Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Sage

I've never been to a hockey game before, and I'm not sure what to wear. I have, however, been to a lot of rodeos.

I get dolled up for the first time this whole trip—as much as I can with what I brought—check Annie's food, water, and litter, and head over to Molly's. The outfit isn't much, just a pair of fitted jeans, my nice boots, and a floral blouse that shows off the girls to full effect. But after the way he fumbled over our last interaction, I start to doubt myself. My full breasts are overflowing the top of my bra and creating a nice amount of cleavage. Is this too much boobage for a game?

Will I embarrass Bash if I go to his game looking like this?

I actually have no idea. Is he into tits? Asses? Every man is different. Luckily, I've got plenty of both.

Getting fancified is well outside of my comfort zone, but I'm excited. Ever since the Oh, Canada party, things have been tense between the two of us, and I know exactly why that is. He almost kissed me in the kitchen, and I almost let him, but I panicked at the last minute. Blame it on one too many Canadian beers.

Next time he looks at me like that, with his big blue eyes and his even bigger… assets, I'm gonna take him up on it. I saw exactly what he's working with when he startled me under the sink.

He's so hot, and it's been so damn long for me…

We're two consenting adults. What could it hurt to have a little fling and part as friends?

Molly's is the only car in the driveway, but I'm not the first to arrive. Scarlett's sitting at the kitchen island when I wander through. When she sees me, she reaches out her hands, not like she wants to hug me, but like she wants to grab me.

"Would you let me have fun?" she asks.

"Uh." I look to Molly for a cue. "Have all the fun you want. Don't let me stop you."

"I plan to have fun with your face. Can I?" She walks over to me, still making that grabby-hands gesture. "Ooh, look at those lashes. You're not wearing makeup yet, are you?"

"Just a bit of tinted moisturizer and lip gloss…"

"That settles it." She takes me by the shoulders, spins me around, and steers me toward the stairs. "You're hanging with the wives, and we've got plans for you."

Flossie's never been into girly stuff all that much, and I guess I never saw the point of doing makeup when I spend most of my days shoveling shit and sweating my tits off doing chores around the ranch. Most of the time, I don't bother with eyeliner or contouring or any of that. Just a little mascara and lip gloss does me just fine for most occasions.

"Don't worry, I'll highlight your best features." Scarlett's brush whispers against my cheek, and I close my eyes instinctively.

"Which are?"

"All of them. I'd lowkey hate you if you weren't so wholesome and nice." Scarlett chuckles. "So, how are you liking Vegas?"

"The Strip's kind of terrible, but it's not that different from what I expected. It wasn't on my bucket list until recently. I never thought about the people who live here year-round. It's kind of normal out here in the suburbs. Hot, though . "

"You're from the mountains," she says. "And you won't know real Vegas heat until you stay for the summer."

"Which I won't be," I remind her. For the first time, that reminder makes me a little sad. It's not as if I'd give up the ranch for a guy, especially not after what happened with Trevor. It does get me wondering, though, how things might be different if I could have both. I'm not sure how that would even look, though.

By the time Scarlett's done with me, Molly, Stella, Delilah, Layla, and Toni are gathered around the nearly complete book nook to admire our progress.

"Look at you!" Toni claps her hands. It's baffling to me that she's related to Dante somehow. She's so bubbly. "You're stunning!"

"Even more stunning than usual," Delilah clarifies. "Phase One is a go. Good work, Scarlett."

"Phase… what?" I look around at them. There are phases? This is next-level meddling.

"You know what else you need? A jersey." Layla looks me up and down. "Wearing their jerseys makes the guys happy."

"I don't have a jersey."

Molly bats her eyelashes at me. "Oh, whoopsie doodle! Look what we have here. A jersey." She reaches behind her like some sort of stage magician and produces a jersey from thin air. She holds it out to me.

I take it and shake it out, then turn it around to see the back. "This is Bash's jersey."

Toni and Layla exchange a smirk. "The rest are spoken for," Toni says. "Except for the annoying rookies."

Delilah nods. "And while it would've been better for Bash to give it to you, we don't have time to wait on him. I can't believe I'm saying this, but that man is too respectful."

I flip around and change into the jersey. It's boxy and unflattering but not too bad with skinny jeans. Plus, Scarlett's makeover has left me glowing.

With my long, thick auburn hair falling around me in silky waves, I look pretty damn hot, if I do say so myself.

We pile into the fancy rental van that's waiting on the street.

"Do you hire this thing every time?" I ask. I can't imagine how much it costs to be shuttled to and from every home game and pay the driver to wait.

"We take the van there," Molly explains. "We get rides home with our husbands, but parking at the arena is kind of a nightmare. When we rent it together, it's less than the cost of an Uber for each of us."

"Ah." I sit back in the plush seat. "That makes sense." Yet another way in which Vegas is different from home… and another reason that it's good that they all get along.

We chat over a glass of wine on the way to the arena. Before long, we slide to a stop at the curb in front of the main entrance.

I'm overwhelmed by the press of people on the way into the arena, but the gals know their way around, and they're careful to ensure I don't get lost on the way to the friends and family section. On the way in, we pass Dante, who polishes his fingers and beams when he sees me.

Toni lays a hand on my elbow and shakes her head. "Uncle Dante's over there taking credit for this, like we haven't been working overtime to orchestrate this piece de resistance ."

"At least we're all in agreement," Molly says.

"I'm so confused," I mumble.

Molly squeezes in on my left and leads me down the row so I'm right in the middle of our group. "Speaking of confused. So, Noah suddenly changed things up in the bedroom. He's grittier. More demanding. Talking filth. According to TikTok therapists, this would suggest he's having an affair, but this is Noah we're talking about. I don't know what to think."

Delilah leans over from the row behind us. "What'd he say? What kinda filth are we talking here?"

Molly presses her hands to her cheeks. "Well… he started giving me instructions, kind of narrating everything we were doing. You know how he's quiet? It's the same in the bedroom, but he got more… forceful. Like, he still checks in with me, but in between, he's so…" She flounders for the words.

Mona leans back in her seat. "Did he tell you that if you get on your knees and take his cock like a good girl, he'll reward you with the best fuck of your life?"

Molly squeals and hides her face. "Almost word for word! How did you know? "

"It's from Primal Heat , a dark mafia book." Mona examines her black fingernail polish. "The one that everybody's reading. Thanks to me. I accept cash, PayPal, Zelle, or gift cards and baskets."

"That's why I was asking!" Delilah cries. "Okay, remember the night of the Oh, Canada party? Ranger upped his game. It felt a lot like this book I was reading."

Layla nods. "Same here! Except Briggs suggested that I tie him up and—" She stops abruptly.

"Time him up and use him like a toy for your own pleasure?" Mona guesses. "Uh-huh. That tracks."

A slow smile creeps over Molly's face. She lowers her hands. "Come to think of it… Mona, do you know anything about the spike in sales the day the guys went…" She makes air quotes. " Ax throwing? "

"I might." Mona reaches into her purse and pulls out a book. "By the way, Sage, this is for you. You're welcome."

I accept the paperback, which features two half-naked people improbably positioned bareback on a horse. "Oh, wow. Thanks."

"Thank me later," Mona says. "Does anyone else want nachos?"

"And wine!" Layla adds.

I didn't know you could get nachos and wine at a hockey game, but apparently you can, because we're soon laden with snacks and beverages. I try to hand off cash to someone, but none of the ladies will accept my contribution. According to Molly, "This is all part of the plan."

I can't complain because it turns out hockey is fun. Maybe not as much fun as watching barrel races, but it's still a blast. Even when I don't follow every play, I can still tell when to cheer based on the reactions of the people around me, and the energy is electric. I remember what Bash said, too, about the importance of winning this season. Knowing the stakes and the individual players makes it even better.

Bash scores a goal, and people all around the stadium scream. There's a celebration on the ice with the guys, and then he skates toward our section. He winks at me and waves before circling back to the guys.

Molly nudges me with her elbow. "He totally likes you, Sage."

I know he does. And the feeling is extremely mutual.

By the end of the game, I'm practically in tears to see that the Venom have won. It's crazy how much I get caught up in a game I don't fully understand, cheering for a team that represents a city I don't really know. Even so, I pump my arms in the air with Molly when she starts chanting, "Venom rules! Venom rules!"

"That was more fun than pole bending!" I shout.

Delilah whistles. "Whoa, Sage. You dance, too?"

"It's a rodeo thing," I tell her.

"Too bad." She eyes me up. "You should. I bet you're strong enough. And your girls are all natural and yet still magnificent."

Once again, I'm swept up in the pack of my new friends. Instead of returning the way we came in, we troop down to the player exit to meet the guys. The sense of novelty hasn't faded, and I wish I'd thought to record any part of this experience. It'd make a great story for my followers.

The player exit is a flurry of activity, with fans clamoring for autographs and photos. My heart quickens as we wait for the guys to emerge, the excitement building like a tangible force. The crowd's energy pulsates around me, their cheers and gasps creating a chorus of anticipation. And then, one by one, men in suits start to emerge from the locker room, their faces flushed with exertion and victory.

I spot Bash among them, his dark hair tousled and his eyes shining with adrenaline. He moves with a grace that belies his strength; every step he takes is like a dance of power and control. As he approaches, I can't help but admire the way his muscles ripple beneath his suit. My gaze follows him hungrily, my mind already wandering to all the fantasies I've harbored about him late at night just two doors down. If only he knew the things I long to do to him.

Bash grins when he sees me. "Did you have fun, my little cowgirl?"

Without overthinking it, I launch myself into his arms. "Absolutely. You were amazing out there."

Dammit, he smells good. And feels good. Maybe it's not so bad to keep this feeling just for myself.

The warmth of Bash's arms envelops me, his scent—a mix of adrenaline and that unmistakable citrus—fills my senses, and something inside me clicks dangerously close to right. He's solid, real, and his presence sends a thrill through me that I can't quite name. The cheer of the crowd lingers in my ears, a fading echo of the night's excitement, but it's his smile, just for me, that I can't shake off.

Dammit, I need to watch it, or I'm going to fall head over heels for this guy. It's too easy, too tempting to let go and let whatever this is sweep me away. But falling for Bash? That story doesn't just end with the credits; it could rewrite everything. And I'm not sure I'm ready for that.

* * *

Distill is, apparently, the usual spot for an afterparty. It's crowded and loud, but it's way more my speed than the Strip. The guys are rambunctious, recounting their favorite plays and most impressive moves of the night. The wives join in, tossing around terms I can't follow, even though I was there for the game. I listen in, just happy to be there with my friends. This place… these people… are starting to feel more and more like a second home.

I must have drifted to the edge of the group without realizing it because some guy sidles up to me.

"Hey, beautiful, I love your pink boots. Can I buy you a drink?"

I barely get a glimpse of his face before Bash steps between us. "She's mine," he says in this deep, rumbly voice I've never heard before. My body reacts before my brain can process that Bash just staked a claim on me. It's kind of… hot. More than kind of, if the state of my panties is anything to go by.

The rando backs off. I'm not the only one who's noticed Bash's display of possessiveness, though.

Noah nods toward us. "Finally, we're making some progress."

"About fucking time," Latham mutters. "Which one of you slipped that guy a twenty?"

Coop asks, "Which book was that from?"

"Pretty much all of them," Anders replies. Then he lowers his voice to a stage whisper. "But they're usually referring to the pussy, not the whole woman."

Oliver, who has traded his contacts for glasses, pushes them up his nose. "That's actually a pretty common fantasy for women. They enjoy a man's possessiveness. In one book I read, the hero cut off a man's hands just for touching the heroine and had them sent to her in a box."

"Damn." Latham's eyes widen. "Say less."

Bash ignores all of them and turns to me. "Any chance you'd like to dance?"

"With you?" I take his hand. "Of course."

Bash leads me to the dance floor as the upbeat pop song playing earlier fades into something slow and sensual. Bash holds me close as we sway together. He's pressed against me, so close I can feel the warmth radiating off him and the movement of each muscle through his clothes.

"You're wearing my jersey," he whispers in my ear.

I nod. "Is that okay?"

"I'd like to know what it means. If anything." His hand drifts lower on my back. "Sage, I… would you like to come home with me?"

"Well, since I'm staying there…"

The softness of the slow song wraps around us, creating an intimate cocoon as Bash holds me closer, his breath warm against my ear. A palpable charge in the air draws every nerve to attention. His question, seemingly simple, carries the weight of unspoken hopes and fears. His hand, firm yet gentle on my lower back, is asking for more than just physical closeness. More like seeking an answer to the silent longing that vibrates between us. Am I just a guest under his roof, or is there room for more between us? His voice, low and husky, asks if I'm ready to give myself to him. The intimacy of his proximity, the sincerity in his tone, it all pushes at the boundaries we've carefully maintained, hinting at a future that might just start tonight.

"Not like that." The fingers of his other hand interlace with mine. " With me."

I look up, right into those blue eyes that caught my attention from the moment we met. Tonight has been an adventure. Something I never thought I'd do. Going to hockey games and sleeping with guys I might never see again after next week, none of this is a very Sage way of doing things. But there's also something freeing about doing new things with new people. About exploring beyond your original capacity.

I came to Vegas to try something new, didn't I?

"I'd like that," I say. "Maybe we should head out early."

He presses my body into his hardness until a little moan escapes. "Maybe we should leave right now."

"But your friends…"

"Are going to gossip anyway. Come with me, Sage. Be mine in the only way that matters."

I let out a breathy laugh. "Say that again, later, under other circumstances."

His lips brush my forehead in a soft kiss. " Oui. "

As we leave, I glance over my shoulder at Molly, who's giving me a thumbs up.

* * *

Bash's bedroom is the one room in the house I've avoided sprucing up. Being in here feels personal and intimate in a way I've avoided. Besides, the masculine smell of lemons and spices overwhelms me quickly whenever I have a reason to wander in here.

Now, with my back pressed to Bash's bedroom door, my mouth on his, and my arms wrapped around his neck, I wonder what I've been afraid of. We could have done this ages ago. At the very least, we could have done this the night of the Oh, Canada party. I'm such an idiot. I've never, ever been kissed like this. Like he needs to have my lips on his more than he needs his next breath.

Bash breaks away from the kiss, inhaling hard. He nuzzles against my neck. "What do you want, Sage?"

I close my eyes and arch my back so that I press against him. "So, I hear y'all have been doing some reading."

" Mon dieu. " He trembles with laughter even as he rolls his hips against mine. "Yes, we have done homework. With Mona's blessing. And it appears I am the only one not reaping the rewards. But I would like to."

"And you're con-con." I try to wrap one leg around him, but I'm a little too short to climb him like a tree. "So, maybe you should ask me for what you want and see if I consent."

"Mm." He lifts from beneath my thighs, pulling me off my feet so that I'm pinned between him and the door. "Would you like me to kiss your neck, Sage?"

"Please do." I melt against him as his lips and tongue explore the sensitive skin of my collarbone.

"I'd like to see that jersey on my floor," he rasps.

"You'll need to let go."

"Not yet, then." He adjusts his grip on me and thrusts his hips against mine so that my back strikes the wood. I gasp. "Do you like that, Sage? When I'm rough."

"Fuck, yes." I run my hands through his hair. "I'd like you to fuck me into the mattress, please."

Bash barks out a laugh. "Is it wrong that I like the please ?"

"Not at all." I give his hair a sharp tug, pulling his head back a little until I can see his eyes. "I'd like you to start by licking my nipples. Please ."

Bash stumbles back a step and lowers me to the floor. I waste no time peeling off the jersey with his name emblazoned across the back and tossing it aside. I'd take the bra, too, but Bash drags the pads of his thumbs across my nipples, and I reconsider. This is the only lacy bra I own, and it seems to be going over well.

He hauls me onto the bed, lowers himself on top of me, and starts sucking my nipples through the lace. I pant and writhe beneath him.

"Sensitive," he murmurs. "Are you this sensitive everywhere?" I whimper as he kisses his way down my belly to the button of my jeans.

It takes some work to wriggle out of them, and when I do, I expect Bash to bury his face between my thighs. Instead, he braces himself above me, still fully dressed except for the suit coat that he lost in the foyer, with his sleeves rolled up to show his forearms.

"You're going to come for me," he says, as one hand roams over my belly, my thighs, my ass. "More than once."

"Are you sure about that?" I ask.

His fingers slide beneath the hem of my panties. He groans when he feels just how wet I am for him, even as he strokes my clit. "Very sure. And hearing the noises you make when you lose control? That's going to make me very happy."

It's not going to take much, especially not when he returns to sucking my nipples, his tongue laving over my sensitive skin. It's been a long damn time since anybody touched me, and even then, it was nothing like this. I squirm and whine beneath his touch, whimpering his name until I'm shaking.

"Bash, you were right—I'm almost—I'm gonna—" I'm seconds away from the most intense orgasm of my life.

And then, to my frustration, he pulls away.

"The fuck!" I yelp as Bash climbs out of bed.

"You didn't say please." He undresses slowly, watching me watch him. I try to touch myself, but he shakes his head. The leather belt whips out of his suit pants, and he holds it like a whip. For a second, I think he's going to use it on me, but then he throws it on the chair next to his fireplace. "Oh, no. You're going to ask so nicely first. But I'm not going to give in. Not until you beg."

I don't know what the fuck book Mona recommended to him, but she's unleashed a monster. I need the title yesterday. I need to get out ahead of this. He's got too much power over me and my body right now.

"P-please?" I stammer. "Please let me come?"

"That's a start." He unbuttons his pants. "I'm gonna need more specifics, Sage. What do you want ?"

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm at his mercy, and it's both thrilling and terrifying. I want to be someone else right now, the heroine in that damn novel, but I can't shake the feeling that surrendering to this desire is also surrendering a part of myself that I've long held back.

It's okay to just be me.

And to ask for what I want.

"I want you to... to lick me," I whisper, my voice barely audible. Instead of naming a specific place, I let my hand drift toward my soaked panties, push them aside, and dip a finger into my slick heat.

As I say the words, an exhilarating rush of power and desire courses through me.

Bash smiles, a slow, sultry smile that sets my nerves ablaze. Then he tilts his head as my finger circles my throbbing clit until I moan. "You want my tongue instead of your hand?"

"I want to come on your tongue."

"That's my girl," he growls, his eyes never leaving mine.

He crawls back onto the bed, his body heat seeping into my chilled skin. His lips find mine, and our tongues dance seductively, each movement possessing me more and more. As his hand finds my throat, I can't help but feel an unfamiliar excitement coursing through my veins.

His fingers tighten, sending shivers down my spine. It's a mix of pleasure and pain that I've never experienced before. But I want more, I need more, and I'm not afraid of what's happening between us.

I moan into his mouth, my eyes fluttering shut as Bash's hand leaves my throat and slowly moves lower, guided by the trail of desire that leads to the fiery core of my being. His fingers brush against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and I tremble in anticipation.

With a gentle press, Bash urges me to open wider, revealing the pulsing heart of my desire. I stretch out on the bed; my back arched, my hips thrusting upward in a silent plea. I'm raw, exposed, and completely vulnerable. It's Vegas, and this man holds all the cards.

From his place between my legs, he glances up at me and holds eye contact. "Do you remember what I said earlier? To that guy in the bar."

My head falls back. "How could I forget?"

"I meant it. This is mine." He places his palm over my sex gently and holds it there.

I let out a little moan and lean into the pressure. "I'm all yours."

Bash leans in, his breath warm against my skin, and I feel the first hint of his tongue, like a delicate caress that sends a jolt of electricity from my core to every nerve ending in my body. He traces the lines of my folds, teasing me with every flick and lap, drawing out a low growl from deep within me.

With each pass of his mouth, I feel myself getting closer and closer to that elusive edge. My breathing turns ragged, and I can feel the wetness seeping from within me onto Bash's lips, his chin, his cheeks. He's drinking in my desires, consuming me, and I can't get enough.

Finally, he finds the place where I need him most, flicking and sucking with an intensity that leaves me breathless and gasping. The pleasure builds, a tidal wave of sensations crashing over me again and again, each wave stronger than the last. My hips lift beneath him, my body craving the release.

I'm lost now, completely at his mercy, my body surrendering to his skill. I convulse beneath him, my body writhing and bucking, my moans growing louder and more desperate. The world around us fades away, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing and Bash's insistent mouth between my legs.

Finally, I can't take any more. The tension within me builds to a breaking point, and I cry out his name, my orgasm exploding like a supernova. My body shudders and quivers, every muscle tense and straining for release.

Bash soothes me through it, drawing out the sweet torment of my release. I cry out again and again, my body arching off the bed as I'm consumed by the most intense pleasure I've ever experienced. God, I never knew it could be like this.

After I float back down to earth, he kisses me tenderly. "Can you take more?"

I nod. "I think I can."

He hooks his thumb under the waistband of his boxer briefs and slides them off. "Tell me."

I lick my lips and force a swallow. "I want to come again on your cock. Please."

Bash smiles. "Good girl."

Okay, seriously, who begs to come on a man's cock? The woman who just had the most explosive orgasm of her life, that's who. I'm still reeling when Bash crawls into bed. There's a little light from the window, enough to outline him in silver.

He settles over me and presses two fingers against my lips. "Show me."

I open my mouth. His fingers taste like my own arousal as he slips them deeper into my mouth. I lift one hand to his wrist, guiding his fingers deeper, forcing myself not to gag.

"Yeah? You want it all?" Bash nips my earlobe. "Think you can take it?"

I nod. "Yes. Yes, I can."

He moves again, this time fumbling for a condom in the bedside drawer. I have ten whole seconds to come to my senses before he spreads my legs wide and guides himself into me.

I gasp, in pain this time, and he freezes.

"You want it slow?" he asks, sounding much more like my Bash than he did a moment before.

"I just need… a second… You're really big, and it's been a long time."

He resumes kissing me and stroking me, and I gradually relax, taking him inch by inch. It takes a minute for me to get there, but when I do, I feel so magnificently full .

Bash follows my cues, not speaking again until I'm fully relaxed and I can urge him to start moving a little. Before long, he's panting and breathless, his hips jerking irregularly. I did that to him . He… with me…

"Please." I rake my nails along his back, hopefully light enough that I don't leave a mark, but I'm a little outside myself at the moment. "Please, Bash, let me…"

There's no stopping it this time. I don't know what Bash says in response, because I'm already shuddering and calling his name, my back arching off the bed as pleasure tightens every muscle in my body.

"Ah, my sweet Sage," Bash says, and then something in slurred French that my orgasm-addled brain can't begin to understand. He lets his head droop forward until it touches my shoulder as he rides it out, and it's good, so good between us, and for that delirious moment, I wish that there wasn't an expiration date.

I wish I could stay.