Wicked Game

Chapter 1

Again, PLEASE read chapter 2 before commenting! (I mean, if you want to get mad, you're going to get mad, but... things are explained, I promise.)

"Finn? Finn!" Rhea ran down the hotel hallway after her Judgment Day teammate. "FINN!"

Rhea was almost right beside Finn when he finally turned around, eyes widening in surprise. "Rhea. Hey!" Pointing to his ears, he took off his headphones. "Sorry. Couldn't hear you. What's up?"

"Have you seen Priest?" Rhea asked. "Stupid airport lost my fucking luggage, so I don't have my gear."

Finn frowned. "Again? I thought you were packing that in your carry-on after what happened before."

"I know, I know, I was. But I got... distracted and I forgot." Rhea sighed. She didn't want to say she had been distracted by looking at the pictures of Liv she still had on her phone, tucked in a random folder. There was nothing risque about them and they had all been taken with Liv's permission, but Rhea had broken up with her not long after joining Judgment Day, so she was trying to make it look like she had moved on.

"Haven't seen him, no. I thought I heard noises coming from his room on my way back up from the gym," Finn hedged, "so he... uh, might be busy."

Rhea rolled her eyes. She knew Damian's habits back from their NXT days together and walking in on one or two naked women didn't faze her. "Whatever. He can spare a couple minutes. Your stuff won't fit," she added, "and I've worn his before, so at least there's continuity, I guess. Maybe I should start giving him my gear for safe keeping."

Finn just shrugged. "I mean, you can go ask if you want to, but... it was pretty loud, and he definitely wasn't alone...."

Rhea waved off his concern. "She'll be more embarrassed than I will, I can guarantee you. Thanks, Finn. See you at the arena." She checked her phone quickly, found Damian's room number, and turned around. "Why didn't I just start there?" she muttered to herself as she stalked down the corridor.

Because you were hoping he would be with Finn so he wouldn't tease you about losing your gear again, her scathing inner voice replied.

Damian's room was almost at the other end of the floor and once she got within sight of the door, Rhea knew Finn wasn't making anything up. The distinctive sound of an ass being slapped was followed by a low growl—Damian's, most likely—and a long, throaty moan, rising in a crescendo to a plea for more.

Rhea was surprised to recognize that voice too—or more accurately, the moan. "Liv?" she whispered, nearly tripping over her own feet. It brought her to the door quicker than she expected and when she reached out to get her balance, her elbow bumped the door instead. "Hello?" Damian called out.

"Come to the door, Priest." Rhea tried to make her tone as crisp and icy as ever, even as her heart twisted. "I'm in a hurry."

Damian's chuckle rumbled through the door. "Little busy in here, Rips."

"Not caring out here," Rhea snapped back. "It's important. Hurry up."

"Okay, okay." Damian's voice dropped a bit—no doubt murmuring something to Liv about being right back—and a few moments later, he was at the door, shirtless and with his pants hastily pulled on and undone. "What is it, Rhea?"

"The bloody airport lost my luggage," Rhea said, tone clipped. "Can I borrow some of your gear again?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, expecting him to drag it out and make her say please, but Damian just swept his hair over his shoulders and nodded. "Sure. Gimme a minute. It's a bit messy."

As he walked away from the doorway to his luggage, Rhea slipped inside and shut the door, leaning against it. Sure enough, there was Liv, her face peeking out between her mussed hair and the equally rumpled sheets she was clutching to her chest. "Hey," Liv said, cheeks flushed as she struggled to cover her legs as well.

Exertion, not embarrassment, Rhea's traitorous side teased her. She gave Liv a curt nod and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look bored and unbothered. "Hey. I won't be long." She bent down and picked up Liv's bra, tossing it further in the room. The last thing Rhea wanted was to leave Damian's suite with Liv's bra clinging to her boot like toilet paper.

"Oh, I can... Damian, if you want," Liv stammered, clutching at the sheet, "I can leave—"

"No need. Rhea's not staying long." Damian dug through his luggage until he found a pair of shiny black pants. "Will these—"

Rhea barely even glanced at what was in his hands. "They're great. Thanks. I'll give them back to you later." Then she messed up and looked at Liv. "Tomorrow. I'll give them back to you tomorrow at breakfast," she said, opening the door.

"Rips, wait." Damian murmured something quick to Liv and followed Rhea out into the hallway, grabbing her arm before she could get too far. "What's wrong?"

Rhea pushed him away. "Zip up your bloody pants or go back to fucking my ex, whichever you can get done faster."

Damian straightened up, holding Rhea's gaze firmly. "Excuse you? You're the one who broke it off with her. You don't get to be pissed about who she's fucking now."

"No, but I can be pissed at you." Rhea gestured angrily at the door. "Seriously? Out of all the women on the roster," she hissed, "you had to pick her? Why?"

Damian shrugged. "She's single. I'm single. You were always talking about how much fun you had with her," he said simply, "and we both got to the hotel early, so I asked if she wanted to go get a drink. We got to talking...."

"And then you asked if she'd like a good spanking to go with her daiquiri, is that it?" Rhea rolled her eyes. "Whatever, man. Go enjoy. Thanks again for the pants." She could feel tears stinging her eyes, but there was no way in hell she was going to cry in front of him—not even out of frustration—when his fly was still open and his dick was still wet from fucking Liv.

Damian called out after her, but made no move to follow. Rhea didn't mind in the least, She was half tempted to burn his stupid pants after her match. So much for Judgment Day being a family, she thought as she opened her door and stormed inside. Then she tossed the borrowed pants to the floor, flopped on the bed, and screamed into a pillow. It was better than crying.