BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (5 page)

The way the sky haired beauty had knelt and stared up at him made him feel pure, raw lust for the first time in what seemed like forever. He could already see his marks on her lightly tanned flesh, from his belt, his whip, his fingers digging into her hips . . .

Teeth grazed him and he sucked in a deep, calming breath. "Don't move."

Thrusting hard, Sebastian let his mind latch onto taking the girl and grunted as the pressure built up in his balls and exploded through his cock. He threw his head back as he came.

Henry was on his feet before Sebastian's dick stopped throbbing. "Fuck, that was . . . just seeing you getting off because of me . . . ."

Too easy. The man hadn’t found his own release. Sebastian shook his head and went to the supply table between the black curtained windows, removing the condom and using a wipe to clean himself. He disposed of the wipe and the condom, then pulled up his shorts. "I am not a selfish lover, Henry. Give me a few moments and I will—"

"Fuck man, I would, but . . . ." Henry scratched his jaw. "My boyfriend won't mind me sucking you off, he'll get it. But if I let you fuck me . . . well, that would bother him."

Boyfriend?
Sebastian laughed.
Eros
estupido
, Ramos.
Had he really bought the 'I'm not gay' line? It wasn't the first time a man had used it, and likely wouldn't be the last. He got off on seducing straight men, and there was the added bonus of discretion—perhaps word was getting around . . . ? No, the tabloids were still speculating about his preferences and none of the men on the team had mentioned it. And they would if they thought he was gay. A man on his team in LA had come out and the players never treated him the same. No one spoke of it. Or really spoke to him. The man had looked relieved when he was traded. Sebastian hadn't felt the same when the Kings had made no effort to keep him. Apparently suspicions were enough. He knew very well he wasn't being traded because he didn't help improve the team. His agent told him not to worry about it, but how could he not? He'd proved himself, damn it. But his personal choices were enough to ruin him.

"Hey, could I have something of yours as . . . you know, a souvenir?" Henry dropped his gaze when Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "Just for me. I won't tell no one."

Letting out a sound of disgust, Sebastian went to his abandoned pile of clothes, a white tank top and dress shirt, and tossed the sweat stained tank top to the man. "I suggest you don't."

His teammates would likely be surprised to know that puck bunnies weren't exclusively female. Bile rose in his throat as he imagined Henry and his boyfriend discussing how he'd done someone on his 'list'. Using his tank top in their fantasies. Any guilt he'd had over his rough usage of Henry disappeared. Nothing he'd done would make Henry feel cheap.

A soft rap on the door spilled hope over his bitterness. Maybe it was her. And now that he wasn't trapped in a haze of lust, he would be able to handle her with the delicacy she obviously needed. Loose women never made him wait. Perhaps, for once, he had found a woman worth more than a brief interlude on a day that didn't have a game to stir his blood.

Anyone worth more would be a nice change.

"I would like a moment to acquaint myself with the girl before we start, if you do not mind." Sebastian considered his rumpled dress shirt, wondering if he should put it back on so as not to intimidate the girl. His size seemed to scare away the sweet ones.

Henry nodded distractedly as he pulled his cell from the pocket of his slacks. "I'll tell Chantelle to give you two a bit before she comes in."

Sebastian picked up his shirt as Henry opened the door. His 'mi cielo' stepped into the office, her hands clasped over her tiny black skirt, her head bowed. Shy, perhaps?

"I did it!" Henry shouted as he slipped out and slammed the door behind him.

The muscles in his jaw ached as he ground his teeth. He moved to pull on his shirt, then paused as the girl whispered, "don't bother."

He dropped his shirt and turned slowly. "Mi cielo—"

"Jami."

"Jami." A soft smile curved his lips. "Come. Sit with me." He drew two chairs away from the table and turned them facing one another. Held his hand out for her to sit.

She moved towards him, her gaze brushing over his bare chest, darting down, then snapping back up. "You're all shiny."

"Yes." He chuckled when a charming, pink glow spread over her cheeks. The girl was reacting to him physically—probably in a way she didn't fully understand. He had to be very
very
careful not to let it frighten her. "For the cameras. They will put some on you as well."

"Why?"

He waited until she settled down in one chair, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt over her thighs. Her hands flattened over the hem of her skirt as though she didn't trust it to stay in place. He reached out and ran his fingertips lightly over the back of her hand.

"To give you a wet look."

Her eyes widened and her blush deepened. "Did they do that to the other girls?"

"They did. But you have nothing to worry about. The photographer is a woman and she will slick the oil over your flesh herself. I have told her how I want you positioned with me. I will hardly touch you at all."

The pulse along the curve of her throat quickened. "Where will you touch me?"

Standing, he moved behind her, slowly, very slowly, and curved his hand around the nape of her neck. "Only here."

She drew in a rough inhale. "And how will I be positioned?"

Smiling, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "On your knees."

* * * *

'On your knees'.
Jami shuddered. Damn, what the hell was she supposed to do with that? Or with the fact that she could already see herself, kneeling before Sebastian, waiting for . . .

Waiting for what? Since when did she wait for what she wanted?
 
Did she really want to grovel to the man just to get a taste of him? No
freakin
' way. She wouldn't rush anything, but she wasn't a damn shrinking violet. At very least she had to show Sebastian that he didn't have to treat her like an innocent virgin. Or a sub.

God, please not that.
She wasn't supposed to know much about what her dad did at his club, but she knew enough. People talked. And the whole BDSM thing
kinda
freaked her out.

Twisting from his light hold on her neck, she rose, and knelt up on the chair. Her lips curled into a provocative smile. "I never get on my knees before a nice steak dinner, big boy."

 
His brow lifted slightly. Then he smiled. "Steak sounds like an excellent idea. I will take you out to dinner after the photo shoot."

She
pursed
her lips. "Are you asking me out?"

"I don't believe I worded it as a question."

A sharp laugh escaped her and she shifted position to sit sideways on the chair. "That's just rude."

"Is it?" He folded his massive arms over his bare chest. "You made a proposition. I accepted. I do not see how that's rude."

Licking her lips, she let her gaze drift over his bulging
pecs
. His attitude made her feel reckless and she lifted her hand to touch his slick, lightly tanned flesh. "You think that was a proposition? I'll show you—"

He caught her wrist. "No."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"There is no hurry, mi cielo. If you do not want to be on your knees for the photo shoot, we can try something else." He moved away from her as the door inched opened with a hesitate tap. "We are ready, Chantelle."

Jami stood and straightened her skirt. Chewing on her bottom lip as the tall, pinched face woman clucked her tongue at Sebastian and applied more oil to his flesh, she tried to figure out what to do with the man. She knew what she
wanted
to do with him, hell, her panties were already uncomfortably damp. And playing hard to get was not working for her. Apparently, it wasn't even necessary.
He'd
already decided to set the pace.

And you're going to let him?
Yeah right. She hid a smirk behind her hand and quickly schooled her features as Chantelle approached.

"Mr. Ramos tells me you're not comfortable with the initial set up. I want this to look as natural and . . . ." Chantelle's thin lips pressed together. "Sexy, as possible. So here's my suggestion. Mr. Ramos will pose by the window and you will take whatever stance works for you. We already have one set with the redhead that is rather sensual, but it's missing something. I think you have just what I'm looking for."

The woman seemed so stiff, like a teacher she'd had in high school who went on and on about how girls were 'proper' and 'refined' a century ago, moaning about how girls today were crass and had no values. But unlike the teacher, Chantelle didn't look at her like she was some punk. She looked at her with an artist's eye, making Jami feel like she wasn't a freak. Like she was . . . well, at least interesting.

Sebastian looked at her like that too. But his steady regard, even now, was somehow both carnal and reserved. Damn confusing.

Jami nodded at Chantelle, thinking about the pictures with the redhead—probably Amy. "So just do what feels natural?"

Chantelle nodded and pointed at Sebastian, then at one of the large windows near the back of the room. "Over there, hands on your hips. We'll try a few shots and I'll tell you if I want you to change your posture. For now, I'd like to see you as almost aloof. If you can manage it."

Giving the photographer a curt nod, Sebastian took his place. Hands on his hips, strong, sharply angled jaw held high, like a Spanish conquistador standing over his vast holdings. He followed instructions well for such a dominant man. Jami smothered a giggle with her hand and caught a wink from Chantelle.

"Go ahead," the woman said.

A few quick steps brought her right in front of him. His size—fuck, he was so much bigger than her!—made her pause for a second before she splayed her hand over his chest, sliding her palm over his slick flesh, exploring the hard slopes of muscles as she'd wanted to since she'd first laid eye on him months ago in that magazine.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't move.

She took a deep breath and eased her body against his, one knee bent over his thighs, her arm around his waist, her hand gliding down until it rested right over his simple, silver belt buckle. As she gazed up at him, her lips parting at the warning in his eyes. She'd gone too far.

"Try not to look so mean, Mr. Ramos. You have an adoring woman clinging to you, doing exactly what every woman who sees this picture would
love
to do. There we go." Chantelle picked up her camera as Sebastian's expression softened. Almost tender, except for his eyes which darkened with lust. A flash. Then another. "Perfect! Now, Jami, press against him so he can feel every inch of you. You've taken a seductive pose. Own it."

Jami nodded and wet her bottom lip with her tongue. She let her fingers slip just under the waist of his jeans, curved her other hand over his side. Her lips hovered close to his chest as she continued to stare up at him.

His stomach muscles tensed and his jaw ticked.

Chantelle didn't see it. More flashing and murmured approval. From a distance, then up so close purple dots spotted Jami's vision.

"All right, we're done!" Chantelle sounded exhausted, and relieved. "I must say, I'm happy there's so much chemistry between you two. The redhead sitting on his lap was a disaster. It was obvious he wanted to dump her on the floor—"

Laughing, Jami dropped her hands to her sides and gave Sebastian some space. "Did you?"

"I may have considered it." Sebastian went to the sole table in the room and grabbed the plain, white dress shirt he'd abandoned earlier. He pulled it on and turned to Chantelle. "So you are finished with us?"

"Yes." Chantelle put her camera in its case and waved them on. "Enjoy your night."

Jami left the room ahead of Sebastian, not sure why she suddenly felt nervous. She spun around, walking backwards, watching him, trying to figure out whether or not her teasing had pissed him off. But he was unreadable. They rode down on the elevator in silence. She made it to her car, ready to give up on him, when he came up behind her.

He held the door to her classic, pale blue Beetle shut and spoke softly. "Where do you think you're going?"

She couldn't help but squeak a little as she turned to face him. "Home?"

"Oh no, pet. You suggested dinner." His smooth, alluring tone dropped to a growl. "I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

Suddenly, she was starving. But they weren't talking about food, were they? She certainly hoped not anyway. "Yes, I am."

"Good. Then come with me." He took her hand, glancing back when she hesitated. "You haven't decided to play shy with me now, have you?"

"I never play at anything." She jerked free, hating the way she half wanted to follow him around like a little puppy and beg for whatever scraps of attention he felt like giving her. Even her frown felt forced over the simpering smile trying to take its place. This wasn't like her. "I'm pretty upfront. You good with that?"

 
He kept his hand out, palm up, and regarded her calmly as though to say 'are you done yet?'. But out loud he said. "Yes, Jami. I am 'good with that'. What confuses me is why you are so reluctant to let me hold your hand when you were so eager to touch me before."

"Because you weren't being grabby then." She took his hand and stepped up to his side. "You may take me to dinner now."

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "May I?"

She gave him a regal nod. "Yes you may."

He chuckled and led her to his car at the other end of the parking garage. She stopped, releasing his hand. And approached the car with a sense of reverent awe.

The Aston Martin One 77. A silver masterpiece in a modern tear shaped design, constructed to fly across the road with little resistance from the wind. Very few modern cars were this beautiful. This magnificent.

"This is impossible." She shook her head and scowled at him. "Do you know how much this car is worth?"