“What are yo-fuck!” she shouts as I begin to make my first cut on the side of her leg where her hip and thigh meet. Blood pools at the tip of the night, Lennon’s screams echoing in theroom. Halfway through the letter D, I look up at both Sasha and Holden.
“I suggest you shut her up before someone calls the cops.”
“Move,” Sasha grumbles, pushing a disgruntled Holden out of the way. Gripping her hair tightly, he rips her head towards him, not giving her a second to protest as he forces his cock into her throat. Sasha is the complete opposite of Holden’s gentleness. Or what I would consider gentle for a Beta that presents one too many Alpha qualities.
Sasha is roughly. Forceful. The kind of man who takes what he wants without question.
It's hot.
With Lennon’s mouth filled with cock, I am able to continue carving my name into her flesh. Crimson drips down her legs, the sight doing something to me. Dragging something dark from inside of me. Something I have never felt before. But it calls to me. Makes me want things that I have thought could be possible.
Finishing the ‘C’, I drop the blade back onto the table absently. I can’t focus on anything but the sight of my name carved into my Omega's flesh. The ultimate kind of claim, aside from a bite on the side of her neck. The sound of her cries, mixed with undeniable pleasure, tears through the room, raw enough to send goosebumps across my heated skin. It doesn’t echo so much as linger, clinging to the concrete walls, and I just know that whenever I’m in here, I’ll hear it over and over and over again. I should stop this. Put distance between myself and the man I am around her, but loyalty roots my feet to the floor, and desire has me silently begging for more.
“You are mine, Lennon. Try walking away from me now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lennon
Ican’t pinpoint the exact moment everything changed. The moment my life stopped belonging to me. At first, I hadn’t noticed it. I had been far too oblivious, focused on work in the days that followed them.
Sasha, Holden, and Dominic.
The claiming.
Because that is what it was. They claimed me. Not in a traditional way. Not with a mating bite of the side of my neck and a knot swelling my pussy. But with the jagged cuts from the blade of a skate. The pain was unimaginable as Dominic carved himself into my skin. I think what surprised me more than anything was the pleasure that came along with it. The way slick had seemed to seep from my cunt, drenching Holden in my essence.
I had been forced to anchor myself so that I didn’t completely lose my mind.
They had almost destroyed me.
What is even worse, though, is that I enjoyed it. The feeling of being claimed in such a brutal, primal way sang to somethinginside of me. Something new and foreign, but exciting all in the same breath. Something that still, weeks later, has me filled with need.
But amongst that, I also feel confused.
Because there has been nothing more physical. No more lingering touches. No more moments in equipment rooms. No more late night visits to my office. If anything, they have grown distant. Watching me from afar. I had thought that night would change something between us. Maybe it did in some way. But not the way I was expecting. That look of ire I had become so used to seeing in Sasha’s eyes had changed. There was still an anger there, one that I couldn’t understand the reasoning behind, but there was this heat too. One that had every single nerve ending set alight in my body.
I could feel Holden’s stare lingering on me during every practice. It was heavy and held the prospect of something more that never came. But it still made me feel undeniably lost. Lost to him. A feeling always ended up in breathy moans, an arched back, and a hand with a box of toys that didn’t quite do what I knew he could.
And Dominic? Fuck. Just the thought of him has my brain doing three-sixties. Out of the three men, I didn’t think that he would be the hardest to read. But he is. Every time I think I can get a read on him, his expression changes before he leaves the room again, giving me a whole lot of nothing.
The blaring of the horn echoes through the arena, startling me out of my thoughts.
Right. The game.
With twenty-eight wins and only four losses to the season so far, I have never been more proud of myself or the team that I inherited. While the losses sting, the feeling of seeing our name at the top of the Eastern Conference scoreboard is a hugeachievement. One that the media is already saying will go down in history.
Not only for a female coach to be so successful, but it is also a feat for a female coach to be such a success in their debut year.
I haven’t let the headlines get to me. While some have been positive, there have been far more who have questioned me and my ability. Even more so at the first game we lost.
Ronnie tried to remind me that I am not solely responsible for the team's success that night. They also carry a sense of responsibility for keeping the scoreboard in our favor.
I watch as Sasha and Burk work alongside each other, fighting to keep the Storm out of the defending zone. Eventually, Sasha makes a steal, passing the puck on to an awaiting Carver, who takes it back into the offensive zone.
I watch with bated breath as he runs through the play we have been practicing all week, one that I wasn’t sure if they would ever get the hang of. But with sheer fucking luck, Carver pulls his stick back before sending the puck straight into the left side of the goal, seeing the first points on the board for the night.
I cheer, giving Carver an approving nod as he comes back over to the bench after a quick celebration.
