My body, the one that he tongued to a frenzy.

"Ow!" I yelped. I looked down and saw that a weight had dropped from my sweaty hands and grazed my toe. Shawna tossed me a towel.

"I'm fine," I said, waving to the concerned-looking team. None of us could afford an injury right now. Luckily most of the weight had bounced off my sneaker.

Damn you to hell, Keaton Lowe. You gorgeous, distracting dickhead.

After practice, we headed back to the hotel and my head was still in a Keaton-induced fog. I wanted so badly to focus, to purge him from my mind and get my shit together for the game. My entire life was this team right now-they had given me the scholarship when I'd normally never be able to afford to go here. Keaton, go fuck yourself.

If you won't let me.

After I had showered-and of course, visions of our first meeting flitted through my brain-I decided I needed advice.

I'd text Scarlett.

Callie had gone down with the other girls to grab some food in the hotel's restaurant, but I decided I'd order in. I wanted to be alone.

My fingers fumbled a text to Scarlett. Not sure if I'll be seeing him . . . he's being a bit wayward.

I didn't want to get into the whole situation, but hoped she could give me some tips on how to snap him out of this silliness. I had finally caved to the fact that I wanted to see him but wouldn't compromise my status on the team.

Cheeky boy, she texted back. The screen showed an ellipsis and I waited for her advice with nearly shaking hands.

Do you have your laptop? Scarlett asked.

I frowned at the screen. Yeah? I wrote back. Why was that important?

She quickly responded. I have a client coming in five minutes. I'm going to Skype you in. You're going to watch us and see what it means to have a man under your thumb.

All the breath escaped from my chest. I was going to watch?

Isn't that a bit personal? I texted back. Secretly, I did want to see it, but I figured I'd be polite.

Isn't that the fun of it? It's okay, people watch all the time. They usually have to pay, though. For you, gratis my dear.

I stared at the phone again. Oh my goodness, I was about to become a voyeur.

I typed a simple Cool, but it was not what I felt. I was hot, nervous, and pretty damn turned on. Scarlett gave me her Skype information, and within a minute, I was staring into a room with dark gray walls and a bed with crimson sheets. My pulse quickened.

Scarlett, who was wearing a red vinyl catsuit that displayed ample cleavage, flashed a little wave to the webcam and opened the door. A man was there, handsome and probably in his early forties, clad in a black tee and jeans.

He walked to the bed, not even making eye contact with her, and removed his shirt. His chest and stomach were very toned. I swallowed hard.

Scarlett approached the man and wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him to standing. I heard her bark at him for where he left his shirt. He hung his head and apologized as she let go of him, striding to the wall of instruments. I noticed many of the items I had seen at the Golden Apple. She picked a paddle.

"This is the third time I've had to tell you to fold your clothes in my domain," she said, teeth bared in a sexy snarl.

The man just kept his head low and I noticed an incremental nod.

"So I will punish you three times."

Without prompting, he bent over the bed, elbows on the satin sheets. He did not remove his pants. I was slightly disappointed.

Scarlett brought the paddle down over his ass with a thunderous thwack.

The man moaned, but it sounded distinctly like pleasure and not pain at all.

I watched her wind up, and then place a lighter smack right on his upper thighs. He didn't make a sound this time.

"Green," I heard him say.

Scarlett smiled and brought the pain again. And like before, it elicited a delightful groan.

"You may rise and remove the rest of your clothes," Scarlett said. The man stood up, a look of elation on his face, and unzipped his jeans. My eyes widened at his obvious erection. Scarlett looked very amused. My hand dropped between my legs. My body was hot and I was very noticeably turned on.

The man folded his jeans and then pulled down his dark red boxer briefs. My throat dried as I stared at his cock, which was large and very, very ready. Scarlett didn't even glance down at it. She simply nodded at his folding job and pointed to the headboard. He crawled onto the sheets and placed his hands up by the pillows of the bed, wrists touching. Scarlett opened a drawer that was by the bedside and pulled out a long skein of bright green rope. Its texture looked soft and I thought if it was the same type I had bought. I grabbed my duffel bag with my free hand and pulled my stash of goodies out. Idly I wondered when Callie would be coming back, but I was so turned on I didn't care. My fingers slid up and down the rope as I watched Scarlett tie the man's hands together and then loop it around the cherrywood frame of the large, red-sheeted bed. I pictured doing the same to Keaton.

My fingers pushed past my shorts and panties until I finally touched my swollen clit. The man bound to the bed wriggled with a desperate expression. He wanted Scarlett so badly. I wondered if his three punishments were the three smacks or if there was more to come.

At his side, Scarlett began to unzip her catsuit. Inch by inch, she revealed her flesh to him and he nearly bucked his hips right off the bed. She pulled the suit from her shoulders, exposing her large breasts, which were easily a D or maybe even double. Her nipples were small and dark pink, and she gave them a pinch as she pushed the skin-tight suit off her body. My fingers moved furiously, and I realized I wanted more freedom to touch, so I pulled off my shorts and panties and spread my legs wide on the bed. I slid two fingers inside myself and rubbed my thumb on my clit, watching Scarlett undress before the man with the huge cock. I imagined her as me, and him as Keaton. I wanted Keaton bound to a bed like that. I wanted to ride him.

Finally, Scarlett stripped the suit off her hips and was totally nude and standing over the man. She put a hand on her hip and stood there for a moment, seemingly thinking of what to do.

I wanted her to get on top, and I think that was what he wanted, too.

Instead, she spoke. "As your second punishment, I will be the one receiving pleasure today, not you. Open wide."

Scarlett mounted the bed and slid up to the bound man and straddled his face. She grabbed his hair and pushed his mouth between her legs. I nearly moaned as I watched his head bob between her legs, remembering how good Keaton's mouth felt between mine. She bucked against him, grinding her hips into his face. One of her legs slid up the headboard and she pushed harder. I watched his head move and I imagined what his tongue and mouth were doing, making her wiggle and writhe. Her hands pulled mercilessly at his head as he lapped at her cunt. I worked mine, wishing I had Keaton's face between my legs. I imagined his baby blues looking up at me so innocently. I loved the feeling of his tongue as it parted the folds of my body and tickled until I exploded.

I came hard on my hand as Scarlett straddled her submissive's face. I could still see her bucking, leg high up over his head, and the other's knee by his ear. The man's erection was harder than ever and I wondered if she'd give him relief.

But a sound down the hallway kept me from ever finding out. I slammed the laptop shut, gathered my clothes, and dashed into the bathroom just as Callie entered.

I cursed Keaton and Scarlett for turning me into a crazy, masturbating Dominant. But still, the euphoria lingered and I also silently thanked them. Some of the tension and frustration had eased out of my body, so after I showered, I knew I'd be able to focus on the upcoming games with a clear head.

And a somewhat satisfied body.

I sat in the locker room, ramrod straight and alert.

"You know this team," Coach lectured. "You know each and every weakness. Exploit it. Practice yesterday was the best I've seen all year. I think it took a sloppy win to show you girls that nothing's easy that's worth winning."

I blinked, trying to force thoughts of Keaton out of my mind. Nothing's easy that's worth winning, I thought to myself. I took the hard road, the right path. I was going to fight with every fucking ounce of strength in me tonight. If I wasn't going to be with him, I'd make damn well certain this sacrifice was worth it.

"Pops, you ready to nail it tonight?" Reese asked. I was surprised to be called out in front of everyone, but based on my lackluster performance two weeks ago, I deserved it.

"You bet," I said, finishing taping up my knee. I fought the emotions and concentrated on my lucky roll's last pass around my thigh.

"You looked good today," Donelle said. "You all did. We're going to kill it."

"Everyone in," Coach said, gathering the team for a circle. "Husky pride."

"Husky pride," we chanted back and broke.

We jogged out onto the parquet floor of the stadium to a chanting crowd. A sea of Tar Heels fans, all taunting us as we found our place and fanned out.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer said, "please rise for our national anthem."

The crowd went absolutely berserk. I've seen national pride in my life, but never a reception like this.

"O say can you see . . ."

My head whipped toward the singer.

Keaton.

"By the dawn's early light . . ."

My heart fluttered. He was looking straight at me. My hand moved from my heart to my mouth and he winked.

He knew he'd see me tonight.

As the song continued, I felt empowered by my choice. Regardless of the game's score, I won already. He was here to watch me play and I still had made the right choice.

The song ended in glorious applause, and we headed to the bench, ready to play. Trickster City had the best seats in the house, right behind us. As he assumed his seat directly behind our trainers and security guards, both his and ours, I smiled, but kept my head forward.

In the game.

As soon as my feet hit the court, euphoria bloomed inside me, propelling me across the parquet. I lived for these moments, and my body felt truly alive when I played. The rush I felt when I played basketball felt new and special with every game. It was terrifying, especially playing at this level, but the feeling of belonging and the muscle memory and its happy chemicals did the job every time. I loved, loved being out here.

The first half flew by exactly as I predicted, with UNC playing at half speed. There were constant turnovers, missed rebounds, and all-around balanced teams made for a very tough game to call. Each time I trotted out on the court, the amount of back and forth was unprecedented. Our teams were absolutely evenly matched.

And that's because I told the captains to get everyone playing at half effort as well, so we could match them in the second round.

They listened.

But I was still frightened. I knew that my effort could make or break the game, and having Keaton there in his seat, sunglasses on like a punk, smirking in my direction, certainly wasn't helping. But it also wasn't hindering. Every time I glanced his way, I felt a surge of energy. It was like he had become my lucky charm. Sometimes he'd flash a nod or a subtle thumbs-up, and I'd suddenly catch a wayward rebound or nail a tricky layup.

At the beginning of the second half, we were ahead. Each time I sunk a basket or shot a three, my skill felt like it doubled. Faster, stronger, stealthier. I completely dominated defense and on offense, I was becoming unstoppable.

"Rookie of the Year," Coach Dunks whispered when I sat down for a shift.

I leaned on my knees and focused, trying not to let the compliment sink in too far. The last thing I needed was a swelled head. Reese glanced my way and nodded. I had this.

The Tar Heels rallied at the beginning of the second half, just as I had predicted. Their coach had switched up positions and put in a few of their benchwarmers to mix things up. I admit it threw us off a bit. I tried my best again to avoid Keaton's presence, and my knee began to weaken.

"Shit," I mumbled to myself, running down the court. Next time I was on the bench, I'd get the tape. A funny-sounding whistle emitted from the crowd and my eyes immediately darted to Keaton. His glasses were off, and I could see even from far away that gorgeous baby blue gaze. He was holding my tape then kissed it.

Poof.

The pain I felt in my knee was drowned out by the surge of lust I felt for Keaton. I felt like I could take down the whole Tar Heels team myself. I took one last look at Keaton who made a fist and raised it in the air with a triumphant nod.

Rookie of the Year was back.

I stormed down the court, swiped the ball from a midair pass, and thundered back toward the net. Wanting to maximize the points and surprise the team, I stopped and shot a three instead of taking the inevitable layup. Nailed it. I saw my team hop up from the bench. In the five minutes of the game that remained, I managed to score fifteen points, putting us easily ahead.

The buzzer rang; we launched out of our seats and moved on to the next round as victors. Keaton clapped and blew me a kiss. I was on a winning streak, and my team was going to the next game.

Game two in North Carolina was a blowout. We won by a landslide and came home victorious, ready to play in the next round. Unfortunately, Keaton's show and my game kept us apart, but I couldn't just wait around and cross my fingers for Miami. So I made plans with him in a different way.

"No, seriously Callie, go without me." I feigned a look of longing to go out. It was sort of a cross between a puppy-dog face and a sad panda. "Too much work to do." Part of that was true. Since we got back from our North Carolina wins, it was like my homework load had doubled.

But I wasn't doing homework tonight.

Callie fixed her makeup one last time in the mirror. She always insisted on layering on foundation over her freckles, but I told her they were cute. Cute was not what she was going for. "This party's going to be amazing. I've heard that the boys from the team really put on a show."

I rolled my eyes. Apparently if the girls get further in the tournament than the boys, the guys have to do a little burlesque show for our team. It's pretty much the event of the year. Too bad I had much better things to do.

"Take some pics, will you?" I joked. "Just . . . not of Wes."

"He's been drunk pretty much twenty-four seven since the loss," she said, almost sounding sad. "I'd be surprised if he's sober enough to get in women's underwear."

"Go, and if you see Randall Black, please give his ass a grab. The way he manhandles girls at parties, the man needs a taste of his own medicine. God, I'm pissed I can't go," I said. Seeing the boys' team in their skivvies was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wanted to at least make it seem like she was getting the winning end of the deal here. Of course, she wasn't having a sexy session with a rock star in a few minutes.

She crossed her arms and probably read my mind. "You've got all the man candy you need, but fine. Just, will you finally tell me how big he is? I want it accurate, like down to the quarter of an inch." I had kept my mouth shut about all of our little escapades. As much as I had wanted Keaton to finally have sex with me, I knew that what he had planned for Miami would be better than an impromptu session in North Carolina. So I made a date for today.

Well, not an in-person date, but still something that would be fun and satisfying.

I snickered but said nothing. "See ya, Cal."

"See ya," she said, and the second our door closed, I fished into my goody bag and found my new vibrator. This was going to be interesting. The other items in there, the vinyl tape etc., sat unused. I knew they'd be put to good use at some point, hopefully in Miami. The fun Keaton and I had up until now was good practice, I realized. We were used to each other's bodies but still hadn't gone all the way. Getting more comfortable with him now would definitely make the big event much easier for me, so I wouldn't be as inhibited.

My phone buzzed against my thigh, an omen of things to come. You ready? it read. Oh, Keaton, you have no idea.

I flipped open my laptop but didn't dial into Skype just yet. I peeled off my soft yellow tee and skinny jeans to reveal the red and black lingerie set I bought with Callie a few weeks back at the mall. I had been saving it for Miami, but now I wanted to go buy more sexy things, so I figured now was a good time to debut the look. My body felt good against the satin, and when I glanced in the mirror, I really liked what I saw. Not just muscles, curves. Womanly, not as athletic as I usually saw myself.

I worked a bit of gel into my curls to tame them a little, then changed my mind and whipped my hair around a bit. Keaton enjoyed the wild look, and I felt even more goddess-like with virtually mermaid-quality locks. The head-whipping gave me a bit of a blush, too. Actually, I looked like I had just had some fun in the sack with Keaton already. I was glowing. Now was the time to log on.

The screen rewarded me with a gorgeous sight. I hit control F to take a screenshot for posterity. And, you know, solo sexy times.

Keaton was in a dark hotel room, illuminated by only the screen, and he had clearly just showered. His hair was wet, and I could see his body beaded with water. I could virtually smell the fresh scent of soap on him. He was lying on a chaise, draped across the chair with his wrists above his head, tied neatly.

"Hello Goddess," he purred. I took one look at his abs and decided I wished computer screens could endure licking.

"Hello yourself," I replied, feeling my body tighten just examining his form. Nobody should be that sexy. There should be a law.

He squirmed for a second, flashing his muscles, and dropped his head to the chair. "I wish you were here."

I stifled a moan. "Me too. I hope the next few days go by quickly."