Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2)

by Bianca Sommerland

  His arm barred across her belly and air whooshed out of her. "Do I need to tie you?"

  Energy buzzed in her veins as she smiled through her teeth. "If it pleases you, Sir."

  "But you won't hold still."

  Trick question? Well, he hadn't 'commanded' it. "No, Sir."

  "It'll be rather difficult to tie you while I'm holding you, won't it?"

  She bit back a smirk and nodded.

  Dean let out a dark chuckle and hooked his fingers to her skirt to draw her between his thighs. "It's a good thing there's two of us then, isn't it pet."

  He closed his thighs tight against her hips and grabbed her wrists.

  Trapped. Her heart thumped hard into the cage of her ribs as Dean forced her to her knees. Her nipples tingled and her breasts felt swollen, heavy. The air she gasped in tasted like the men and pure, hot sex.

  Landon knelt behind her, biting down on the nape of her neck until she whimpered and stopped struggling. Then he laughed breathlessly and pressed his solid length against the small of her back. "Now we've got you."

  He left her and returned seconds later, crouching down next to Dean to undo her shirt. He flipped her bra off her breasts and used the folded cups to push her breasts up. Then he rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Jolts of pleasure heated her whole chest as he tugged hard. He released her nipples, reached into his pocket, then pulled out a small package.

  Nipple clamps. She shook her head and tried to throw herself backwards. "No way. No fucking way."

  "Yes." Landon cupped one breast and applied the clamp. Her eyes teared as the pain rode over the preceding pleasure. He didn't give her a chance to adjust to the fierce pressure before applying the other. "Breathe, Silver."

  She didn't want to breathe. She wanted to kick him.

  "I need to tightened them a bit."

  Tighten them? She shook her head. "Please no!"

  He watched her face as he tightened the clamps, not stopping until tears spilled over her cheeks. Then he frowned. "What do we say when it's getting to be too much?"

  "Yellow."

  "Shouldn't you be saying that now?"

  She inhaled and shook her head. Damn it, something inside her needed him to keep pushing. Didn't want him to hold back. If he took it easy on her, or if she used that word and got him to back off, she would lose . . . this helpless feeling. Fuck it hurt. Bad. But he wouldn't have gone even this far if he didn't think she could take it.

  "She's fine, Landon." Dean bent down and kissed her forehead. "Please continue. I'm curious to see what you're going to do with that thin rope. It's not to bind her?"

  "No." Landon undid her tie and held it up. "I think this will suffice."

  Landon took her wrists from Dean and used her tie to bind them at the small of her back. Then he draped the rope around the back of her neck, letting the ends dangle as he folded the middle part under her collar so it didn't touch her flesh. He came in front of her again and strung one end of the rope through a clamp.

  "Take your dick out, Dean. I need her to take you in deep so I can adjust the length."

  Adjust the length?

  Dean didn't ask any questions. He simply undid his suit pants and pulled out his engorged cock. He gently guided her down, stroking her cheek with his knuckles as she opened her mouth and took him in.

  "A little deeper—there. Can you breathe around him okay, pet?"

  The swollen head of Dean's dick almost hit the back of her throat. But if she opened her mouth wide enough, air passed around it. She gave Landon a little nod as she stared up at him, then Dean.

  "Fuck, Silver, you feel damn good around me. Move your tongue a little." Dean groaned as she moved her tongue as much as she was able, stroking back and forth against the base of his cock. "Yes. Just like that, pet."

  Okay, this was good. She loved the way a man's cock felt in her mouth, his pulse, his pleasure, all hers to control. It made her feel special because she was damn good at this and men had been telling her so since long before she should have had any idea what a blowjob was. The clamps putting a slight weight on her nipples changed things a little, but not enough to tear her away from her practiced motions.

  Until Landon attached the other end of the rope to the second clamp. Rising tightened the rope and her breasts stretched painfully. Lowering eased the tension, but got her stuck with Dean's dick almost lodged in her throat.

  Her breaths came hard and fast through her nose. She peered up at Dean, pleading with her eyes.

  "Let her up for a minute, Landon," Dean said.

  Landon undid one side of the rope and helped her sit up.

  Dean traced her bottom lip with his thumb. "Yellow or Red, pet?"

  "Re—" She shook her head and swallowed. "Yellow. I don't think I can do this."

  "Why not? Are you having trouble breathing?"

  "No."

  Nodding, Dean touched her cheek and smiled. "You were scared and panicked a bit. This is called predicament bondage. I've never seen it done quite like this, but it's fucking hot. I think you'll enjoy being trapped, pleasuring me, while Landon plays with you. Shall we try again?"

  I don't want to. She pursed her lips and glanced from him to Landon. Their expressions were unreadable. She could either give in or refuse. If she refused, well, she doubted there would be any consequences. But she would miss out on whatever they had planned.

  Mentally putting herself back in that position, trapped, available, her focus entirely on her body between both men . . . . Maybe she could do this after all.

  "Okay." She smiled at Dean, but gave Landon a dirty look. "I don't suppose you could loosen the clamps, Sir?"

  "Mon petit chaton, if they were too tight, you wouldn't be giving me that look. You'd be crying and begging." He cocked his head and gave the rope a sharp tug. Pain flared out and she squeaked. And the crazy man grinned. "Not even a whimper. I'd test your limits a little more if you weren't so new, but I think this will do for today."

  "You make pond scum look good, you know that? I—" She stopped talking when Dean took hold of her jaw. "Umm . . . ."

  "Yes. Umm." Dean frowned. "You know better. Apologize."

  "I'm sorry." She rolled her eyes. "Sir."

  Dean tapped her cheek. Very lightly, but it still surprised her. Her head snapped right out of the defiant mode and she gazed up at Dean with her lips slightly parted.

  His lips quirked. "Don't think I forgot you telling Carter to slap you. Don't ever expect me to hit you as hard as he did—in the face anyway—but I do believe a love tap will get you into the right head space quite efficiently."

  "Yes, Sir." Her eyes were teary again, but something about it was almost refreshing. She could finally let go. She sucked on her bottom lip and turned to Landon. "I really am sorry."

  "Good girl." He smiled and took a knee, kissing her long and hard. "I know this isn't easy. But I promise, it will be worth it."

  He maneuvered her back over Dean's cock and she stayed in position as he reattached the rope to the clamp. And this time she didn't go for cock-sucking pro. She simply let Dean inside without resistance.

  Behind her, Landon lifted her skirt. He insides clenched as his fingers slipped inside her pussy. His thumb passed over her clit and her body jerked at the shock of pleasure. White hot pain glazed her nerves as her breasts swung. His free hand spread her ass cheeks and she winced as he pressed on a sore spot. Saliva gathered in her mouth and she did her best to gulp around the dick in her mouth.

  Another finger, wet with her own juices, pushed into her back hole. Once it was fully inserted, Landon placed his knees between hers and opened her thighs. And thrust his fingers into her pussy and her ass all at once.

  Erotic sparks lit within as he fucked her with his fingers, moving her over Dean at his own pace, giving her no choice but to receive them both. They rocked together, back and forth, a little faster, a little rougher, lost to passion. Dean groaned as her chin bumped his balls and gathered her hair in his hands as hi
s dick swelled. He came in her throat in hot spurts. Landon bent down and bit her ass cheek right over a welt. The sharp sensation wound with everything pitched her into a violent orgasm. Ecstasy shredded her into a million pieces. She forgot about the strings and threw her head back to scream. Agony burst through her breasts.

  "Ah—!"

  Dean covered her mouth and dropped down to help her slack the ropes. "Not here, love. I won't have people judging you because of this. You were perfect."

  She shook her head. Something was missing. Then she knew. "Landon?"

  "Do you want more, Silver?" Landon's fingers slipped from her as he kissed the small of her back. "I can wait."

  "No. I need you to . . . ."

  "Then brace yourself, ma chérie."

  A rap at the door froze them all.

  "Shit." Dean stood and did up his pants. "One minute!"

  Landon pulled her into his lap and under the desk. As he undid the ropes, she giggled.

  "It's not funny." He smirked. "Don't make a sound."

  Before she could tell him she wouldn't, he removed a clamp. She bit into her cheek as pain exploded in her breast. When he took off the other, she slumped into him and sobbed into his chest.

  He covered her breasts with his hands. "I know, mignonne. It will pass."

  "Come in," Dean said.

  Footsteps. Then a deep sigh. "Hey, bro."

  "What's wrong, Tim?"

  "It's Jami." Shoes scuffed on the carpet. Tim cleared his throat. "She's in the hospital. She overdosed."

  "What?" Dean's chair hit the floor and Silver winced. He moved out of sight. "Overdosed? On what?"

  "Cocaine."

  Her heart beat so hard, it almost drowned out the sound of the door slamming. She pressed her eyes shut and curled into Landon's arms.

  No. Anything but that.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Dean took his daughter's hand and sat beside her on the bed. Her face was drawn and— damn him, how had he not noticed how much weight she'd lost? She was old enough to make her own decisions, yes, but she still lived under his roof. He should have used what little control he still had over her to . . .

  What control, Richter? She doesn't listen to you anymore.

  But he should have tried harder.

  "Daddy." Tears streaked down Jami's pale face and for a moment she was his baby again. Six years old and asking him to check for monsters in the closet. Twelve and writing him tearstained letters from summer camp, begging for him to come get her. Which of course he had. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

  "Shh. It's okay, baby. You made a mistake." He kissed her cheek and spoke low. "Did that boy you were with—?"

  "I don't want to talk about Ford. He's such a loser."

  "What did he do to you?" He actually managed to sound calm. Not at all like he was tempted to commit murder.

  "What . . . oh! Nothing really. He just didn't like my friends and—okay, maybe he was right about them." She sighed. "But seriously, I don't need a guy telling me what to do."

  "No. You don't." Hypocrite. He shut down the mocking, internal laughter and squared his jaw. "But you do need to stay away from the drugs. Is this the first time you ever . . . ."

  She fiddled with the sheets covering her and stared at her hands. "First time with coke."

  "Oh, Jami—"

  "I knew it. You're mad." Scowling, she pulled away from him and sat up. "Why do you think I had them call Uncle Tim? I knew you'd freak out."

  "I'm not freaking out, I'm trying to help you. You're drinking and doing drugs." He shook his head and closed his eyes, reminding himself that his daughter needed his support. Anything else would be taken as a challenge to defy him. Like when he'd tried to talk to her about her drinking. "What about school? You seemed so excited—"

  "I dropped out. It was boring and I haven't decided what I want to do yet. I enrolled to make you happy."

  "Well, what will make you happy?"

  "I don't know yet."

  "Maybe I can get you an internship at the forum. What are you interested in?"

  "Jeez, dad, seriously?" She slumped onto the pile of pillows. "I'd rather pick up trash for a living than have anything to do with fucking hockey."

  He grinned despite her scowl. "Trash collectors make a decent living."

  "That's so lame." A snort escaped her as she gave him her patented 'get real' look. "Besides, I'm not worried about a job right now. I'm really messed up."

  "Okay, I get that." His brow furrowed when she laughed. He pulled her blankets up to her chin. "Get some rest, sweetie. We'll figure this out together. I'll take some time off work—"

  "You never take time off work."

  "But I will. All I care about right now is making sure you're okay." He paused as a nurse opened the door to Jami's private room and nodded when she held up a blood sampling kit. "I'll be right outside the door if you need me. And when I come back, we're going to discuss rehab."

  "Dad!" Jami blushed and glanced at the nurse. "I don't need rehab."

  "Jami, you do." He moved aside to let the nurse pass. "We'll talk more when you're done."

  Out in the hall, he took a deep breath and pressed his fist into the wall. Silver came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  She was quiet for a bit, then whispered. "How is she?"

  "Lucky." His throat locked. He blinked fast. "What have I done to her? She needed me and—"

  "She's a big girl, Dean."

  "So what? She's my daughter and I failed her. I'm all she has." He tugged on his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. "I don't know how to help her."

  "Can I try?" Silver held onto the sides of his suit jacket as she stepped back. "Maybe she'll listen to me."

  "You're her father's girlfriend, Silver. Right now she resents you. I don't see how—"

  "I've been where she is, Dean. She might learn from my experience."

  "I'd agree if it was trouble with a man—"

  "I'm not talking about men." Silver pressed her lips together and let her hands fall to her sides. "I've done some messed up shit. We haven't talked about my past much."

  "No. We haven't." He smiled wanly and reached out to take her hand. "And I'd like to, but now isn't the time."

  "Now is the perfect time. I can help her because . . . ." Her throat worked as she dropped her gaze to her feet. Normal black heels—thankfully she'd changed out of the school girl outfit in time to come with him to the hospital. He didn't need a reminder of what he'd been doing while his daughter was being rushed to the ER.

  Since Silver didn't finish her sentence, he squeezed her hand and sighed. "Please, love. Whatever you have to tell me, make it quick. I don't want to leave her alone."

  She inclined her head. "Okay. There's no good way to tell you this. But I've been clean for about nine months."

  "Been clean?"

  "I did coke in Hollywood. It got pretty bad. But I quit."

  "No." Fuck no. He didn't need to hear this now. "Silver, what did I tell you about lying? This isn't helping."

  "I'm not lying. You have no idea how many stupid things I did out there. Drugs are at the top of a long list." Her eyes looked almost glassy as she peered up at him. "But like I said, I quit."

  "I would have heard if you went to rehab."

  "I didn't."

  "So then how did you quit?"

  She held up her purse, opened it, and pulled out a small vial of white powder. "I kept this on me so I knew I could start up again whenever I wanted to. And constantly reminded myself why I didn't. I ruined the life I built getting stoned. I still have cravings, but I use candy to stave them off. It's not easy, but it works. If she doesn't want to go to rehab—"

  "She is going to rehab." His vision narrowed to that vial. How had he missed this? Silver did drugs? Okay, she said she'd quit. But she had the shit that had poisoned his daughter in her hand. And he had a feeling it had been on her this entire time, while they were together. Every time she'd stuck a lo
llypop in her mouth, it was because she wanted to use.

  What am I supposed to do with that? He took a big step back. "You need to go. I don't know what to do with what you've just told me." Restraining his urge to shout made his tone sound lifeless. "I could have lost her. I could lose you. I can't handle this right now."

  "I'm not trying to upset you, Dean." She hid the vial in her purse. "I just wanted to let you know you didn't have to deal with this alone. Give me a call if you need anything. I'll swing by later."

  "Please don't." Dean looked over as the nurse came out of his daughter's room. "I'll call you."

  Silver's hands locked around her purse in a strangle hold. Her chin jutted up. "Okay. You know my number."

  "Silver, don't be upset—this isn't coming out right. I—"

  Inhaling through her nose, Silver shook her head and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Jami's room. "Don't worry about me. Worry about her. I was strong enough to get past this on my own, but I didn't have a choice. She's lucky to have you."

  She slipped away and he cursed under his breath. She'd gone completely unreadable there and he couldn't tell how much damage he'd done asking her to leave. Not that he could do anything about it. In any other situation, he'd go after her and make her talk to him, but he wouldn't leave Jami.

  He covered his face with his hands and did his best to plaster a blank expression on his face before returning to his daughter's side. Where he belonged.

  * * * *

  Silver let out a blissful sigh as she sank into the bath and soaked all her senses in the rich cinnamon scent. Dean had bought the bath oil for her, told her to use it in a hot bath when she was stressed or . . . sore. Right now she was a little of both, but she wouldn't let it bring her down. Jami's doctor had assured her that Jami would be fine, though he couldn't tell her anything else. She was worried, she hated what the kid was going through—but Dean could take care of his daughter. Jami had gotten a bad scare. She might listen to him now.