Chapter 16 #2
I nod; my chest tightens at the memory. “It was after the last game of my first season. We won, and I scored the winning goal. I wanted to go out and celebrate. The team didn’t invite me with them, but I took a job with an agency to earn the money to go for a curry and beer with Dee.
Some rich bloke was holding a private party in a room like this.
The agency liked to employ pretty college girls and boys for jobs like that.
The dad was embarrassed when he saw me dressed up in a server’s outfit, ready to serve champagne, and recognized me as his son’s teammate. ”
Robyn pales. “It was the team’s victory party…?”
I look away. “Sucks, right?”
“Did you leave?”
I stare at her.
Sometimes I forget that she’s never experienced what it’s like to have no money. What it’s like to not know whether you’ll be able to eat the next day. What it’s like to make choices between school books and replacing clothes that are falling apart.
“It was my job, love,” I explain, gently.
“If I’d just walked out, then the agency wouldn’t have given me more work.
Plus, I’d promised my brother that we would go out to celebrate and I never break promises to Dee.
The dad tried to make awkward small talk with me, praising my goals.
The rest of the team got pissed and spent the entire night pretending that they didn’t know me, while ordering me around.
” I feel sick at the memory. “Afterward, the Dad took me aside and apologized. He tried to stuff a fifty pound into my hand like money made up for his son’s behavior. ”
“Did you take it?”
I give a crooked smile. “Of course I did, love. It paid for my meal out with my brother.”
Robyn truly has no idea what I would endure…what I have endured…for the people I love.
For something as simple as food.
Robyn wrings her hands together. “No one expects you to do anything that you don’t want to do anymore. You get that, right? There are no strings attached to this new life.”
“I know.”
Except, is that ever true?
Robyn strolls to the snooker table.
“I should have guessed that D’Angelo would have somewhere like this to come with his friends.
Can’t you just imagine them standing around here with their whiskeys?
Actually…” She turns to the snooker table, running her hand over the blue baize.
“I can imagine something more wicked like D’Angelo bending someone naughty over here, while dressed in his riding outfit like a Victorian gentleman, and using his riding crop on them. ”
My cock instantly hardens.
Robyn leans over the table, as if she’s imagining herself in the position of the naughty servant waiting for the kiss of D’Angelo’s crop.
I can’t help but palm my crotch to relieve the pressure.
“You’re killing me here.” My head falls back. “I would love to feel what that would be like. I’d also love to watch you just like you are now, wet and writhing with pleasure, while D’Angelo…”
I break off, forcing myself not to finish the thought and myself in my pants.
How can Robyn do this to me so easily?
She grins mischievously, resting back against the table. “Do you want to play a game?”
I arch my brow, my natural competitiveness flaring. “You’re on.”
I stride to the wall, lifting off the two wooden snooker cues.
I wince, when I swing them around and they slam against the arcade machine. “Whoops, they’re longer than I thought. No wonder gangsters in London, or movie ones at least, use these as weapons.”
“I’m guessing that you haven’t played before.” Robyn grabs the black ball, positioning it in front of the back pocket. “Unless you’re hustling me.”
“I have a feeling that you’re the one who is hustling me.” I clutch the cues, walking back to the table. “I haven’t played snooker or pool before, unless you count watching the legend Ronnie O’Sullivan play because then, I’ve seen the best player on TV. Does that count?”
“Nope, or I’d also be incredible on skates, since I’ve been watching the best ice hockey players since I was a kid, when in fact I facepalm the moment that I’m on the ice.”
“So,” I pass her one of the cues, “can you play?”
“Not really. I’ve played some pool with Neve. I can teach you.”
My heart beats faster, and I press close to her. “I like the sound of that, love.”
She points at the black ball. “Let’s keep the game simple. First to sink it in that pocket will be pleasured by the other over the table.”
“Oh, love. Who is the true winner in that game?” I mouth at her neck. “But this is the first time that I’ve picked up a cue.”
“And the last time I played pool, I hit the ball too hard and knocked it off the table into someone’s drink.”
“Then this will be a game between the greats.”
She chuckles throatily. “Chalk the cues first.”
She picks up a small, green chalk that is on the edge of the table and chalks the tips of the snooker cues.
I like to pretend that it will make me hit the ball like a pro.
It won’t.
“Bend over the table,” Robyn encourages me, leaning over with me. “You get the first go. There, that’s right. Lean over more. Feet shoulder-width apart. Point your right foot toward the pocket that’s your target.”
“Like this?” I shift.
She nods. “Good. Bend your front knee slightly.”
My breathing speeds up, as her hand gently traces up my arm, adjusting my grip.
It’s intimate in a whole new way.
I turn my head to catch her eye, and she smiles.
“Adjust your grip hand.” She gently moves my hand. “It needs to be about six inches from the butt end.” She slides her hand back down my arm, and my skin goosebumps. My balls ache. “Then keep the grip in this hand delicate. Glide the cue between your thumb and index finger, okay?”
She’s good at this.
My skin tingles. But I’m also relaxed.
In this position, my cheeks flush because I can’t help fantasizing about Robyn pegging me, while I take my shot.
It’s the perfect position.
Now that’s what I call motivation.
“Are you ready?” She takes a step back.
“You know that you just helped your rival, right?”
“I know that my rival’s tight ass looks amazing at this angle.”
My flush deepens.
See, perfect for pegging.
I narrow my eyes, focusing on the black ball.
It looks a frightening distance away.
Determined, I hit the ball as hard as I can.
It spins across the table, missing the black and ricocheting across the back of the snooker table, before slowly spinning back toward me.
I straighten. “I kept it on the table. I will take that as a win.”
Robyn quirks her brow. “Well, I’m going to pot the black. Then I’ll actually win your sweet tongue on my pussy.”
“I like a confident woman.”
“I hadn’t worked that out about you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Take your shot.”
“I will.” Robyn bends over the table, taking a teasingly long time about it. Then she glances over her shoulder and catches me staring at her delicious arse. She winks, wriggling it. “Then I’ll take my prize.”
“Bring it on, love.”
She holds the cue much better than I did, before hitting the cue ball with a solid whack.
I raise my eyebrow, as the cue ball shoots right past the black, bounces on the back cushion and bounces back to rest almost precisely where it started.
I swagger to take her place. “Thanks for helping me.”
Robyn shuffles to the side, playfully running the butt of her cue between my legs in retaliation and making me hiss in pleasure. “Show me what you’ve got. Do you remember what I taught you?”
I nod, focusing on bending over the table with the right stance and grip.
Robyn rests her hand on my shoulder. “My best student. That’s perfect.”
My chest tightens at the same time that my lips tug into a smile.
Nobody has called me that before.
My teachers can go fuck themselves. I bloody tried in their classes, and if they couldn’t see that then that’s on them. Now, I’m with D’Angelo who always notices when I’m putting in effort at the arena, at home, or in bed. And I’m with Robyn who praises me for remembering her instructions.
She’s never once scolded me for not trying hard, being lazy, or compared me in a bad light to my twin.
I lick over my dry lips.
I’m hitting that bloody black ball.
Sweat drips down the back of my neck.
I can do this.
I fluidly pull back the cue.
This time, the ball shoots across the snooker table, catching the black.
The black spins off toward the pocket.
“I did it,” I exclaim. “I hit the bastard.”
I hold my breath.
Robyn leans her cue against the table. Then she wraps her arms around me from behind, pinning me over the table. Her breath is hot against my ear.
My eyelashes flutter.
Her gorgeous breasts are pushed against my back.
My eyes widen.
Pressed over the table with my Robyn wrapped around me like she’s going to hold onto me forever and never let go, I watch with wide eyes as the ball trembles on the lip of the pocket.
Then it falls in.
“I did it,” I whisper, stunned.
It’s the first time that I’ve played. I didn’t really think that I would win with the way that my luck has been going.
“You did it.” Robyn’s voice is low and seductive in my ear. “Looks like I get to pleasure you over the table.”
If I won, why does it feel like I’m still the prize?
Robyn licks the shell of my ear. “Don’t drop out of position.”
My fingers whiten on my cue
She reaches down to my back pocket, fishing out my phone.
She drops it in front of me. “Keep an eye on the time. I’ll be busy.”
“What…?”
“Don’t talk.” Robyn’s hand works its way between us and then down the crease of my arse, while she kisses down my neck.
“Bloody hell.” I struggle to hold my stance.
At the same time, I wish that I wasn’t staring at my phone.
I can see the twelve unread messages on there from Blythe.
Thirteen…
Fourteen…
I bite my lip.
Blythe must be furious that I’m ignoring her and the punishment card that she sent ahead of the game against the Washington Capitals tomorrow.
I know that I should tell Robyn.
Am I putting my lovers in more danger by ignoring Blythe? Should I follow through with her orders?
One more punishment.
I can bear it for the woman who is now sliding down my black jeans and underwear to my knees, before slipping her hand through my legs to massage my balls.
The woman who calls me her best student and helps me to pot my first ball in snooker, even if it means that I win in our contest.
Robyn makes me feel like I’m a winner and not a loser.
She’s the opposite of Blythe.
Robyn runs her free hand down my side, while playing with my heavy balls.
When she grasps my hard cock, I gasp. She milks me with long, firm strokes.
It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.
When Robyn’s weight is lifted from my back, it’s a struggle to follow her order and not look around or at least say something.
Where has she gone?
I miss her with a desperate longing.
“Good boy,” Robyn murmurs.
Why does it sound like she’s underneath the table?
I startle, when nails scratch up the front of my calves.
I blink the sweat out of my eyes, keeping my gaze fixed on the endless blue sea of the baize.
Why is Robyn underneath the table?
Then I feel a cool tongue curling around my cock, and I understand.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood in order not to call out her name.
Robyn, Robyn, Robyn, I chant in my mind.
I tremble, dropping my forehead onto the table, as her clever mouth gets to work on my cock with kitten licks around the head and then up and down my shaft. Finally, I battle not to hump my hips, as my cock is sucked into a warm heat, relentlessly in and out.
I moan.
My phone vibrates with another message.
I grit my teeth.
Through the mindless pleasure that is building in my balls and heating my skin, I still turn my head to stare at the phone.
What will happen if I admit to D’Angelo that I lied about Blythe? That I’ve been receiving messages from her, which I have been keeping secret in order to protect my new family from her?
Yet that wasn’t bloody enough for Blythe, was it?
She still tried to trip me on the ice.
She still came to Freedom.
Sixteen messages…
I flinch.
The heavenly wet heat and suction around my cock, while nimble fingers play with my balls and up and down my sensitive thighs, are driving me relentlessly toward an orgasm.
I shake my head.
I feel filthy having Blythe in my thoughts, while Robyn is touching me.
One woman is a monster who wants to break me, while another is the goddess who I willingly worship because she’d never break me.
Will Blythe contact the press, if I don’t reply to her messages?
I take a steadying breath.
If she sends twenty or more messages to me, then I’ll take the punishment.
Somehow, bargaining with myself like this, allows some of my anxiety to spill out of me.
Holding onto this new life for Eden and me has to be worth more than short term pain.
I was proudly open in my submission in front of all those strangers on Saturday night but that was because I was wearing a mask. Blythe wants to rip the mask off my face and expose me in front of everybody.
I’m not ready for that.
When Robyn hums around my cock, I cry out in pleasure. If I wasn’t already bent over the snooker table, my knees would have buckled.
“Love,” I say in warning.
Yet Robyn doesn’t pull back. Instead, she increases the speed of her movements, grabbing me hard to hold me in place.
When I come hard enough to curl forward across the table, my phone vibrates with yet another message from Blythe.
It’s the twentieth message.