BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (18 page)

He moved his hand and groaned as she took him into her mouth. "Fuck, Jami. You're fucking gorgeous."

Why did him calling her 'gorgeous' make her feel so good? She kept her eyes on him as she tasted the slick, salty slit at the tip of his dick. He caught her eyes on him as his tongue touched the scar splitting his bottom lip and turned his head slightly so she could only see the unmarked part of his face. Suddenly, she knew why the word meant so much. The way he said it was reverent, like he couldn’t believe she’d want him.

His scars were sexy to her, but bringing that up now wouldn’t help anything. And used her mouth to prove how much she did want him. Sucking hard, she lowered her head until he hit the back of her throat. Then used her tongue on the underside of his dick as she eased up. His fingers tangled in her hair as he tried to pull her down faster, but Sebastian knelt behind him and caught hold of his wrists.

"Don't rush her, semental. This could be the last time I let you use her mouth." Sebastian's words were followed by the slick sounds of wet lips and she tipped her head back so she could watch them kiss. Watch Sebastian wrap his hand around Luke's throat. "She's mine."

Luke groaned and his dick twitched between her lips. His salty precum coated the top of her mouth as she dipped down, then up, moving faster and faster. His balls hit her chin each time she lowered. But as his cum spurted down her throat, her chin hit rough knuckles. She swallowed and rose up, letting Luke’s dicks slip from her lips as Sebastian held Luke tight, his huge arm barred across his chest as he massaged Luke's balls, then gave his cock one last stroke so a bit more cum oozed out. She bent down to lick up every salty drop, grinning at the way Luke shuddered.

Scowling, Luke pressed her head against his thigh. "Bitch."

Jami snickered and circled her finger over the top of Luke's dick, still trapped in Sebastian’s fist, loving the way he cursed and squirmed. "You have no idea."

"Up with you now." Sebastian helped Luke to his feet, then pulled Jami up as well. "Would you like me to drive you home, Jami, or would you prefer to stay?"

"I can drive her," Luke said.

Sebastian's brow rose slightly. "I don't recall giving you the option to leave."

"Listen, buddy, what happened here wasn't me signing up to be your sub. Or your fuck friend." Luke combed his fingers through his mussed up hair. "It was one wild night and it was pretty awesome, but that's it."

Asshole. At least he wants you to stay.
Jami hugged herself. "My car's here, I can drive myself."

Rolling his head to crack his neck, Sebastian let out a heavy sigh. "Luke, you live with two other players. If either questions you tonight you may say the wrong thing. Jami, I would like you to stay, but your dancing will be judged tomorrow—"

"The dance tryouts are on Sunday. And I don't even know if I'm going." The very idea of embarrassing herself in front of the judges again made her feel sick. At least she'd been confident about her skating abilities. "I can't do the routine, so what's the point?"

"With the way you move on the ice, I find it hard to believe that you cannot learn a routine."

"Yeah, well I can't dance."

"How come?" Luke put his hand on her shoulder. "Dancing is easy. Hell, I can help you with that if you want to give it a shot."

Jami's lips twisted as she looked him over. He wasn't as muscular as Sebastian, but he still had enough bulk that she couldn't picture him dancing. Male dancers were long and lean. "I would pay to see you dance."

"Babe, being a male stripper was my backup plan." He winked and turned to Sebastian. "I'll give it to you, you have a point. Tyler won't say shit, but Demyan? He'll wonder where I took off to and I've
gotta
think up a good cover story. How about we both stay?"

Sebastian nodded, then took her hand and brought it to his lips. "Yes. That would please me. I must admit, I'd prefer not to let you leave me so soon. Most assume subs are the only ones that need aftercare, but after treating you so roughly, I would very much like to hold you while you sleep."

Her cheeks heated as she moved away from Luke and let Sebastian wrap her up in his arms. He
did
want her to stay. Which made her feel special. No one, besides her dad, had made her feel special in a long time.

"Hmm, let me think. Go home to my empty bed or stay here and snuggle with you." She pressed her face against his chest. "Your next game is on Tuesday. You're
gonna
have a hard time getting rid of me before then."

"You might rethink that after tonight." Luke pressed against her from behind. "I can't promise you'll get much sleep."

"She'll sleep well tonight, niño." Sebastian kissed her hair and rested his chin on her head. "I have not decided how much of her I am willing to share. But we may discuss it after you give me the blowjob you promised me."

Luke stuttered and she giggled as she glanced over at him. "Sounds fair to me."

"You're a little pain in the ass, you know that?" Luke stepped away and put his hands on his hips.

Jami shrugged and batted her eyelashes at Sebastian. "Gag him if he snores, '
kay
? Doesn't matter with what."

Sebastian's lips curled with amusement. "I will make sure he does not disturb you." He swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom.

Following them, Luke gave her a dirty look.

She smirked and snuggled close to Sebastian. Whatever Luke was to him, he wasn't competition. What had happened between them was more than ‘one wild night’. Luke wanted it to be more. So did she.

With them both.

Chapter Eight

In the king-sized bed, the dark green comforter tangled around his legs, Luke folded his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling, grey in the darkness. Beside him, Jami slept, curled up on her side, her body flush against Seb's. Her head had been on Luke's shoulder, her hand on his stomach, until he'd shifted away so she wouldn't feel his erection. Or see it tenting up his boxers. Not that she'd notice while she was dead to the world—he grinned as he rubbed her drool from his shoulder—but he didn't want to
chance
her waking up and figuring out that not only her touch made him hard.

He'd been fast asleep when rough, calloused fingers had grazed his thigh. He'd woken up and froze, knowing that those fingers belonged to Seb, holding his breath because they were so close to his cock and if he made a sound they might move closer. Or away. He'd watched Seb's face for the longest time, sure the man was awake, messing with him. But Seb's face remained still. Breaths steady. If he was awake, he would have done more because Luke hadn't made a move to stop him.

Sick thing was, Luke wanted Seb to wake up and take over. Force him to accept his touch the way he'd forced him to accept his kiss and his hand on his dick. Not sick because he had a problem with gays—hell, he was a modern
kinda
guy. Who people fucked was their business.

But I'm not gay.

He groaned out a laugh as he rolled off the bed. Jami had been right. The labels were really screwing with his head. He called himself a Dom, but he'd gotten off on being caned by Chicklet and Wayne—and being . . .
spanked
by Seb. The man had slapped his ass when he made Jami come and damn it, he'd wanted more. When Seb gave a command, he almost obeyed automatically—had to stop himself every time.

But I'm not a sub.

As he'd told Jami, he heard that all the time. From men and women who showed up at the club thinking, since they were tough, they would be the dominant in any relationship they ended up in. He rubbed his face and sighed as he slipped out of the room and crept down the stairs. He paused in the living room, eyes on the sofa where sweat stains still marred the rich brown leather surface. The furnishing in the white walled room was sparse. A sofa, a matching armchair, and a heavy, wrought iron coffee table. A few plants. No TV. Actually, he hadn't seen a single TV in the two story house so far. Not that he'd seen much beyond the living room and bedroom.

In the wide hall, some cool art hung on the white walls. He couldn't name a single painter, but he could tell it was quality. Seb was a classy guy, but everyone knew that. He drove a car worth more than some of the players earned in a lifetime. There were pictures of the 'mystery man' in the tabloids at museums and stuff. With actresses and models, yeah, but it said something that he did more with them than go to movie premieres.

He tried to picture Jami at those places and shook his head. One, Jami didn't fit the image Seb's agent was fixing him up with. Two, he didn't see her being into all that. Not that he knew her well enough to say, but punk rock and Michelangelo didn't mix.

Me and a gay dude don't mix.

He opened a door between the living room and the kitchen and snorted as he took in the walls of books. A man that didn't have a TV had to be a reader, and that fit Seb perfectly. He made his way around the room, trailing his hand over the high back of the black leather chair near the center, picturing Seb sitting there with one of those big books on his bent knee. Smart guy, athletic, all the things a quality chick looked for in a man. And even though Jami had the rocker thing going for her, he knew she was quality. She'd want a guy who had more going for him than what he laid out on the ice.

Why do you care? You don't really know this girl!

But he wanted to. He'd teased her a bit when he'd run into her at the forum, but until he'd caught sight of her at the club, they hadn't really connected. Dating a woman who didn't do kink for months made Jami damn appealing. And she wasn't scared of him. She didn't even seem to care that he was a hockey player, which was damn refreshing.

Yeah. Perfect rebound material.

The scar on his lip, running in a jagged line down his chin, seemed bigger as he rubbed it, recalling how Jami had gazed up at him as though she didn’t see it. She’d probably been too worked up to notice. And even if she had, she was too young to really think about the impact of having a man like him in her life might have. Not like she was thinking about long term with him anyway.

Not like he wanted her to. She was a good kid. She deserved better.

We can have fun for a little while though.

If Seb let them.

Shaking his head, he moved towards a bookshelf and picked up the first familiar book,
Strangers by Dean Koontz.
On another shelf, he found a bottle of Jamaican rum and a tumbler which he filled before bringing the book and the glass to the chair.

"I have sports books."

Luke arched a brow as Seb slipped into the room. He gave Seb a dry smile. "No picture books? With real big words?"

"I'm afraid not." Seb came to stand in front of him and lifted the book to see the cover. "I wouldn't have taken you for a fan of Koontz. This isn't one of his best."

"It's my favorite. All those people trying to piece together the weird shit that's happening to them. Lots of suspense. Couldn't put it down once I picked it up. Shocked my mom when I read it in just three days."

 
"So you haven't read it recently?"

"
Naw
, when I was thirteen." Luke took a sip of rum, then gestured to Seb with the glass. "I hope you don't mind that I helped myself?"

"Not at all. I'd tell you to make yourself comfortable, but you've done that already."

"Yeah, sorry, bad habit." He grinned. "Bunnies hate it when they bring me home and find me checking out their
Vagisil
and shit in the bathroom. I figure, once I've had my tongue up your ass, 'privacy' is
kinda
a mute point."

Seb's eyes widened. Then he chuckled. "Well, since I haven't had
that
pleasure, should I assume you won't invade my privacy?"

Choking on a mouthful of rum, Luke stared at him. "You had your hand on my balls—
aaannnd
,
umm, yeah, let's not talk about that. Want to talk about the playoffs? Think Mason's knee is solid enough?"

 
"I never discuss the playoffs until twenty-four hours before the game. It's superstitious nonsense, like—" He grazed Luke's scruffy cheek with his knuckles. "Not shaving during the playoffs. I noticed you started early."

"Yeah, well I shaved twice as often before, hoping it would help my beard grow faster once I stopped." He swallowed, unable to help leaning into Seb's touch. "You think it will work?"

"It's hard to tell." Seb crouched to eye level and traced Luke's jaw with his fingers in a way that made him shiver. His thumb brushed his bottom lip. "The growth is pretty even, no patchy spots that I can see. I doubt you'll make the rankings for worst playoff beards."

"Thanks."

"So, why was your mother so shocked that you finished the book quickly?" Seb straightened and leaned a muscular forearm on the back of the chair. "She must have seen you read like that before?"

Luke grinned and shook his head. "Nope, not unless it was for school, and I grabbed the movie for reports every chance I got. My grades were
sucky
and my mom threatened not to let me play hockey anymore if I didn't get them up. My English marks were the worse, so I made her a deal. I would write an extra report, and if I got an A, she'd let me play. My English teacher agreed, under one condition. I had to choose a book over four hundred pages."

"You took that as a challenge?"

"Damn straight I did. And I got my A. My mom was so happy, she nagged my dad until he got me two new sticks. And not the cheap ones." He thumbed the pages of the book and smiled, recalling how every single one of Koontz's books had sat in a box beside the sticks on the kitchen table. "You see, my dad played hockey most his life—only made it to the minors though. He didn't finish school and had no other plans. So when he got injured, he couldn't get a good job. My mom was scared I'd do the same thing. She cried when I graduated high school, and cried some more when I got a scholarship to the University of Minnesota. Made her happy that she didn't raise a dumb jock."