Page 15 of Break

Once she pulls out the stuff to do the stress test, I toss my shirt to the side. She doesn’t stare, just presses nodes against my skin.

“Are you dating someone?” I ask.

She looks up at me, her brows tugging together. “Why?”

“Because you look like you just got broken up with,” I counter.

She shakes her head. I don’t know what she’s saying no to, but I lift her chin as she places an electrode low on my belly. “If you want to touch lower, you know how to make that happen, don’t you? You can get on your knees and choke on my cock.”

She slaps my hand away, her blue eyes darkening in warning. “This is for a stress test—for you, specifically. It’s not to see how much trauma I can handle in one day.”

“Say whatever you want, sweet cheeks. You can pretend you don’t like me, but I bet you can’t stop thinking about that night we had together,” I purr.

She says nothing, only sighs and motions to the treadmill.

Hope used to have more bite to her, but I don’t overthink it. She’s a perfect little toy, and that’s all. She belongs to me, to Jax, and to Knox. We’re not going to let her forget it, not after working so hard to get to her.

She belongs to us and seven years, ten years, twenty aren’t enough to change that. Even if she were dating someone, we’d fix that quickly.

I complete the stress test, pee in a cupagain, then give blood. I stand in front of Hope, and she motions to my pants. “Down to your boxers, please.”

“Say please like you mean it,” I tease.

Her eyes flick to mine. “Dimitri, please, just…”

I smirk and drop my pants. I’m not wearing boxers. Her face heats as she quickly glances away. “Any injuries?”

“None that haven’t healed well,” I comment. “None that are recent.”

She circles around me. Her hand strokes over a scar on my shoulder. I look back at her as my dick hardens again. “From a fight, unrelated to football.”

“If you get injured off the field, we’ll have a problem,” she murmurs.

“You’ll get so turned on that you soak through your panties?” I tease, and her eyes meet mine. “I remember how much you like fighting.”

She shakes her head but touches my chest. I catch her hand and slowly have her stroke over my chest, my abs, and hold her hand just above my hard cock. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do anything other than stare at my neck. “Another fight?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“You can get—” she starts, and my hand tightens on her.

“If I reached into your too-loose pants right now, would I find you slick for me? Would your pussy feel just as tight as it did last time?” I ask.

She rips her hand away and turns around. “You can get dressed.”

“We both know that’s not what you want,” I say as I walk up to her, pulling her hips back so she can feel how hard I am just looking at her. She squirms, trying to pull herself away, but I whisper in her ear. “How much does your pussy ache for me?”

“You should wear boxers when it comes to working out. Someone will see up your shorts,” she whispers. “I have to turn in the results so you get approval.”

“Ask permission,” I say against her ear. She still smells just as good. Her perfume is light, fruity, but clean. How can just her perfume make my mouth water like this?

“Let me go, Dimitri. We’re at work. I don’t want to call H.R. or talk to Coach,” she whispers without an ounce of grit to it.

Jaxon is right. She has changed. She doesn’t yell, doesn’t whine. She’s so… apathetic, almost. She wasn’t yesterday. She was skittish and nervous. She was like a scared little rabbit. The power I felt was insane.

“You won’t as long as you stay quiet like a good girl, and I know the best way to ensure that,” I say as my fingers skim over her stomach and curl inside her pants. “All we need is Jax or Knox joining us.”

Her body stiffens in my grasp, and my hand only lowers until it curves around her mound and I can press my fingers against her entrance.

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