Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7) (15 page)

White was full of surprises though. He lifted his head to meet Pischlar’s eyes, his stance relaxed. Which probably had a lot to do with trust. The man wasn’t his best friend for nothing.

“I’ll take it. And I’ll stop fu—messing this up.” He gave Sahara an apologetic look. “I’m like a bear in a tea shop. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.”

Damn, he’s adorable.
She was used to bigger men being rough and gruff and mean. Well, the ones she’d known through…

Nope, no thinking of
him!

Anyway, White was different. Kinda fitting that he’d screwed up the old saying “bull in a china shop”. He was more a bear than a bull. A big teddy bear she just wanted to cuddle up with.

If the teddy bear was really, really hot.

Pischlar laughed. “White, take off the towel and get back in position before she decides to pet you rather than screw around with you. She’s got that tender look on her face that she gets when she’s playing with Luke’s puppy.”

Sahara ducked her head when White’s cheeks reddened. Damn Pischlar for reading her so well.

“You sure know how to make a man feel good, Pisch.” White dropped the towel, then thunked down on his knees before Sahara even got a chance to catch a glimpse of the whole package.

Darn it
.

Before White could shackle her wrists in his hands again, Pischlar grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged his head back. He spoke with his lips close to White’s. “I can make a man feel very good. And I will. And you’re going to regret every single second of it. Because while we’re going to make Sahara come so hard and so often she won’t be able to stand, you won’t be getting off, no matter how much you beg.”

“Why the fuck not?” White tried to pull free, but Pischlar’s muscles tensed as he tightened his hold.

“Punishments are rarely fun. Still want to play?”

“With how determined you seem to be to get me to back down? You’re damn right, I’m still playing.”

Wrists held, eyes closed, Sahara tried to brace herself for Pischlar’s full attention falling on her. She heard gloves snap and swallowed hard.

“Keep your eyes closed,
Schatz
.” He trailed a finger over her belly, a small, slightly cool and moist line.

Which grew colder, then heated. And continued heating. She squirmed as the heat spread.

“How does that feel? And White, don’t you dare let her go.”

Sahara inhaled, putting the sensation in perspective so she could give an honest answer. “It almost burns, but it’s not horrible.”

A soft laugh and Pischlar ran his hands up over her ribs. “Good girl. How about this?”

His hands were covered with the stuff. She gasped as the cooling turned hotter and hotter. His hands circled her breasts and she whimpered. He wouldn’t…?

He did. Her back bowed as he rubbed the gel-like substance over her nipples. They hardened and the sharp, tingling feeling expanded, making her pant as she fought for some relief from the lick of flames that tormented her.

“Oh fuck!” She tugged at her wrists and White’s grip tightened. So much for him not being all that submissive. He was following orders perfectly. “Pischlar, please!”

“Please what, pet?” He blew on her nipples, and she almost shot off the table. “Does that help?”

Evil man!
Sahara groaned as the air cooled, then heated her flesh all over again. She didn’t realize Pischlar had stopped until she felt cold metal against her hip.
Snip
. Then again on the other side.
Snip.

Her panties were pulled away.

“They were so pretty too. I promise, I’ll replace them.” Pischlar’s tone was full of laughter. He was having way too much fun torturing her, but she hesitated to call him a sadist.

This wasn’t pain. Exactly.

Close enough though.

“Keep your hands where they are, Sahara. White, can you let her go for a sec and open this for me?”

The low whistle White let out didn’t mean anything good. “Are you for real?”

“Yes. But you’re going to have to wait your turn. I can tell you’re curious.”

“Maybe…” White cursed softly, then returned to restrain her. “Brace yourself, baby.”

Her thighs were spread far enough to accommodate Pischlar’s shoulders. She heard a crunching, which seemed out of place.

White cursed again.

Pischlar’s mouth closed over her clit.

At first, all she felt was the erotic teasing of his tongue. A sigh of pleasure escaped her. Her clit throbbed and sparks of heat raced up her nerves. It felt so good, she forgot about the burning sensation still covering her breasts.

Until the fire spread to her clit, much more intense than the flames hovering over the rest of her. Her lips parted and her hips bucked. Her core clenched as everything came together, overwhelming her resistance, leaving her with no choice but to experience everything at once, to be aware of every inch of her skin. All alive and sensitive and sparking with pleasure on the edge of agony.

Echoing
snaps
. The gloves. Pischlar’s bare hand touched her thigh. Comforting her.

“Where are we,
Schatz
?”

Where?
Sahara frowned, then realized what Pischlar was asking. “Green, Sir.”

“Very good. You may come when you please this first time.” He kissed her thigh, then pushed something hard deep into her pussy. A long, slick dildo. Before she could adjust, he had the vibrations going. He licked her clit, pumping the solid rod in hard and fast.

She couldn’t hold anything back. She tossed her head, screaming as the heat, the rough, fucking motion, and the manipulations of his tongue brought her to a fierce climax that held her in the throes of pleasure for so long she wasn’t sure it would ever end.

But it did, fading slowly, leaving her twitching every time Pischlar shifted the dildo. When he withdrew it, she gasped through her parted lips, jumping when he ran two fingers over her pussy, wetting his fingers with her juices.

“You may open your eyes now, Sahara.” He smiled at her when she opened her eyes. Then he turned to White. “Let her go. And open your mouth.”

The second White let her go, Sahara sat up. She was still tender, but her curiosity overrode the lingering pleasure. Pischlar was so tempting, offering up his fingers like a special treat. He was handling White like a puppet on a string, but Sahara didn’t see it as a bad thing. White wouldn’t be going along with the game if he weren’t interested.

He just needed a few hard shoves in the right direction.

Knowing this, she wasn’t all that surprised when he looked at her while he sucked on Pischlar’s fingers. She leaned forward, licking her lips just as he was. She could sense Pischlar was trying to carefully draw White deeper into the scene. Her need to please him had her wishing she could help.

“Stand up,
bärchen
.” Pischlar stepped back to give White some space. Then he motioned to her. “Let’s see if you do as well holding him as he did for you, Sahara.”

There was no hesitation in White’s movements, but plenty in his eyes. Sahara had no clue how she’d hold him if he didn’t want to keep still. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and her fingers didn’t touch. Her grip was weak.

Restraint was symbolic though. White was being given a chance to prove he could submit. She’d never understood why a Dom would want to train by first being a submissive, but there were probably reasons behind it. Reasons that made her uncomfortable, because she didn’t want to imagine any of those she’d happily kneel to kneeling to anyone else.

But seeing White struggling to give up control didn’t bother her.

Weird.

Donning fresh gloves, Pischlar picked up a container of balm from where he’d left it on the sofa. He approached White as he dipped his finger in. “Don’t move.”

And White didn’t budge, but he inhaled sharply as Pischlar drew a line of the icy-hot balm across his pelvis. He groaned as Pischlar covered his chest with it, jerking at the attention Pischlar paid to his nipples.

“Fuck that burns,” White muttered, his fists clenching below where Sahara held his wrists. “Other than torturing me, what do you get out of this, Easy?”

Pischlar moved in closer to whisper in White’s ear. “You’re taking it because I’ve asked it of you. I control everything you feel. Discomfort and pleasure and pain. It gives me a fucking high to know I can give you everything, or nothing.”

Whatever Pischlar did next had White dropping his head back and groaning. Sahara tried to get a better look, clenching her thighs at the wave of lust that ran over her when she saw Pischlar’s hand between White’s thighs.

She’d seen submissive men before, but few were as big and tough as White. She could picture him with a whip in his hands. Toying with a bound sub, his powerful body working as he fucked her.

But under Pischlar’s command, he was like a tame wolf. One you expected to snarl rather than come to heel. Rather than making White seem tame, the whole scene proved that Pischlar was fucking good at what he did.

She wasn’t sure whether she should be scared for, or jealous of, the person he someday decided to claim.

The way White fought to hold still, Sahara could tell he was getting close to climax. She kissed the back of his shoulder, quietly hoping Pischlar would stop teasing, forget the punishment, and give the man his release.

A hard pounding at the door ruined any chance of that. White eased out of her grip and headed for the bathroom—likely to grab his clothes. Pischlar reached down and tossed Sahara her shirt, bra, and skirt.

Her panties were done for, but she got everything else on in record time as Pischlar went to see who had come by for a visit in the middle of the night.

“Where is she?” Ford’s voice came from the hall, nice and calm.

He must be alone. If Akira or Cort had come with him, they’d be pushing into the house and making a damn scene.

“Won’t you come in, Ford?” Pischlar sounded like he got visits around two a.m. every night. And didn’t mind at all. “I’m assuming you won’t be allowed to sleep until you make sure Sahara’s in one piece?”

Ford grunted, stepping in with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. “Something like that.”

Sahara folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “If you knew where I was, you knew I was safe. This is ridiculous.”

With narrowed eyes, Ford looked from her to the toy bag on the floor. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “You were assaulted two nights ago and neither of your closest friends have heard from you. Akira has been on the phone all night with Jami and Silver. She needs to see for herself that you’re really all right. For all she knew, you had gotten drunk and were letting whoever was nice take advantage of you.”

“I haven’t gotten drunk in months!” Sahara’s face heated as rage simmered in her veins. She wasn’t sure exactly why she was so mad. She loved that her friends cared, but she was an adult. She could take care of herself!

Clearly.
A snarky voice in the back of her head found her funny.

She ignored it. “I appreciate the concern, but as you can see, I’m fine. Please tell Akira I’ll call her in the morning.”

“She’s still up. How about you call her now?” Ford pulled out a cigarette, put it between his lips, but didn’t light it. Hopefully that meant he would be leaving soon. “Maybe you think it’s unreasonable, but with what Akira went through herself, she’s imagining the worst. Please tell me you get that?”

Fuck
. Sahara swallowed hard and nodded, going to her purse to get her phone. Akira had been raped when she was a teenager. She was in such a good place now that it was easy to forget how far she’d come. They had done self-defense courses together and exchanged horror stories. There was nothing they didn’t talk about.

But the second Sahara had issues with Grant, she’d gotten back into the same old habits. She’d pushed away the people closest to her.

Only, this time, she’d known she was doing it.

The first ring hadn’t even finished before Akira picked up. She spoke so softly, Sahara could hardly hear her. “Sahara? I didn’t tell him to go, I swear.”

Turning away from the men, Sahara pressed her fingers to her lips. “Even if you had, I…damn it, I really screwed up. I didn’t want to tell you what happened because of Cort’s reaction when he saw me with Grant. I was afraid he’d kill him.”

“He wouldn’t get a chance. If I ever get my hands on that man, I’ll—”

“You’re going to stay away from him. I’m pressing charges. I don’t want any of my friends paying for my stupidity.”

Releasing a soft sigh, Akira hesitated, then cleared her throat. “Why Pischlar? He’s a nice guy, but he’s temporary. You need a future, babe.”

“I’m not ready for a future. I need right now.” Sahara wasn’t sure how much she should share, but she’d held back enough. So she just told Akira everything. “I talked to Dominik and he was cool with me coming here. He told me to ‘take what I need.’”

Akira groaned. “Damn Doms. All right, fine. Have fun. But you can’t keep putting your life on hold. One of these days, you’ll have to start living it.”