Page 23 of Pucking Obsessed

I glare harder at Heine.

Finally, Heine glances over his shoulder at me and catches my look.

To my surprise, he doesn’t quail but only looks smugger.

What’s he planning?

If he tries to go after Robyn or Shay, I’m going to fucking destroy him.

I dart a glance at Robyn, who is at my shoulder.

She looks beautiful as always, despite the crumpled mess of her suit and tangled curls.

She is chewing her lip, nervously.

I wish that I could reach over and release her tortured lip. No one’s allowed to leave teeth imprints in that gorgeous plush lip but me.

Instead, I brush my fingers against Robyn’s. Her gaze shoots to me, and she relaxes.

It’s precisely twenty-two minutes past the time that Robyn should have been lying on the couch with her head in my lap and those lips stretched around my cock.

We should be comfortable in the warmth of my beach house.

It’s precisely seven minutes past the time that I had a whole scene planned, which included me dressed in Robyn’s favorite role play outfit: a tight horse riding outfit complete with riding crop.

I intended to continue her training with Eden’s help.

She’d have been writhing with pleasure under the kiss of my crop, rather than shivering under the judgmental stares of our bosses.

Robyn has so much power, when she offers me her willing submission.

I was born dominant in the same way that I was born bisexual. My power exchange relationships have been the most healthy and positive part of my life.

At least, with one small exception…thesmallowner of this club, who is currently using his business position to squeeze my balls.

I run my hand through my curls in frustration.

Heine saunters to the head of the table, throwing himself down into the leather chair.

Colton, our hard-ass assistant coach, is sitting on Heine’s right side.

Colton puts the team through hell.

Most practices, one of the team ends up puking.

This is what happens when you put someone who played junior ice hockey and never got over failing to make the selection in tryouts to the NHL in charge of pros.

It’s earned Colton the nickname Stick No Carrot.

Now in his mid-thirties, Colton is as tall as me but broader. His arms are crossed over his barrel chest. He has neat whiteblond hair and a mustache that looks like a fuzzy caterpillar that’s crept onto his top lip and died.

Heine exchanges a glance with Colton, who shoves a hefty file in front of the club’s owner.

Excellent, the world’s biggest dick of a coach is cozy with the biggest dick of a club owner.

Sociopaths unite.

Heine sprawls back, resting his feet on the table.

---