Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  DEFENSIVE ZONE

  The Dartmouth Cobras

  By

  Bianca Sommerland

  Copyright 2012, Bianca Sommerland

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Edited by Rosie Moewe

  Cover art by Reese Dante

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning

  This ebook contains material not suitable for readers under 18. In also contains scenes that some may find objectionable, including BDSM, ménage sex, bondage, anal sex, sex toys, double penetration, edge play, and two Doms that will use any means necessary to earn submission. Author assumes no responsibility for repercussions related to reenacting office scenes, but will take full credit for all pleasure involved.

  Dedication

  The game. 'nough said ;)

  Acknowledgements

  To Cherise Sinclair who made this a much stronger book. To the Toymaker and Eirocawakening for your beautiful Violet Wand scene—you have no idea how privileged I felt to be 'there' with you for something so intimate. Your guidance and insight into the lifestyle was priceless. To Ebony Mckennie, Stacey Price, Genevieve Trahan, my precious beta readers. To Riane Holt for your support and guidance through the whole process. You tweaked the 'Gossip Column' into something better than I could have managed on my own. To Rosie Moewe for your tireless work in the final hours, polishing words and lending a shoulder to lean on when I so desperately needed it.

  Readers, your emails, comments, reviews, and investment in my characters make it all worth it.

  And to my family who knows I'm crazy, but loves me anyway!

  Chapter One

  Celebrity Dish

  by Hayley Turner

  Silver Delgado has abandoned the spotlight—to run a hockey team?

  I can't say I'm surprised. The child model and supporting actress for Take Me Home started her career in Hollywood followed by rumors of sexy rendezvous with several players from her father's team, so it's obvious that she has a taste for stick welding hotties. The question is, why didn't her father, wealthy financer Anthony Delgado, delegate the team to his eldest daughter, Oriana? Rumors of her upcoming nuptials to the Dartmouth Cobras playmaker, Max "The Catalyst" Perron, say Oriana definitely knows how to handle a player, or three, quite well.

  Daddy dearest may regret his decision when Silver continues her shameless antics with the players who aren't 'attached' to her sister....unless he's hoping she'll provide a little motivation. And who knows, if she gets bored, perhaps she can design a trendy line of heavy coats and boots!

  Hollywood's loss is Nova Scotia's gain?

  Silver Delgado crumpled the clip from the tabloid in her fist. A whitewash of cold ran over her flesh as she faced Daddy, but her smile never slipped. "Hayley is a jealous bitch—she thinks I fucked her husband."

  "Watch your language, young lady." Her father's golden brown eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his wheelchair. His red velvet smoking jacket, with its thick black silk collar, masked his frailty well, forcing her to focus on the austere expression which reduced her to the naughty little girl that had disappointed him yet again. "Did you?"

  "Did I . . . ? No!" Her skin crawled as she pictured Mr. Turner, not ugly exactly, but definitely disgusting. He licked his lips so often whenever he talked to her it looked like he was drooling. "He hit on me a few times—my agent told Hayley that he was making me uncomfortable and she had to conduct any future interviews herself. Hayley refused to believe her husband would be that 'unprofessional'."

  "I see . . . ." Shaking his head, her father rolled to the far end of his rooftop patio. He drew in a raspy breath and waved her over. Gazing out at the picturesque scenery, a clear view over the trees to Lake Banook, glowing under the early morning sun, he spoke quietly. "You earned this reputation, Silver. Whatever this woman has against you, everything in that article is the truth."

  Everything? She bit back a grin. "So you want me to 'motivate' the players?"

  He slapped his hand on the railing. "Don't be obtuse. I want you to behave professionally. This family doesn't need any more bad press."

  "I know. But—"

  "No buts. I hate asking this of you. If I had a son . . . if Antoine wasn't . . . ." The lines in his face tightened. "You are all I have left. I need to know I can trust you to represent me, to prove that our family, that our legacy, is as strong as ever."

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Silver rested her forearms on the railing and stared down at the manicured grounds below. "I'm not all you have, Daddy. Oriana—"

  "Do not speak her name in my presence. What is it, Silver?" His trembling hand latched onto her arm. "Are you afraid of the responsibility? Please don't be. Think of it as playing a part. You're an actress, aren't you? Smile for the cameras, sign whatever my staff brings to you, and be pleasant with the investors. Learn enough about the game to carry on an intelligent conversation. It shouldn't be too difficult, even for you."

  Yeah, thanks for all that trust, Daddy. "I'm sure I could do a decent job, but . . . Daddy, you can't be that mad at Oriana! She knows the game! She would be perfect for the job!"

  "What did I say?" His face reddened and the stark blue veins at his temples throbbed. He slumped into his wheelchair and put his hand over his heart. "Do this for me and I will give you whatever you want. Do you like your condo? There's an extra room for an office so you can work from home whenever you want. My staff will accommodate you. If there's anything else you need, just tell me."

  Silver blinked and shook her head. Her eyes teared up as she saw the strong man that had always intimidated her reduced to this. After seeing him in the hospital, inches away from death, all she wanted was to make sure he had time to heal. Did it really matter whether it was her or Oriana who took over the stupid team until then?

  "Don't get upset, Daddy. I'll do it. Everything is perfect." She knelt by his side and held his hand to her cheek. "I'm just scared that I'll disappoint you. I don't know anything about hockey."

  "Of course you don't, my precious little doll." He smiled and bent over to kiss her forehead. "But you can do this. Just be your beautiful self, keep your legs crossed, and everything will be fine."

  Ouch. She bowed her head so Daddy wouldn't see her wince. "Okay."

  "I like what you're wearing." He tipped her chin up and brushed his hand over her tight bun, his gaze raking over her grey and black pinstripe skirt suit. "If you dress like this every time you go out in public, people will forget your tawdry past and give you the respect a daughter of mine deserves. I suggest you burn the rest of your wardrobe. It killed me to see you strutting around in those trashy outfits. I was advised not to watch your movies. I hope you know you don't have to sell your body any more to make a living. You will receive a monthly allowance to cover all your expenses and more."

  Damn it, I never 'sold my body'. Fine, some of the parts she'd taken hadn't required much of a wardrobe, but everyone in Hollywood had to start somewhere!

  Not that Daddy would understand. So she simply nodded and smiled. "Of course."

  Sitting back in his wheelcha
ir, Daddy motioned for her to stand. "One last thing. I'm sure you've heard about the mess last season—last season being when the team was playing?"

  She nodded. She wasn't completely brain-dead.

  "Roy Kingsley was involved, but he is our biggest investor." Her father studied her face as though to make sure she understood what that meant. He continued at her nod. "If he approaches you, in any way, do your best to make him happy. And I don't mean by sleeping with him. But batting your eyelashes and being sweet may be enough to keep the dirty bastard from pulling his support of the team. Can you manage that?"

  Flirt with the old guy, but don't fuck him. Yeah. I think I can manage. But hopefully she wouldn't have to deal with him at all. "I can do that."

  "Lovely." His head jerked up as the patio door slid open. His jaw ticked. "They will have to go."

  Silver looked up and inclined her head as Asher, her boyfriend, stepped out beside his boyfriend and tapped his watch.

  "I'm very sorry to interrupt." Asher didn't look at her father. After Daddy's ranting about her 'gay boyfriends' at the hospital, he knew better. "But we have to go."

  "Not sorry enough not to." Daddy frowned at her. "If you don't go, I suppose there will be talk. Bring your sister the gift Anne bought her. We must keep up appearances. For now."

  A quick nod and she scrambled to her feet. Anne, her father's—and now her—secretary, came out to roll him inside. For a split second, Silver was tempted to beg her father to come to Oriana's wedding. But after his last reaction to just hearing her name . . .

  Yeah. Bad idea.

  "You good?" Asher asked as soon as Daddy was out of hearing.

  "I'm good." She moved away from him and stood by the tall, glass wall fountain in the center of the patio. It was new. Not something Daddy would have added on his own. She had a bad feeling Anne was making herself very comfortable here. "Let's go. I hate this place."

  "Aww, doesn't it look the same as the fancy place you grew up in? What is it, new curtains? I'm sure it must be dreadful for you."

  She should have kept her mouth shut. Asher had grown up poor. He'd gotten where he was today through hard work, his brains, and playing dirty. She respected him for that, but she wasn't stupid enough to think that he'd understand that her life hadn't been something to envy. As far as he was concerned, if you grew up with enough to eat every day, you had no right to complain.

  And he was probably right.

  "You're never late for anything, Asher." She gave him a sideways glance and smirked. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for ruining your perfect image."

  "If I gave a shit about my image, I'd stay away from you." Asher grinned. "Come on. You've gotta get all prettied up. The sister of the bride should look her best, right?"

  Pulling off the careless act was easy with Asher. She tossed her head and shrugged. "This is me. Would you expect any less?"

  "Nope." Asher hooked his arm to hers and brushed his free hand over the front of his dark blue suit jacket. His crisp, light toned cologne tickled her nose as he gazed longingly towards the entrance. "You know, it's too bad your father doesn't like me. He's got this Hugh Hefner thing going for him. I'd so drop you for him as a sugar daddy!"

  "I did not just hear that!"

  Asher smirked. "I've never done vintage."

  "TMI, Asher." She tugged him inside, casting a pleading glance to Cedric who stood by the doorway, silent as a shadow. "Will you talk to him?"

  "Why?" Cedric hunched his shoulders and followed a step behind as they made their way through the house. "He does who and what he wants. I'm just here to look pretty."

  Uck, why do I bother? But at least Cedric's remark shut Asher up. He let her go and slung his arm over Cedric's shoulders. Thirty minutes later, Asher parked his towncar in front of the condominium, then went inside with Cedric, straight into their room, and shut the door.

  Silver paused in the hall by the door, wondering, like she always did when Cedric got like this, if she should have said something. What exactly, she didn't know. Cedric and her didn't talk much unless it was about legal stuff.

  Asher can handle him. Go get ready.

  Closing down and dealing with routine stuff, like getting all dolled up, cleared her head of all the drama with both her boyfriends and her father. Time to forget how sick Daddy was. And how miserable Cedric seemed sometimes. A mist of sweet perfume, a bit of powder to on her face to illuminate her complexion, one would think she didn't have a care in the world.

  The gilded vanity mirror before her reflected an utterly perfect face and body. Her bright green eyes were fake, but everything else was real, despite her agent's frequent hints about getting a boob job. She turned from side to side. Yep, her pert breast in the snug pink mesh tube top would get the guys drooling even though they weren't huge. She smoothed her hands over her loose hair and took a deep breath.

  It's Oriana's day. All eyes should be on her.

  Little wisps rose from her pale gold locks and she scowled. After spraying hairspray on a bristle brush, she brought it up and clenched her teeth when she noticed the brush shaking. She was shaking. She had to get a grip. A lot of the members of the BDSM club where her sister was getting married were players on the hockey team she now owned. If she was going to prance around in front of them looking like a whore, she better act comfortable with the image.

  Not a whore. A sub. She snickered. As if any man could dominate her. She might pretend with Asher and Cedric, but that was just a game. A role she played when she was in the mood. Granted, she'd directed her sister to a Domme book when she'd had problems with her ex, but that was just because Paul seemed like the submissive type. Or a cheater, but she hadn't had the heart to tell her sister that. Men who didn't want sex either weren't interested in the woman they were with or they needed someone else to take charge. They could also be gay, but she knew enough gay men to rule Paul out. What she didn't get was how Paul had resisted Oriana. She had a natural beauty that might not make it on the runways, but made men think of more than fucking.

  The brush clattered on her dresser top. She braced her hands on the ledge and bowed her head. Was she really going to get all worked up about this? Her sister was happy and Silver was happy for her. Oriana needed the ring. And the collar.

  Silver Delgado needed none of that. She was a self-made woman and she had two men who . . . cared about her. She was in control of her own life and that was exactly how she wanted it.

  Her pink silk clutch caught her eye. She opened it and took out a small vial, sealed with wax and full of white powder. Gritting her teeth she shoved it back inside the purse and grabbed a lollypop from her stash. I don't need that anymore.

  But she did need a drink. The cherry flavor felt cough syrup thick on her tongue. She plucked it from her mouth and shouted. "Cedric, bring me the rum!"

  A couple of minutes later, Asher strode in and handed her the bottle. She smiled and fingered the buttons of his black silk blouse, hoping to distract him from a lecture. He had a thing about women drinking too much.

  He took her purse and dumped the contents on the dresser. Picking up the vial, he gave her a sideways glance. "You're still hanging on to this? You know if you get hooked again I'm not fronting the dough. It's a disgusting habit."

  "I know that." She shoved her makeup and stuff back into her clutch without looking at him. "Don't worry. I just keep it around so I know it's there. If I don't, I start wondering where I can find more. It's complicated."

  "Whatever. Are you ready?" He put his hands on his expensive black jean clad hips. "You look good."

  "Thank you." She turned to the mirror and ran her hands over her thighs to make sure her pink booty shorts didn't ride up. Archer wasn't looking, but sometimes he did. He might be gay, but for some reason he was still interested in her. Which made him bi as far as most of his friends were concerned, but he joked that he wouldn't go that far. She was different. Not just another pussy.

  She liked to think she was special. He loved Cedric
. And just maybe loved her too.

  "I've never played the Dom in front of anyone." Asher tucked his thumbs into his pockets and rocked on the heels of his shiny Italian loafers. "Anything I should know?"

  As if I know? She slid open the top drawer of her dresser and grabbed the collar that went with her outfit. Pink and black studded leather. She held it out to him. "You do just fine showing the leatherguys that you're the 'top'."

  "That's not the same and you know it."

  All right, the dick chastity belt that Asher made Cedric wear to their meetings—which she couldn't attend—was a bit more than she wanted, but dominance was dominance, no? She just didn't want to seem available. She stuck the lollipop back in her mouth and wrinkled her nose. Not to the 'real' Doms.

  "Just pretend you own me. Okay?" She shoveled all her belongings into her purse and sucked harder on the lollypop. "This is about Oriana."

  "That's funny." Asher lifted her hair off her back and laid a soft kiss on her shoulder. "Because dressed like that, I'm thinking you'll get most of the attention. Which is exactly what you want."

  "No it isn't! This is how subs dress!"

  "For their Master's pleasure. So he can show off." Asher shook his head. "Why don't you wear that little red number you got from your shopping spree in Italy? It's quality and it's what I'd have you wear if you were really my sub. This outfit costs less than my socks."

  "You're such a snob." She held her hair out of the way and let him put on her collar. "And I'm not your sub, so you don't get to tell me what to wear. That dress makes me look like a streetwalker."