Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  He slapped her pussy and she cried out as painful pleasure ripped through her. "You're leaving me, little one. You will be with me completely or I will take you off my desk and see you to the door."

  No! I can't leave! She twisted her trapped wrists and tossed her head. "I'm sorry. I'm here. I was just thinking—"

  "Don't." His thumb pressed hard on her clit and her hips jerked as the sensation electrified her. He lowered his lips to her belly and found a spot that had her twitching and gasping uncontrollably. "You will have to think about this later. For now, all you need to know is you are mine. And, lucky for you, I'm in the mood to play."

  "Good!" Air caught in her throat as his fingers curved and found just the right spot to turn her brain to mush. Clinging to resistance didn't make sense any more. "After. After I don't know . . . ."

  "But I do. You intrigue me, Silver." He bent down and laved her lips with his tongue, thrusting in deep while he looked into her eyes. "Do you want to know why?"

  She shook her head as her vision blurred and her body took over. "Why?"

  "Because you're not as detached as you pretend to be." He smiled down at her. "I am surprised that you didn't have more success as an actress, though. I've never met a sub so difficult to read."

  "I'm not a sub. And maybe that's a problem, but . . . ." How she managed the words, she couldn't say, but they came out, putting up a safe wall between her and Dean. "I just need you to get me off."

  "You need more." He closed his lips over one nipple, sucked hard, then moved to the other and stretched it with his teeth. When a strangled scream left her, he released her and chuckled. "But hold back all you want. I'm up for the challenge."

  "Stop. Talking." She thrust her hips up and took his finger deep inside her. Pride sneered at her and she spoke just to appease it. "You're boring me."

  "Am I?" He released her hands and gave her a hard look when she moved to bring them down. "Latch your fingers to the edge of the desk."

  "Why—?"

  A hard smack! on the side of her breast made her buck and cling to the edge of the desk. Heat and pain flared downwards, spilling moisture which he spread with his fingers before dipping them into her. He fucked her hard and fast with two fingers, then three. The violent, erotic sensation dragged her up, up—then he stopped.

  "Look at you." The edges of his lips quirked as he fisted his hand in her hair and made her face him. His thrusting resumed, slow and shallow, engaging the tight ring of muscles at her entrance. "One minute you hate me, the next you're laid out on my desk like a fuckable buffet. I know why I want you, but why do you want me?"

  Her ass lifted rhythmically off the desk and her nails scraped the edge of the desk. "Because you can give it to me rough. I do hate you, but you're good, okay? Satisfied?"

  "Not quite." He pressed his lips together, released her hair, and gave first one nipple, then the other, a brutal twist. "But you're right about one thing. I can give it to you rough."

  He drove his three fingers deep, his knuckles slamming into her as he pistoned in and out. She let out a silent scream as she came, and he slapped her breasts while rubbing his wet fingers over her clit. Her insides rippled, sore, yet already craving more. Pleasure slashed through her and erupted over and over. A third climax latched on before the intensity of the first two had dwindled.

  "Oh fuck. Dean, please . . . ."

  "Thank me for making you come, Silver." He kissed the edge of her lips, then whispered in her ear. "Thank me and I'll let you come one more time."

  She shook her head as tears rolled down the sides of her face. "I'll thank you if you fuck me."

  "I won't fuck you." He rubbed her pussy with his palm, torturing her with just enough pressure to keep her on the precipice, but not enough to let her take that last dive into ecstasy. "But I'll finish this if you say the words."

  Damn you! She clenched her thighs around his wrist and gasped out. "Thank you for making me come, you son of a bitch."

  "Bad girl." He slapped her aching nipple and clucked his tongue. "Say 'Thank you, Sir'."

  Defiance caved under desperation. She pressed her eyes shut. "Thank you, Sir. Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

  "Much better." He bit one nipple, pinched the other, and shoved his fingers inside her.

  The orgasm fractured everything within into a million white hot shards. She bit her tongue until she tasted blood to keep from howling out her satisfaction. The aftershocks carried on long after Dean pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he rocked back and forth on his chair, murmuring meaningless words like 'beautiful' and 'precious'.

  She somehow managed to speak after what seemed like forever. "I should go."

  "Not just yet, sweetheart." He kissed her cheek and whispered. "Stay with me for a bit."

  Cradled there, with her cheek cushioned on hard muscle covered in surprisingly soft white cotton, she couldn't imagine anywhere else she'd rather be.

  Until reality hit her like a steel bat cracking the back of her skull. Stay with him? No. She couldn't. The control she'd given up to him already was a big huge sign that she better not go there.

  I came to get fucked. Not for . . . this.

  Whatever this was.

  She pushed away from him and quickly gathered her clothes, dressing without looking at him. Confidence never failed her when she was naked, but it did now. It wouldn't take much for him to change her mind.

  He doesn't want Silver Delgado, Uber Diva Bitch Extraordinaire. About time she made an appearance, don't you think?

  "That was . . . interesting." She gave him a cold smile. "But stupid. You got nothing. And I'm not the type to care about returning the favor."

  "I wouldn't say I 'got nothing'." Dean leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. "And I'd never expect you to return the favor. You'll do so when you're ready."

  You're in for an unpleasant surprise. She smirked. "If you say so. I just hope you can be discrete?"

  "Of course." He stood and picked up a folder from his desk. "I took the liberty of listing all the reputable PR agents in the area. Let me know if you need any help choosing one."

  She snatched the folder and jutted out her chin. "I can manage."

  "I'm sure you can." He sat on the edge of his desk and hooked his thumbs to his belt. "I'll be at the club on Saturday, if you're interested."

  "Oh, I might swing by." The conversation felt stilted, weird after what they'd done, but his nonchalance made her want to take one last jab. "But I won't be there for you."

  "Really?" Folding his arms over his chest, he looked her over and shook his head. "So who will you be there for?"

  Shrugging, she turned away and opened the door. "Oh, I don't know. So many men to choose from . . . and I want to get to know the team better. There are twenty-three guys to go through, Dean. I really can't say."

  "I see," he said, his tone telling her nothing. "Well, good luck."

  In the hall, with the closed door against her back, she ground her teeth and cursed at the ache in her chest. Why the hell did it bother her that he didn't seem to care?

  He will. She squared her shoulders and strode to her office, slamming the door behind her. And really, does it matter?

  It did. But it wouldn't, not for long. Even if she had to fuck the whole team, she'd prove to him, to herself, that she didn't need him.

  I am Silver Delgado. She took a deep breath and dropped into Daddy's chair. And he has no idea what I'm capable of.

  Chapter Nine

  Four pans spit and sizzled and smoked on the stove. Landon sighed as he dumped another burnt pancake in the trash and cleared his throat into the phone tucked against his shoulder. "Becky? You were saying?"

  "What are you doing?"

  "Making breakfast. I figured I should use some of the food my sweet sister stocked my fridge with." He poked the bacon with a fork, then frowned at it. Damn stuff cooked too slow. "I'm tired of eating out and I miss the breakfasts you used to make me."

  "Yea
h, you were spoiled." Becky laughed. "But don't you have a girlfriend to do that for you? We both know you can't cook."

  "No, you just wouldn't let me. I think I can manage."

  "And the girlfriend?"

  "I don't have a girlfriend." The dryer in the closet down the hall beeped. Landon spooned some batter onto the hot frying pan, then checked the hash browns in the oven with the bacon fork. His knuckles grazed the red hot element. "Fu—fudge!"

  "What happened?"

  "It's hot!" He chuckled as she muttered under her breath, clenched and unclenched his throbbing fist, and headed to the washer-and-dryer nook to retrieve his laundry. "I know you and Mom think I need a woman to take care of me, but I've been managing just fine on my own."

  "Landon, it's been two years—"

  "We're not discussing this." He dumped his clothes into a laundry basket and straightened to shake out his dress shirt before it wrinkled. "Hey, guess what?"

  Becky was silent for a few minutes, breathing the way she did when she was counting to ten in her head. Finally, she replied, "what?"

  "I did my own wash—separated the colors from the whites and everything." He smirked at her long-suffering sigh. "Aren't you proud of me?"

  "You are such a pain in the ass. Fine, you don't need a girlfriend." She said it like she didn't really believe it, but she probably wanted to move on to nagging about something else. "There is more to life than hockey though. Please tell me you do more than workout and practice."

  "I do more than workout and practice."

  "Like what?"

  He thought of his trip to Blades & Ice and grinned. "You really want to know?"

  "Oh. That." She sighed. "Well, at least you have a hobby."

  A hobby? He snorted. I guess you could call it that. "So what about you? Dickhead start paying child support yet?"

  Her sharp exhale sounded loud in the phone. "We are so not discussing that."

  "Fair enough." After bringing his clothes to his room, he laid a fresh suit out on his rumpled bed. "So how's mom? Her and Dad back from their—what is it, third honeymoon?"

  "Not yet. They . . . ." She paused, then groaned. "What are you doing now?"

  "About to get changed." He looked down at his faded jeans, with the left knee ripped and the right almost worn through. His outfit for his early morning jog. Not something he could wear to his first pre-season game. Or any games. Richter had included a pretty strict dress code in his contract. "I want to head to the forum early to meet the new goalie coach, so I can't—"

  "You're cooking, Landon. You should stay in the kitchen."

  "Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes and started down the hall. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the flames rising from the frying pan. "Shit!"

  "What—?"

  Tossing the phone onto the table in the hall, he darted into the kitchen, rushed to the sink, and filled a coffee mug with water. The damn bacon was crispy now—he tossed the water and threw himself back as a huge fireball flared up.

  "Holy fuck!"

  The smoke detector screamed and black smoke filled the room in waves. Scrambling down the hall, he grabbed the phone.

  "Landon!"

  "I'll call you back." Without waiting for an answer, he hung up and dialed 911 as he abandoned his apartment to the fire.

  * * * *

  Sitting on the sidewalk, Landon turned his phone in his hand and stifled a cough with his sleeve. A medic approached him, but he waved her off. He didn't need to go to the hospital—unless it was to have his head examined. How the hell could he have been so stupid?

  The entire building had been evacuated as a precaution, but thankfully the fire had been contained to his apartment. Still, it made him sick to see the mother with her baby pacing outside in her PJs, trying to soothe the infant as the firemen rushed in and out of the building and the sirens wailed. Again his actions could have cost someone their life.

  His phone vibrated in his hand. He checked the number, then brought it shakily to his ear, his voice raspy as he spoke. "Good morning, Silver. How you doing, beautiful?"

  "Fine, I just—" She cut herself off. "Are you okay?"

  "Just had a little mishap."

  "What kind of mishap?" She didn't wait a breath before snapping. "You told me to call you if something was up. You said we were friends. Doesn't that go both ways?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Uck! Men are such hypocrites!" She let out an angry cat growl. "You better start talking, Mister."

  He clenched his jaw to keep from smiling. Damn, I'd love to see that girl all riled up. "You're right. I would have been pretty pissed if your house caught fire and you didn't call me. Can I make it up to you by letting you buy me breakfast?"

  "Your—you—What?" This time she hissed. "Where. Are. You?"

  He gave her directions, remained silent as she cursed at him, then hung up after promising not to go anywhere. Only after staring at the phone for about ten minutes did it occur to him that he never let anyone speak to him like she had. And she was a sub to boot.

  Not your sub.

  He stuffed his phone in his pocket and scowled at the thick hose snaking across the lawn and into the apartment.

  Right. Mustn't forget that.

  * * * *

  "Why are you just sitting there? Why aren't you with the medic?" Silver glared at Landon and slapped his chest as he stood. "Do you have any idea what smoke inhalation can do to you?"

  He caught her wrists and smiled down at her. Soot and stubble darkened his cheeks, stealing some of his disarming charm. "I'm fine."

  Her body shook with fear and rage. Damn it, she could have lost him. They were just getting to know each other and it could have been over. Her vision blurred and she sucked in a deep breath as a hand settled on her shoulder. The way Dean steadied her reaffirmed her decision to call him on the way here. Most times she wanted to scream and throw things at him, and after yesterday she should know better than to let him get close, but at the moment, she welcomed his strength.

  "She's right, Landon." Dean moved to her side and gave Landon one of those don't-bother-arguing looks. "And with what she's invested in you, I suggest you do as she says."

  Landon's jaw hardened. He straightened and opened his mouth.

  "Don't." Silver pressed her fingers over his lips. Men and their stupid pride. "Please, just do this for me. I let you take care of me. If the medic says you're fine, I'll drop it. But I need to know for sure."

  His eyes softened and he leaned down until his forehead touched hers. "Fine. But after that, we're going to have breakfast."

  She laughed. "Yes, I remember. And I'm buying." Glancing over at the apartment, she swallowed. The big brick structure looked untouched except for a single, broken window. Lingering smoke formed a paste on her tongue and a coal-like lump in her throat. "I guess you lost everything . . . ."

  The moisture in her eyes helped clear away the scratchy sensation, but she knew she was way too close to getting silly emotional. Landon was okay. That was all that mattered.

  "Hey." Landon took her hand and squeezed. He smiled when she looked up at him. "It's just stuff. Most of my valuables are in storage at my parent's place. I didn't lose anything that can't be replaced."

  "But—" Silver cut herself off as an elderly couple ambled by. She tightened her grip on Landon's hand as he watched them pass, guilt casting shadows over his face.

  "How did the fire start?" Dean's tone had a sharp edge. He avoided her glare and focused on Landon. "If you don't mind me asking?"

  Landon's brow furrowed. He stared at his grey sneakers. "Grease fire. And my own stupidity. I tried to put it out with water."

  "Jesus." Dean shook his head. "You're lucky. Are you sure you didn't get burned? "

  "Wait? What's wrong with putting a fire out with water?" Silver bit her lip when Dean muttered under his breath and massaged his temples with his fingers. "What?"

  "Remind me to keep you both out of my kitchen." Dean laughed, groaned, and fiddled wi
th his tie. "I've got to get back—the new guy should be joining the team today and I want to see what I'm dealing with. Can you stay with him?"

  Wow. Silver nodded, speechless. He actually trusted her to take care of their most valuable player? Would wonders never—

  "I won't keep her long," Landon said. "She's got stuff to do—"

  "Yes. And I believe her priorities are well in hand."

  "I don't need a babysitter."

  "That remains to be—"

  Silver threw her arms up in the air, then grabbed both men's hands to pull them away from where the firemen were dragging the hose out of the apartment. "Stop it. Both of you. Dean, you've got my number. I'll check in later." She turned to Landon and put her hands on her hips. "We are friends. Do we have to go over how thing works both ways?"

  Lips twitching like he wanted to laugh, Landon shook his head and hooked his thumbs to his pockets. "Non, mignonne. I've got it."

  "Good." She gave Dean a distracted nod when he said goodbye, her gaze locked on the angry red blotch covering the knuckles of Landon's right hand. "You liar!"

  Landon blinked and frowned. "Excuse me?"

  "I will not!" She shackled her hand around his wrist and stomped her foot. "You . . . you . . . Arg! I thought you said you didn't get burnt!"

  "Ah . . . ." His tongue traced his bottom lip. He gave her a disarming smile and she wanted to strangle him. "That."

  "Yes. That." She dragged him towards the ambulance. "We are getting this looked at right now. And if you argue with me I'll . . . ." She scowled at his chuckle. "I'll have Dean bench you for a month."