Brutal Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

“Time to wake up,” Greyson says in my ear.

I open my eyes and blink rapidly, trying to make sense of where we are. Not on the sidewalk anymore, that’s for sure. The air is warm, absent of a breeze. I’m sitting with my arms over my head. I tug, but they don’t move. Something holds firm around my wrists.

A rattling to my right draws my attention. He stands at a wall of windows, pulling a chain to open the vertical blinds. We’re in the dance studio, and the lights are off. My eyes catch on myself in the mirror, but it’s hard to reconcile what I’m seeing with the truth.

I’m naked to my waist, my wrists tied to the bar just over my head. My skin pricks, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I force my attention away, back to Greyson. He still stands by the large windows, but his attention is now on me. He’s got the blinds open. Moonlight streams in.

“What are you doing?” I scoot backward, until I’m as upright as I can be. My back bumps the wall, and I tilt my head back to get a better look at what’s binding my hands. It looks like he’s used shoestring. I rotate my hands, trying to see if there’s a way for it to come off, but I don’t get far.

Greyson stops in front of me.

I pause and look up at him.

“You’re not getting free.” He nudges my bare foot.

I wince. I move it, bending my knees to draw my legs in close, and a streak of blood follows.

Stepped on something.

My head hurts. My throat, too, when I swallow. Like I’ve got blades in my vocal cords.

When he gets down on my level, right between my legs, it occurs to me that this isn’t a game anymore. I don’t know who crossed the line first, but we’ve blown past it.

I don’t bother asking him to stop, to let me go. I know he won’t.

So I tip my head back again, letting it rest against the wall.

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve lost your fear.”

“Pointless, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He slides his hand up my right leg, starting at my ankle. “Let’s get something out of the way. You’re not here for pleasure.”

My mouth is dry.

“You’re here because you took something from me.”

It didn’t take him long to notice. That’s satisfying.

I chose correctly. My assessment of him proved to be accurate.

I lean forward as far as I can. My arms stretch backward, my shoulders straining. I’m flexible, but even this is pushing it.

“Okay.” My voice is pitched low. “I know what this is about.”

He swallows, and his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips. He seems caught, for a moment, when I bite my lower lip.

“Tell me where it is.” He’s swaying closer.

It’s just going to make him angrier.

He leans in, stopping shy of my lips. I’ve been staring at his, too, and now I meet his gaze. He’s frigid. Cold enough to freeze straight through.

“You’ll never fucking find it,” I say. “Because I burned it to ashes.”

He stops. Even his chest stops rising and falling. And then he laughs. Hard. He rocks back on his heels and throws his head back, the noise unleashing from him like he’s gone mad. He swipes at tears in his eyes and finally exhales, his chuckles subsiding.

Greyson reaches for me, and I’ve got nowhere to go. I’m not surprised when his hand closes around my throat.

He shoves me against the wall and follows, keeping his face in mine. His breath is hot on my fevered skin, and he smirks. “You’re not a good liar, sweetheart.”

My heart drops. “I had you for a moment.”

“And for a moment, I considered strangling you and leaving your body here.”

More lies . Right?

“I’ll ask you one more time,” he continues. “Last chance for tonight to end… well, not good . But better than where it’s headed.”

I gulp.

“Where is it?”

I imagine the photo album. Who knew a leather-bound book of memories could cause so much trouble? And I know, if I want my life to keep on track at all , I’m not going to break. I can’t do that to myself.

At the end of the day, I’m the only one who’s going to stand up for me .

I took it so Greyson would finally hate me enough to leave me alone.

“Go fuck yourself, Devereux,” I hiss.

His grip tightens on my throat. My oxygen is cut off, and he watches me until my face is surely beet red. My whole body is hot, burning to the touch. I stare at him, into his eyes, and I thought I would be tough. I thought I could outlast him.

I can’t anymore. The need to breathe is too high. I yank at the bindings and struggle to get away from him, simply out of self-preservation.

But there’s no escaping it.

Again .

Into the darkness I go.

When I wake up again, I’m in the same position, leaning mostly on the wall. My fingers are tingling and numb from being above my head for so long.

However long that has been.

This time, my shorts are gone, too. My legs are open wide. I shift and feel something… in me? It’s too dark to see.

Then the object buzzes to life.

It’s inside me and pressed to my clit. I gasp at the sensation, which keeps growing until it’s almost violent. My back arches, and my feet scrabble at the floor for purchase.

And then I spot Greyson, across the room in the shadows, and I come.

Violently .

It doesn’t turn off. I draw my legs back together, but I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. Worse, probably, because my clit is throbbing under the vibrations. I scream when another orgasm is ripped from me. A wordless cry. My body quakes, and I sag back when it finally switches off.

The only sound in the room is my ragged breathing.

“Where is it?”

I don’t answer.

He turns it on again, but low. Not enough to do anything except flutter inside me. I squirm, gripping the bar above my head and pulling myself up again.

“This your worst?” I ask.

He saunters across the room and flicks open a knife. It makes a little snick noise, and the moonlight glints across the metal. He pries my legs apart and kneels between my legs. He runs the tip of the knife down my chest, between my breasts.

Then back up, around the underside of my breast and around, spiraling closer to my nipple. Even knowing that if he could maim me in more physical ways, I’m entranced by it.

I’m horrified of my own reaction.

And the vibrator just makes it worse. Or better.

“No, Violet,” he says softly. “This isn’t my worst. Not by a long shot.”

My breathing is coming harder. My heart has kicked it up a notch. And when he finally digs the blade into my skin, dragging it diagonally down my breast, I’m not surprised. The pain, twisting my already sensitive nerves, blends with the pleasure in my pussy.

“I’ve never gotten to explore this side of myself,” he admits.

We’re both fixated on the blood welling up on my skin.

“Deeper,” I whisper.

He grunts and leans forward, licking the line. His tongue rasps against the slice, collecting my blood.

And then he gives it back to me, catching the nape of my neck and pressing his open mouth to mine. His hand gropes my breast, and his nails dig into the cut.

I come like that. With my blood on our tongues and the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.

He strokes himself, then grabs my hips and flips me to my knees, facing away from him. The vibrator shifts, reaching a new depth, and I arch. My only view now is of the wall in front of me. I twist my wrists to grab the bar better, supporting my torso.

“Where is it, Vi?”

He pulls my hips back toward him and palms the toy. It presses more firmly on my clit, and although the setting is still low, my body is strung tight from the multiple orgasms. My muscles ache, but I feel boneless.

I groan, bowing my head. “There’s no way in hell I’m telling you. Not until you promise to be done with me.”

His laugh his hollow.

And then his wet finger touches my asshole, and I go rigid.

“Has anyone fucked you here?” He presses his finger in, inching deeper.

I don’t know if it feels good or not, but it’s foreign. And he doesn’t seem to care that helpless whimpers are coming out of my throat. He pulls it out and pushes in again, testing me.

“No?”

“No,” I say on an exhale.

“Good.”

His finger disappears. There’s a ripping sound, and then a condom wrapper floats to the floor. “Round two is going in your pussy,” he informs me. “Bare.”

I swallow.

The tip of his cock rests… there . I try to relax, but I’m not sure I can get my muscles to cooperate. He spits on my ass, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I curl my hands around the bar, the laces cutting into my wrists. It hurts when he forces his way in. He’s not gentle about it. One minute he’s teasing me, touching my thighs, and then next he’s got me in a tight grip and has pushed all the way in.

“I can feel the toy vibrating inside you,” he tells me.

I bite my lip so hard, blood fills my mouth. I don’t want to give him a single sound.

He gives me a second to adjust, then starts to move. My body is on fire. And then, weirdly enough, something flips in my brain.

It doesn’t feel bad. Or like an intrusion.

I rock my hips back, and his cock slides deeper. The double penetration makes me feel too full, but it’s a unique, shiver-inducing sensation.

“Give it to me,” he grunts. “Tell me you like my cock in your ass.”

I don’t say it. Fuck that.

He reaches around me, his front pressing to my back, and tweaks my nipple. The vibrator goes to a higher level, a pulse, and he groans. He rubs my breast, scraping his nail along the cut he gave me. Fresh blood rolls down my breast and drips to the floor. He alternates between touching the cut and pinching my nipples between his fingers.

He thrusts into me harder, and I let out another whimper.

I can’t come again.

But it seems he has other plans, because he doesn’t let up. He circles his hips, and my eyes roll back. He pounds into me with wild abandon.

“So fucking tight.” He slides his hand between my chest, down to my abdomen, and holds it there. “You don’t know what taking your last virgin hole is doing to me.”

He comes with a roar, slamming into me a final time.

It’s too much. Again .

I let go, and I think I black out as my orgasm overtakes me. My body relaxes all at once, and Greyson grabs me before I take a header into the wall. Still, my eyes close.

When my eyes open, I’m flat on my back. Somehow, we went from there to here, my wrists now untied and resting at my sides. I flex my fingers to get blood circulating in them again, and I move to sit up.

Greyson stops me. “Tell me what my father told you.”

I stiffen.

He shakes his head and winds his hand to the back of my neck, helping me rise a little. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Vi. What’s he giving you in exchange for… avoiding me?” He narrows his eyes. “For having nothing to do with me?”

He knows.

Somehow, he knows.

Dread laces through me, and I grab his wrist. I keep it on my neck. I don’t know what to feel—part of me is too exhausted to feel anything at all. But I know that I like Greyson far more than I should.

I know this last month of avoiding him has been hell.

“It’s a long story,” I hedge.

He sits beside me. His brows furrow. “Then tell it.”

I shiver.

He pauses, then goes to get his sweatshirt. He helps me slide my arms through the sleeves, briefly touching my wrists. I put it over my head and immediately sigh. It’s not cold in here, but when you’re naked…

It smells like him, too.

“I went to Vermont to meet with a specialist, at the behest of Crown Point Ballet’s artistic director,” I start.

“Mia Germain.”

“Uh-huh.” I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “I saw your texting thread with her.”

Oh, great. I should really password protect my stupid phone. Willow calls me out for being too trusting, too.

“Anyway.” I shift and try to ignore the soreness in my ass. Ugh. “Dr. Michaels said my leg healed okay, and it was physically able to support my dancing, but the nerve pain was holding me back.”

“Nerve pain.” His gaze drops to my leg, then back up. “How long has that been going on?”

“Since the accident?” I shrug.

“You touch it sometimes. Your leg, I mean. Like it hurts. I just thought it was something that you did as a habit.” He winces. “And you’ve been running—”

“Dr. Michaels ordered an MRI to check for stress fractures and then suggested aquatic therapy for the nerve pain,” I say in a rush. “But I wouldn’t have been able to afford any of it. My mom and I… I don’t know what happened, really, but we don’t have a relationship anymore.”

Is it her fault or mine that we fell apart?

Whose responsibility is it to keep a family together?

“Vi,” Greyson says.

I tap my fingers on his wrist. “Your father’s secretary called when we were still in Vermont. She knew…”

“Because I mentioned Dr. Michaels.” He rubs his eyes. “Goddammit, I just wanted to know if he had heard anything about the man. I didn’t expect him to piece it together—especially since he knew where we were.”

“She said, and I’m assuming this was coming straight from your father, that I was a distraction for you. They had high hopes of you going to the NHL or something.” I hate that they were able to twist me like that. They played me like a fiddle. “They took care of my medical bills. The MRI, the water therapy. The place just bills them every time I go.”

Shame fills me.

“I don’t know what to do. Because ballet is finally within reach again. My leg feels better than it has in months. But…” You .

He leans forward and kisses me. Hard. It reopens the nick on my lip from where I bit it earlier, but neither of us care. We’re suddenly dying to get closer to each other.

I crawl into his lap, straddling him, and wrap my arms around his neck. We’re chest to chest. It’s not even a surprise when his cock slides into me again. I rise on my knees and lower myself slightly. My groan gets lost in his mouth.

He pulls away a bit, still flexing his hips up to meet me. “That’s it? That’s how they’re bribing you?”

“That’s it,” I confirm. “But it feels like a whole lot.”

“Violet, I have a trust fund. I’ve had access to it since I turned twenty-one three months ago.” He cups my cheeks. “My father can fuck off. If you need someone to cover that therapy, I will.”

I shake my head. “I won’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not asking.” He thrusts into me harder, then brings my face down to him. He plants a kiss on the corner of my lips and sweeps across to my ear. “I’m fucking telling you, Vi. It’s you and me. Only us. I’m not letting anyone or anything come between us again. You can count on that.”

“Only us,” I repeat, clutching him tighter. “Okay.”