Shot in the Dark - One

Happy Stanley Cup Finals Day, everyone! Something to start the series off...
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ONE


Mike kept his head down, but looked up through his eyelashes at the scene.  The bar was full of the usually well-heeled LA crowd.  Even in the swirl of short, trendy dresses and salon-waved hair, she stood out.  That’s why he’d noticed her.  Moments like this he still couldn’t believe he’d landed her.

He shook the negative thought away; there had been enough of those for a lifetime.  No one fell from grace without a few scars from the landing.  She moved from one person to the next, seeming to know everyone in the place.  The dark blue jewel-toned silk of her dress accentuated all the tanned skin it didn’t cover.  Dark hair swept down her back, the kind women spent hours and hundreds to achieve.  Mike knew it looked that way when she rolled over in the morning.  

Whatever the X-factor was, she had it.  Not the most beautiful face in the room - in LA, no one could claim that - nor did she have the thinnest body, the biggest rack or the longest legs.  But her combination of impressive assets combined for a deadly cocktail.  Laughing at something as she passed yet another man with hungry eyes, her smile flashed like a bomb detonating.

Mike stirred the tiny red straw in his dark amber drink - whiskey, rocks, highball glass.  

His own outfit had become a uniform - dark slacks, white shirt open at the throat, black blazer.  Expensive enough to outweigh being casual, as the men in LA battled to be most dressed-down, to have the appearance of putting forth no effort.

This wasn’t his scene.  His trade from Philadelphia had been like sudden death, the trade to LA a second chance at life. Old mistakes would not be repeated.  His first season out west had been hard and his performance less-than-perfect.  Now, though... now something was happening.  The Kings had squeaked into a playoff spot like the last shark to a feeding frenzy, yet somehow devoured every opponent.  Standing between them and the Stanley Cup was only one team.  Only one round.

She stopped.  He glanced down to find his fingers gripped white around his glass, same as always.  At the corner of the bar, her hand rested high on his teammate’s arm.

Jeff smiled and laughed like a movie star entertaining a crowd.  Tall and strapping, sporting a beard he knew women loved, Carter pulled all the light from a room and directed it back at his audience.  Only with her, it was a spotlight.  

Long ago, Mike had used Carter’s effect to pull his own targets in like moths to a lamp.  It had cost him everything, and with only himself to blame.  The first six months in LA had been spent re-learning how to live the NHL life without that drug.  As soon as Mike figured it out, Jeff turned up practically on his doorstep.

Now they were teammates again; on the ice, things were clicking.  Off the ice, Jeff was clicking with someone else in Mike’s life.

She had to look up to see his face.  A delicate curve of her neck was enough to stop every conversation in the room, or so Mike imagined.    From his seat, he imagined their murmured voices, loud enough to hear each other but quiet enough to stay close.

Focusing on his drink, the whiskey burned just as deeply.

Mike blamed himself.  He should have known better than to bring his prized possession to school, where other kids would want to take it.  But his Kings teammates had been respectful - they kept their distance.  Carter had no such chivalrous qualms.  He’d take candy from a baby and lick it slowly just to savor the stolen taste.

Her fingers slid from his sleeve and Mike wondered if they parted with promises.   

He’d been watching her and Jeff so closely, he missed the other hazards in the water.  Also his friends, but not local, Claude and Max leaned against a dark-paneled wall beneath the soft glow of track lighting.  Their season was over and so on to a new game began - one that lasted four months and had one objective: capture as many flags as possible.

She would be the ultimate prize.

She went right to them.  Giroux was a friend - that didn’t mean he was trusted.  A supersonic rising star, he was all smiles and red hair curling in that rakish way Mike could never accomplish.  Talbot had been brought in by Claude, a reminder that Mike no longer knew the team he’d loved.  No matter, he told himself, because that team was drinking double while he chased the Cup.  Still, Max had an unnerving gravity about him.  It pulled women in like ships to a whirlpool.  Long, careless hair and an easy feline grace - even Mike felt it when Max moved.  She must want to claw that dress off.

Watching them was torture.  The two men paid attention to her like thieves plotting to steal the Hope Diamond.  Someone passed behind and Claude pulled her in - gently, yes, but his hand was so  low and lingered so long that Mike tasted the desire on his tongue.

Tugging at his open collar, MIke felt uncomfortable and warm.

There had been plenty of women.  All he remembered of most of them was they hadn’t been like her.  Maybe some had been hotter, maybe, but none had been sexier.  Mike knew he was lucky.  But was he enough for a women like her?

He hated the thoughts swirling in his head these last few days.  Since Claude and Max arrived, Mike was assaulted on all fronts.  The way Jeff looked at her could be handled.  But Mike could not fight off three men at once.  Inside him, fear poked an uglier beast - self-consciousness.  In Philly, he’d drown that animal many times.  In LA it had starved instead, retreating until almost forgotten.

The same answer dogged his mind; the only way to defeat it now.  Mike needed to control the situation and dictate the scene.

Hence the plan for tonight.
____

She was playing with fire.  A single fingertip against the bare skin at Giroux’s neck was enough to soak her panties.  If she were wearing any.

Goddamn Mike for having these friends.  Being with him was like getting a tour of a chocolate shop from the man who owned the place - he was the one she wanted, but some of the other treats looked so fucking delicious.  Surely she could have just a taste?

Jeff was obvious, towering over people like a superhero.  Mike’s excitement at having his partner in crime back had excited her too - she wanted him happy.  But before she could even introduce herself, Jeff’s eyes poured over her like water: running, coursing, threatening to drown her.  Every time since, with Mike or without, Jeff made it clear in a glance that he didn’t care who she belonged to.

She’d learned to manage it.  And once or twice in bed, with Mike on her back, she closed her eyes and pictured his tall, blond teammate instead.  If it got her off faster, and Mike never knew she was saving them both.

The Kings won every playoff series in near-record time and suddenly they were headed to the Final.  Just as quickly, two new bombs were dropped on her life.

Claude Giroux was guileless; he knew panties melted in his wake and didn’t care.  It made him more desirable, the effortlessness of his sex appeal.  She knew he had tremendous drive buried somewhere in that red head of his, and imagined what it would feel like if chose to use it on her.

Max Talbot was predatory.  His sexiness was aggressive but teasing, taking every inch and testing every way in.  When he found a weakness, he advanced.  Like moves on a chess board, there can be only so many before the queen has to give herself up.

She left them standing at the wall, knowing their eyes were on her the whole way.

“Hi.”  

It always surprised her how attractive Mike was.  Not the sculpted looks of a model or the exaggerated physique of a storybook prince, but a warm, strong aura that made her ache with desire.  Everything about him was real.  He’d soared then suffered, and it etched his face with a capable, beautiful awareness.  The playoff beard - well that was just fucking sexy.

He slid over to make a little more room for her.  “You know every guy in this place was watching you.”

“Including you?” she teased.  He pinched his lips and lifted his brows - a sharp, annoyed face.  Of course he’d been watching.  But not enjoying.

“Then I’ve caught the only eye I want,” she said, and kissed his scruffy cheek.

He was jealous.  Their first few meetings showed no hints of it, and he held off bringing her around his teammates for a long time. When finally she met them, she wondered why Mike had worried.  Not a single guy in that bunch had it over him.  When she said as much, Mike seemed unconvinced.  

Since Jeff had arrived, she’d tried a little harder to assure Mike.  Then Jeff undid all her work blink.  It left her feeling stripped, as if Mike could see into her mind.

At her side, Mike’s posture eased after a moment.  Physical contact had that effect.  Whether he was soothed by her body or by showing the room whose side she was on didn’t matter.  He pulled a hand up her thigh, lifting the hem of her dress.

“Mmmm,” she purred in his ear.

She didn’t like Carter much, as a person.  He was still the person Mike had been in Philly - expectant, entitled.  A hot-shot.  The experience that had so changed Mike hadn’t taken any wind from Jeff’s sails.  He did what he wanted.  It was fine, until he wanted her.  She hated herself for wanting to know if Jeff lived up to his opinion of himself.

Claude and Max were new, but her first impressions of them proved more true every moment.  Giroux was a decent guy, having fun.  If that fun involved fucking someone else’s girlfriend - well, she’d go home satisfied and what happened after that was up to her.  He made no promises except the unspoken one that she wouldn’t regret getting on the ride.

Something about Talbot was more dangerous.  He loved a challenge - possibly had never met a woman he couldn’t seduce.  Try to be the first and she’d found herself the victim of a thousand tiny advances - a touch here, a look there.  Max never rested.  He just waited.

Yet every time, she went back to Mike.  He was like an anchor while she tossed about in the storm.  Sex with him had been more intense than ever over the last week - even now, she was practically trembling for his hand to keep moving up between her legs.
“I have a surprise for you tonight,” he whispered.

“Now, Mike.  Take me home.”

He merely waved to his friends across the room.  She gave them brief smiles, hoping not to reveal that each of their faces would play a role in her head tonight.
____

Instead of going home, Mike drove the long way up Huntington Beach.  The open windows let a sultry sea breeze ruffle her hair as she leaned back into the leather seat of his sports car.  California was a sexy place to live.  He went slowly along surface streets as if enjoying the night air - she didn’t ask questions.  He began to loop back in their direction, then took another route and pulled into The Hotel Huntington Beach.

“Hmm, my surprise?” she asked.  Mike shrugged as the valet opened his door.

The swanky lobby was dark floors and black and white lighted pillars, very boutique modern.  She slowed as if to check in but Mike tugged her toward the elevator.  A key materialized in his hand.

“Oh, you’re sneaky.”

When the elevator doors closed, Mike moved of his own volition for the first time all night.  This was his plan.  Time to make it work.  He guided her against the wall and kissed her, long and lingering, until he hoped her toes were curling.  The door dinged open and he led her to the left and one of only four doors on the top floor.

“Penthouse, sexy,” she smiled.  Inside the suite was black and white too, luxuriously appointed with amenities he ignored.  Into the bedroom.

A dresser and desk lined one wall.  Stretching from the corner was a settee with a back at one and a small arm along one side., meant to be reclined on like a couch for one.  A king size platform bed had white linens stretched perfectly over it, tucked at the corners.  The only scars on the perfect surface were two silk ribbons, each two inches wide, laid out next to each other.

She looked down at them.  Mike was playful, and he was talented.  She often led in the bedroom because on nights when he had a bad loss or tough game she herself up to him as a consolation prize.  He could go hard and long, as if punishing himself with pleasure.  She had no complaints.  Seeing the silk binds... well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d tied her up.

Before she could offer a guess as to the nature of the night’s activities, Mike kissed her again.  This one shut her up.  His tongue slipped into her mouth and his strong hands pulled her dress up over her ass with surprising need.  He expected a lace trail leading down between her legs, but found nothing at all to stop him.

“Surprise for you,” she said.

He ran a hand over the crack of her ass and pushed his fingers into her pussy from behind.  She had been wet all night but the urgency caught her off guard and she squeaked.

“Like that?” he asked, and did it again.  “Bet you do, baby.”

She had his blazer off, worked at his shirt buttons as best she could pressed to his chest.  Her pussy was quivering, finally getting the attention it had been begging for.  He traced fingertips over her entrance, spreading her open before plunging in again.  She moaned.  Mike yanked his hand free, turned her around and unzipped her dress.  It fell to the floor, leaving her in a strapless black bra and matching stilettos.

“Ready for your surprise?” he asked, kissing along her shoulder.

“Yes,” she was rather breathless now, hoping her secret involved coming very soon, because she was halfway there.  Something about his frantic pace, combined with the sexual tension of the night, had her ready to go.

Mike reached for one of the silk strips.  He gathered her wrists behind her back, circled them then looped through the middle before he tied the two ends together.  She tested the bonds - solid as always.  He guided her toward the settee and sat her down.  Then he reached for the other strip.

It would be a first if he bound her feet.  She couldn’t see what sexual use that would have anyway, but if Mike wanted it she was willing to try.  Perched on the seat with her hands tied behind her back, she helpfully crossed her ankles and offered them.

Mike knelt in front of her, bare-chested and beautiful.  His hard, strong body made her weak.

“No no, baby.”

He lifted the silk and blindfolded her.
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