CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO #3
“What the fuck?” Danny bellows as Cash smoothly pulls out, covers me with a towel, and jumps off. “Did you arrange this shit? Fucking sick, man.”
His indignation is comical since after he fucked around with my sister, I found him in bed with his now fiancée.
Even in the buff, Cash is cool, collected, and commanding, like most men could only be with an army behind them. “Get the fuck out of my room, Gordon.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted? To use her to piss me off?” Danny throws his arm toward me. “You’ve got her tied up in the spa? In the room next to mine when I was offered a massage?”
He never did like pranks. He’s one of those assholes who loves to dish it out, but can’t take it. I beat him at air hockey once in front of his teammates—creamed him actually—and he was pissed at me for days. Hindsight is crystal clear.
Cash lunges for him—all deranged and menacing—gripping his throat and lifting him off the ground.
He only hoists him enough so that Danny’s heels are no longer flush with the floor.
Danny is six-one, but somehow, the two inches Cash has on him translates to a beast and a mouse.
But it’s the demented frenzy that Cash seems to be in that Danny notes.
His face pales, even as he schools his expression to steely indifference and glares at every inch of my man in the nude.
“Based on our interaction earlier in the week”—Cash digs his thumb into what looks to be a healing cut on Danny’s neck—“you should have seen something coming.”
He didn’t tell me that he saw him, but I also didn’t ask.
Danny winces, but the pressure on his vocal cords must not be too debilitating. He flicks his gaze to me, feigning concern that was lacking when I was grieving our baby. “He’s using you, SJ.”
It’s strange how time and distance and new angles change things, rendering what was once convoluted utterly transparent. I suppose I could feel stupid, but I choose to be grateful.
“I don’t go by that name anymore.” I flash a cheeky grin. “And maybe I’m using him.”
“Are you?” he scoffs, still suspended against the wall by the naked Noire. “You loathed hockey violence, but this shit you’re okay with?”
“I’ll take those questions one at a time,” I sing, and Cash bites back a smile, relishing my postcoital confidence.
“I’m absolutely using him for his huge, pierced dick—even you can’t stop looking at it—but I’m also in love with him.
And from where I’m tied up, this violence is far more entertaining, though I do prefer to be the one he’s choking. ”
“I’ll be your boy toy, baby.” Cash glances over his shoulder at me with a proud wink before flashing a wicked grin at Danny. “She’s a fucking keeper.”
“She’s a fucking whore,” Danny spits out with a death wish.
Cash knees him in the balls while cutting off his air supply. “You busted in here and attempted to touch what’s mine. Your membership has officially been revoked. Security will see you out, motherfucker.”
Danny’s face is turning eggplant, his eyes bulging, and Cash seems to be relishing it. I remind myself that I’m opposed to murder, no matter how gratifying it is to witness the asshole practically pissing himself.
“Let him go, baby.”
Cash slams Danny’s head against the wall before he releases him, just hard enough to send a warning. “Thank my fucking queen for sparing your life.”
A muscle in Danny’s jaw pulses as he breathes through the excruciating pain between his legs and fights for composure.
“Thanks for keeping your lunatic boyfriend under control, SJ.” He snaps my name from my college days to emphasize that he knew a different version of me.
But then he turns back to Cash, putting space between them and issuing a threat I find either reckless or intriguing. “You’re nothing outside these walls.”
“If you really believe that, you have nothing to worry about. But we shouldn’t group it with things we know for certain, like, say, an NHL player who threw games for a payoff.”
Danny’s teeth grind, but he leers my way and volleys the threat. “Or the Stanley Cup stolen for the Noires.”
Cash closes the distance between them again. “Be grateful I’m not killing you, Danny. But I can’t guarantee how long that charitable outlook will last, so if I were you, I’d fucking run. Far, far away. Next time I see you, nothing will hold me back.”
Security steps in, ushering a shaken Danny Gordon away. And just like that, wrong is right, and ways are paved.
Cash shuts the door and rushes to my side, unbuckling my wrists, scooping me into his arms, and pushing his leaking cum back inside me. “You okay?”
“I’m perfect. That was some incredible closure, but I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”
He pecks my nose. “When I’m done with him, he’ll wish I had.”
From this new position, that sounds like poetry.
I bury my face in his neck, my adrenaline dissolving into unhinged laughter. “If that’s how you inflict vengeance naked, I can’t wait to see what you can accomplish in a suit.”
We become the masterpiece, and the masterpiece becomes us.