10. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Viktor

The corner of my mouth tugs into a smirk. Yeah, I wanted Becks to see me, especially after I had to sit and watch him and Rinne getting all cozy together. They looked so comfortable, leaning in close to talk. Then Becks started laughing. And smiling.

My skin heats, jaw clenching.

I know Coach Rinne's happily married, but seeing them together, all buddy-buddy, it just rubbed me the wrong way.

I barely kept my ass in the minivan, fighting off the urge to march over and stake my claim. To sit in Beckett's lap and show Rinne exactly who he belongs to.

Beckett is mine. Mine to want, mine to obsess over. And I don't share.

So, I figured I'd let my grumpy coach catch me watching him. Not surprised he closed the shades. He's probably freaked out. What I don't understand is why he shut the lights.

Either way, doubt I'll be seeing anything for the rest of the night. Might as well go home and come up with a new game plan to win him over.

I walk back to the fire escape, the cool night air whipping around me, my mask firmly in place. From far away, everyone thinks this thing is made of crystals, and it was when I first purchased it. But then I had them replaced with diamonds. Because I can.

Had the base waterproofed first. Glad I did with how many times I've had to wash blood off it.

My feet barely hit the pavement after I get to the bottom of the fire escape when the back of my hoodie is yanked and I'm slammed into the opposite wall face first, a large body pinning me.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Noah?" Beckett's voice is low, dangerous, his hot breath skating over my ear.

Noah?

Who the fuck is Noah?

But before I can get a word out, Beckett spins me around, shoving my back into the wall. My head bounces off the brick, hard enough to make me grimace.

His hand wraps around my throat and squeezes, causing my breath to hitch.

A thrill runs through me at the contact, at the feeling of his body pressed against mine. This is what I've been craving, what I've been dreaming about since that night in his office.

He's seething, his face inches from mine, but I'm not afraid. If anything, I'm intrigued. Is this Noah guy the one who's been blowing up Beckett's phone?

"How'd you find me?" He snarls, pressing his forearm against my chest, pinning me in place.

He reaches up with his free hand, ripping the mask off. The cool air feels good against my flushed skin, and I can't help but smirk. "Evening, Becks."

"Novotny?" He blinks a few times, features scrunching as his grip on my throat loosens slightly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I lean forward, brushing my lips against his, just a teasing taste.

He growls, tightening his fingers around my throat, cutting off my air. "You need to learn to respect boundaries. This shit isn't okay."

Even as spots dance in my vision, I can't help but laugh and push into his grasp, winking at him. "Oh, come on now. We both know you want me."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"So, you just enjoy using my throat, then tossing me aside like garbage after you blow your load?"

"What?" Beckett's eyes widen, and he abruptly lets go of my throat and steps back. "That's . . . that's . . . You're not garbage."

"Oh, so is it because of Noah, then?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about." He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as he paces. "I left because I fucked up. I'm your coach, Viktor. I crossed the line. You're off-limits."

I roll my eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. Don't give me the power dynamic speech."

"It's not a speech, it's—"

I cut him off, not wanting to hear it. "None of the staff at Crestwood really have any power, Becks. The power belongs to the families of the students. Well, except for the scholarship students, of course."

Beckett's jaw clenches. "Doesn't matter. We can't do this."

"Be honest with me. If I'd signed with the Islanders rights after the draft, and you ran into me at a bar, would you have fucked me?"

His jaw ticks.

"Well, would you have?"

"Yeah." He shakes his head. "But that's not reality, so nothing can happen between us again."

I start trailing my hand down his chest, over his abs, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. "That ship sailed the moment you had me on my knees, Coach . The moment you fucked my face."

He grabs my wrist, stopping my exploration. His eyes are dark, dominating. "Remember what I said, Chaos. Don't take what's not given."

There it is again. That nickname. Does he even realize he's saying it? It makes me feel all fluttery inside, like I'm special.

I push the envelope, pressing my body against his once more, feeling the hard ridge of his erection against my hip. "But you want to give it to me, don't you, Coach ? You want to lose control again."

Beckett's hand comes up, smacking my cheek. It's not hard enough to really sting, but it makes me whimper and my hips buck, my throbbing dick brushing against his muscular thigh.

He hisses through his teeth, stepping forward and pinning me between his chest and the brick wall.

"Are you going to punish me, Becks?" I ask, my voice breathy, needy.

He doesn't answer, just guides me to keep dry humping his thigh, harder and faster. I grip his arms, riding him shamelessly. "Beckett . . . Ohhhh, fuck."

I'm panting and whimpering, my body desperate and strung out, the friction driving me out of my mind. Everything coils up and I'm right there, right on the edge.

Beckett's mouth lowers to the shell of my ear. "Go home, Viktor. And knock off the stalking shit."

He steps back, putting distance between us, then walks away.

He can't leave. Not again.

"Wait!" I call out, hating how desperate I sound. "Becks, please."

But he doesn't turn around. Doesn't even pause. He just keeps walking, leaving me alone, frustrated and aching.

I lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath.

I don't get it. I'm offering myself to him on a fucking platter. Why won't he just take what he wants?

Because of this Noah guy? Because of some bullshit idea about power dynamics?

Or because . . . he doesn't want me?

"Chaos, get the fuck over here. Now."

My eyes open and I whip my head around. Beckett's standing at the curb, arms crossed. I pick my mask up off the floor, then jog to him.

"Since you want to push boundaries and continue to disobey me, your hands stay off your fucking cock."

My brows lift, mouth gaping. "What?"

His features tighten. "You heard me. No fucking coming."

A shiver runs down my spine, excitement mixing with the ache of denial. "For how long?"

He steps closer, gripping my chin and forcing me to look him in the eyes. "Until I say so, brat. And if you disobey me, if you even think about touching this . . ." His other hand ghosts over my dick, barely a whisper of touch, but it makes me whimper. "I'll know. And the consequences will be severe. Understand?"

I nod, my mouth dry, my heart pounding. "Yes, Coach."

"Good boy."

He releases me, then crosses the street back to his building. A grin spreads across my face, a giddy, reckless sort of joy bubbling up in my chest as I practically skip toward my stalkermobile to head home.

I'll take this as a win even though I would've rather him fuck me senseless.