Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball-Chapter 217: Where We Go at Night

Saya stormed through the narrow alleys behind the market, her heels clicking loudly on the broken pavement.

Her ponytail was messy now, some strands sticking to her sweaty neck. She didn’t care. The cherry lip balm she’d kept applying tasted bitter now, like defeat.

The word "leftovers" kept echoing in her head, getting louder each time.

She had actually offered herself to him, and he’d called her Roam’s leftovers.

Shrimp. That bastard Shrimp had looked right at her and said she wasn’t worth lowering his standards for.

She stopped under a flickering neon sign for "Lucky Dragon Noodles." Her chest burned. Not just anger, something worse.

Pain. Stupid, childish pain.

How? How could rejection from him, the same boy she was disgusted about, who had been humiliated in the locker room, whose dick she’d mocked, feel like a punch to the chest?

She pressed her palm against her sternum, trying to push the pain away. It didn’t work.

Her phone vibrated violently in her pocket.

She yanked it out angrily.

It was Coach Vargas:

"Got a dreal with the Raptors boys. Need you tonight. Warehouse 17, pier 4. 23:00. Rin’s already on her way. Don’t be late, Princess."

Saya stared at the message until the screen dimmed.

Warehouse 17. The same dirty place they always used when they needed a chance to win.

Rin would be there, perfect, obedient Rin who smiled while three guys were taking her.

Her thumb hovered over reply.

She typed: "Go to hell, I’m not your whore tonight."

Deleted.

Typed: "Tell them to fuck themselves. I’m done."

Deleted.

Her throat tightened. She could already hear Vargas gross laugh if she didn’t show. See the team put their next lose on them.

And now, she had no other escape in view.

She shoved the phone back so hard the pocket tore.

"Fuck it," she hissed to the empty alley. "Fuck all of you."

Then she started walking toward pier 4.

Because she always did.

Later at the hangar, Nash practiced jump shots mechanically, not really seeing the hoop.

His mind kept replaying Saya’s face crumpling, her voice cracking on "leftovers." He’d wanted to let it out for so long, so why did it feel empty now?

The hangar door opened.

Victoria stepped inside wearing her usual armor: tailored black blazer, blood-red lipstick, heels that announced her before she spoke.

She stopped ten feet away, arms crossed, studying him like a racehorse she wasn’t sure she wanted to bet on anymore.

"You look tragic," she said. "Is my star player pining because he’s so far from my office?"

Nash caught the rebound, spun it on one finger. A small, tired smile on his mouth.

"Thought you were the one who said the best way to climb the league was to stay hungry. You refused the best option. So yeah... guess I’m starving."

Victoria raised an eyebrow.

"Cute. You’re getting philosophical now?"

He dribbled once.

"I’m saying you keep me at arm’s length, Vic. You act like relying on anyone, even the woman who technically signs my checks, is a mistake. But I’ve learned something lately."

She didn’t move. Just watched.

Nash took a slow step closer.

"The girls, they’re not just convenient. They listen, they improve, and they’re really doing great."

He shrugged.

"Sometimes the things you can’t solve by yourself... someone else can help carry the weight. That doesn’t make you weak. That makes you smart."

Victoria’s face stayed blank, but her body relaxed just a little.

Nash bounced the ball one more time.

"Ever consider maybe you need someone who actually cares what happens to you? Not because you pay them. Just because they do."

The silence lasted a long moment.

Then Victoria turned away, giving him her back. Her blazer clung to her shoulders like it had been sewn onto her skin.

"You’re sweet," she said. "Dangerously sweet." She paused. "But you also need to learn what you can’t swallow. Some bites are too big, Nash. Some people are too big. And you have no idea who’s really behind Baby-Boom."

She left without turning around.

Nash kept staring at where she’d been.

Then he missed his next shot.

Later at night, Nash lay in bed staring at the ceiling. In his mind, all the mess he was in.

- Befriend Aiko

- Find a way to help Victoria, without being eliminated in the process by herself

- Find a way to recruit the Baby-Boom girls

In other words, hell, he was done for. It was so much easier when he just had to do his dailies and being good in Breakball and in bed.

The bedroom door opened softly.

Zayela slipped in, the soft glow of the lamp making shadows dance on her smooth skin.

She looked effortlessly beautiful. Her body strong from her daily life but soft where it mattered.

She wore a deep red silk robe that clung to her like a second skin, thin enough that the light showed hints of what was underneath.

It barely reached her thighs, riding up a little when she moved, showing off her toned legs. Her breasts swayed gently beneath the robe, no bra to hold them back, the dark peaks pressing against the fabric gave it away.

Her dark hair were freed this time, and her lips curved in a smile as she watched him.

She walked over barefoot, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sat beside him.

"You’re brooding," she said quietly.

Nash smiled a little, lifting himself onto his elbow to look at her.

"You caught me. But don’t worry about it. I’m fine, really."

She moved closer until her knee pressed against his leg, warmth spreading through the thin fabric of his shorts.

"It’s Saya, isn’t it? Seeing her again... it messed you up more than you’re saying."

He let out a slow breath, reaching to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not like you think. She’s just... old history. Doesn’t change anything about us."

Zayela touched his jaw lightly, her fingers tracing the line.

"Then tell me what’s really wrong. You don’t have to pretend with me."

He caught her hand gently, turning it to press a kiss against her wrist, feeling the beat of her pulse against his lips.

"I’m okay. Just... too much going on in my head. Too many things left unfinished. But having you here? That’s enough. Don’t worry, you’re already doing more than enough."

She didn’t laugh or pull away. Her dark eyes held his, seeing right through him like always.

"You’re hiding again," she murmured, her other hand sliding up his arm to rest on his shoulder. "You do that when it hurts more than you want to admit. But I’m not letting you push me away tonight."

A warmth spread in Nash’s chest, but he kept his voice light.

"Oh yeah? And how are you planning to make me talk?"

A spark lit in her eyes. Without a word, she swung a leg over him, settling into his lap.

The robe rode up higher, showing more of her thighs as she pressed against him. Her weight was warm. She leaned down, her breasts brushing his chest through the thin silk, and whispered against his ear, "Like this."

His hands went to her hips, fingers digging into the soft skin where the robe ended.

"Zay, you don’t have to—"

"I want to," she said, cutting him off.

Her fingers tugged at the tie of her robe, loosening it slowly. The silk slipped off her shoulders, pooling around her elbows before falling to the floor.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Her breasts were full, swaying slightly as she moved, nipples hard.

Nash’s breath caught, his gaze dragging over her, the curve of her waist, the softness of her stomach, the way her hips flared.

"See?" she murmured, her hands sliding up his chest, pushing his shirt up. "This is me helping. Let me."

He huffed a rough laugh.

"You’re making it hard to argue." He helped her pull his shirt off, tossing it aside before dragging her down into a slow kiss. Her skin was warm under his hands, muscles shifting as she moved against him.

She deepened the kiss, her tongue teasing his, insistent. Her breasts pressed against his chest, nipples dragging against his skin. When she pulled back, her lips trailed down his neck, teeth grazing lightly. "Good. Stop arguing."

Her fingers hooked into his shorts, yanking them down. His cock sprang free, already hard, pressing against her inner thigh. A drop of wetness glistened at the tip.

Zayela wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly. Nash groaned, hips jerking into her touch.

"You feel that?" she whispered, thumb rubbing over the head, spreading the wetness. "That’s what you do to me too. Always."

His breath came faster.

"Zay... you’re killing me."

She smiled against his collarbone, then shifted her weight, lifting her hips just enough to press him against her entrance.

She was soaked, wet folds parting as she rubbed him against herself, coating him in slickness.

"Tell me you’re okay," she murmured, voice rough, "or I’ll stop."

His hands tightened on her hips, guiding her down just a little.

"I’m more than okay. Keep going."

With a soft moan, she sank onto him inch by inch, her body tight around him, hot and wet and perfect. Her thighs trembled slightly against his sides, breasts swaying as she settled fully against him.

And Nash let himself forget everything else.