman?”

  “The big… Himmel arsch und zwirn! White, where did you get that idea? Because I noticed he was uncomfortable with the nickname?” Pisch’s eyes narrowed at Ian’s shrug. “I happen to be very observant. Do you think I fuck all my friends?”

  Honestly? Ian dropped his gaze, not sure how to answer that. He believed Pisch. The man didn’t lie about shit like this. But he did fool around with a lot of his friends.

  “Talk to me, Ian.” Pain filled Pisch’s eyes as he brought his hand to Ian’s cheek. “I can handle just about anything, but I hate that you don’t talk to me anymore.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Ian pressed his eyes shut. “I miss you, but I don’t know how to do this. I’m with Sam. She needs me more than you do.”

  Pisch made a sharp, irritated sound in his throat. “Obviously. But are you still with me, Ian?”