Page 67 of Playing for the Dark
He grinds his hips into my ass, forcing a moan out of my throat even with his grip around my airway. I love the way he feels, forcing me against his solid body.
“Fine, I guess I have three men that won’t leave me the hell alone. The Cock Brigade, if you will.”
“Oh yeah, Cello, I’ll add you to the group chat!” Nash calls out to us. I look over at them both sprawled out on the couch beside each other, arms slung over the back of the couch, and their cocks tenting their pants.
I turn my head toward Marcello’s ear, whispering, “I think they like watching.”
With a smug tone, he says, “Oh, I know they do.” He places a kiss on the back of my head and taps my ass, telling me to go sit down.
I look down at my arm, remembering why I came in here, wondering out loud, “What the fuck did I do to my arm last night?”
Nash and Zamir look to Marcello for what I’m guessing is some kind of guidance on how to answer me.
Marcello’s back to his bacon on the stove but answers me like this is no big deal, “You cut the inside of yourarm pretty deep. Do you not remember Doc coming to stitch you up last night?”
I think back to last night, shaking my head. “No, I don’t remember anything after the shower with Nash.”
Nash is the one to speak up now. “You were putting your skincare on and dropped one of the glass bottles on the tile floor. It shattered everywhere, and you started to clean it up, even after I told you not to. I didn’t want you getting hurt, but you’re hard-headed as fuck. I went to get something to sweep it up and came back to your arm dripping blood onto the floor.”
“I called Doc, and he rushed over to fix you up. He glued it shut, but he said to keep those bandages on and keep them clean and dry.”
“Fuck, that was right after I took my sleeping pill too. They usually don’t hit me that fast, though. I’m sorry I made a mess, Cello. But also, what product was it? I’m gonna have to order a replacement.”
“I already delivered you a new one this morning. It’s on the counter in your bathroom.” I tense at “your bathroom” but don’t say anything. I’m comfortable with Cello and always have been. He’s so thoughtful, making sure I have all the products I need to feel normal. I usually have to worry about everything myself…
My nose starts to sting, and I can feel my eyes gathering tears. I’ve been taking care of others and myself for years. The fact that I’m getting this worked up over him replacing my skincare and making sure my cut wastaken care of—this is almost too much. “Thank you,” is all I can get out without getting embarrassingly worked up.
Walking over to the black suede bar stool, I pull it out from under the island, sit down, and get lost in my thoughts while I watch Marcello finish up cooking.
To say I fought tooth and nail to stay away from these three is an understatement.I meanfuck, I kept my feelings for Marcello to myself for years.
I swore off any kind of relationship for the longest time, but each one of them fought for me in their own way. My soul feels each of theirs and the different pull to each of them. Just like I know, Zamir’s broken soul needs Nash’s matching one.
I see the struggle my Big Boy wears all over his face, fighting with himself for the lust he has for a man. When he’s not plagued by his father’s poison and can let go of the views that were implanted in him growing up, I get to witness the true happiness behind his eyes.
Zamir filled me in the night we were all together. The other two fell asleep, and we talked for hours about everything, but really about what Nash had said in the shower. Nash’s bigot Father has him weary of opening up to Zamir like I know he could. I can feel the lure between the two of them; they need each other more than an alcoholic needs their next drink.
Hand in hand, Cello is leading me up to his box suite at the Rebels stadium. I hate being this far away from the field, but he insists we have to be due to safety, and I’ll do just about anything to get out of his goddamn apartment. I feel like a kept housewife who’s got an inch of slack on her leash.And not the good kind of leash and collar…
The guys have a bye week after this game and won’t have as many practices either, and I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with all of them. I get the gist that Zamir is equally excited but not about spending time with us, but for being side by side with Marcello for an extended amount of time. He’ll get to dip his toes deeper into the mafia life that I know he’s missed so much. His new nightly routine when he walks through the door at Marcello’s is asking for any new info Marcello’s gotten.
Zamir and Nash are down on the field lining up; they won the coin toss and just received the ball on kickoff. One of their special teams' men brought it all the way down to their forty-yard line, giving them a pretty good starting point. Cello comes up behind me in this ridiculously comfortable chair, handing a champagne flute over my shoulder. “For my,Ragazza Dolce.I never thought I would have you…” He trails off, staring downat the field, and I think maybe he’s done, but he keeps going, running his nose up my neck, and stopping at the back of my ear, whispering, “You’re never escaping me now, Ellie.” Turning my head, I meet his eye. We’re nose to nose, and he’s wearing an unnerving grin. Those words should scare me, especially mixed with the feral look he’s wearing, but the possessiveness this man holds makes my greedy cunt,throb.
Bringing my attention back to the field and my other two guys, it looks like they got a few yards on a run play and are lining up again. I’m mumbling to myself, “Throw play. Throw play.” I know Nash and Zamir have been on fire together the past couple of games, and this one should be no different.
Ashford snaps the ball to Nash, and he does his step back trying to get into the pocket, but they’re blitzing, and there’s a big-ass defensive lineman coming straight for Nash. I’m up out of my seat, screaming into the window in front of me like a loon. This is why I like being in the seats, especially when I’m so close to the sidelines; it makes me feel like my screaming is doing something.
Nash scrambles out of the pocket to the right side of the field and locks eyes with Z running down that same sideline. Out of normal throwing circumstances, Nash launches the ball downfield but still takes a nasty hit from the D-man. Z is wide open, catches the ball with ease, and practically dances it into the end zone.
Fuck the touchdown, is my Big Boy okay?!
1. Alkaline - Sleep Token
Chapter 53
Marcello
Ellie blows out a breath, sitting back down. “Nash is okay,Ragazza Dolce.” I whisper into her ear in a calming voice, pulling one of her curls in between my fingers. I know she worries about them, and no matter how reassuring we are, she still doesn’t like it when they take the hard hits. I think she’d rather a gun be pressed to one of our heads. She could control that situation, but the three-hundred-pound defensive man is where she draws the line.
