Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Ass balanced on one sturdy thigh he drew up his feet so his knees were at his chest. Noah wrapped an arm around him and plucked a piece of toast from Jamie’s plate. Holding it to Jamie’s lips, Noah whispered “Open.”

  The command rumbled over his ear, a hot wash, and Jamie parted his lips as Curtis clattered into the bar, Reed behind him, and halted.

  “Oof.” Reed made an aggravated sound. “Curtis, could you… Oh. Okay, that’s...weird.”

  Snapping his hand down, Curtis landed a slap on Reed’s hip. “Behave.”

  “As long as I can keep watching.” Ducking his head under Curtis’s arm, Reed snuggled into his Dom.

  The toast still pressed against his lips, its rough texture a kiss Jamie instinctively knew not to take without permission. He’d come to know Noah’s quirks. Mind fucks, Curtis had called them on one very rare occasion when Noah had been out of earshot.

  “When you’re ready to focus, little cat?” The words were whispered for his ears alone.

  He blushed, caught out for the second time in as many minutes. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Mhm.” The sound rumbled from Noah’s chest. “Bite.”

  Jamie took the corner Noah gave him and bit. Salt hit his tongue, followed by the wheat bread’s nuttier notes. His jaw muscles tensed reflexively, and he began to chew.

  Noah tsked.

  Jaw freezing, Jamie widened his eyes. Oh shit. He would have laughed at the look on Curtis’s face, except he knew better. Yeah, he was in trouble, but it was kinda hot and he knew he didn’t have anything to worry about. Not from Noah.

  Noah lifted his palm. “Spit.”

  Nose wrinkling, he did as he was told. The morsel went onto a napkin and the toast corner reappeared at his mouth.

  “Let’s try that again, shall we?” Noah waited.

  Jamie waited.

  “Good boy.” Nuzzling his ear, Noah issued his next command. “Bite.”

  Jamie bit, and this time didn’t chew.

  The bread became a soggy mass before Noah said “Chew” and was ground to near-nothing between his molars before Noah said “Swallow.” The entire process repeated with his breakfast. At the last, Noah wiped his mouth with a napkin and tucked him closer.

  Noah trailed the tip of his nose along Jamie’s ear. “Better?”

  Jamie nodded, nestling in. “Yes, sir.”

  “What did you learn?”

  Biting down the urge to say, to step over your boundaries more often. He smiled. “That you give me what I need.”

  “And what you want, little cat.” Warm fingers cupped Jamie’s balls through his sweatpants and squeezed with just the right amount of pressure to mind fuck him into next week. “Lift your hips.”

  Heat hit Jamie’s cheeks as he caught on. “Is this the dirty as fuck part?”

  “It might be…” Noah’s grip tightened, making Jamie’s eyes water. “Or it could be the part where I tan your ass for Topping from the bottom.”

  Shit.

  Curtis snorted and Reed elbowed him in the ribs. Behind the bar, Matt leaned on his elbows, attention rapt.

  Lips pressed between his teeth, Jamie slid his feet to the floor and lifted his hips. Noah’s forearm banded across his chest, his free hand drawing down the sweatpants to just below his sac so it rested on top of the waistband. Before his head fell back against Noah’s shoulder, he met Curtis’s stunned gaze, saw the raw need in his eyes, and took in Matt’s open mouth. They were so fucking turned on. Best audience he’d ever had. Only Reed looked away.

  Noah ran the pad of his finger up and down his shaft, tracing the tissue between his balls, lifting them to run his touch underneath before pushing his sweatpants off, first one leg and then the other.

  “Put one of your thighs over each of mine.”

  “Oh shit.” Jamie whispered the curse, complying.

  The position stretched him wide, his dick bobbing freely. Arm still across his chest, holding tight, Noah slipped a hand between his crack and circled his hole, pressing lightly. Jamie groaned, hips swaying, his dick fucking the air at the gentle touch. Noah explored him like a sculpture, and then his ass again, as if it were the first time he’d seen and touched Jamie’s dick and not the hundredth.

  Noah withdrew and returned with two fingers, scissoring him open, prodding sensitive tissue and tight muscle until he relaxed. His body submitted and Jamie blushed, remembering how they’d explored some of Noah’s more inventive shower attachments last night. Precum trailed down his shaft, his awareness narrowed to Noah’s breath in his ear, the sound of the sleet, and cries he tried vainly to imprison behind his teeth.

  “Touch yourself for me.” Noah’s unexpected command sent heat rocketing from Jamie’s toes to the top of his head.

  He shook his head, a denial they both knew he wouldn’t hold to.

  “You’re still clinging to the illusion of control? That’s...cute.” Noah shifted his thighs, raising Jamie’s hips and deepening his access. “The only opinion you need to worry about, little cat, is mine.”

  Another finger joined the second, the dry fullness becoming a less-pleasant ache. Jamie brought hands he hadn’t knowingly wrapped around the back of Noah’s neck to his thighs. Tentative fingers brushed his shaft. His own. Not as good as Noah gripping him, but disappointing his Dom wasn’t an option.

  He worked himself over in strokes synchronized to Noah’s thrusts, gathering the precum from his slit with his palm. His hand slowed when Noah’s slowed, sped up when Noah’s fingers rocked into him in percussive slaps. Best rhythm track ever. Mouth open, head rolled back, he brushed his cheek against Noah’s beard, nuzzling and panting in need. The warmth of Noah’s skin against his, encouraging words, not-so-sweet nothings that told him exactly how much his Dom enjoyed fucking his tight ass, watching him fist his pretty cock. Jesus that last turned him on and embarrassed him in the most twisted way. He wanted more. Whatever Noah would give him.

  “Hands around my neck, boy. Don’t let go.” The words were rough in his ear.

  Jamie lifted his hands to the back of Noah’s neck as his Dom fisted him, jacking him in tight strokes that sounded like slaps. “No-No-ah. Shit.”

  He came without warning, come slickening Noah’s fist, and the slaps turned wet. So fucking dirty, his desperate pleas filling his own ears, filling the room. Noah widened his thighs. Ass dropping, Jamie clung to his Dom’s neck as Noah worked his hand over him, not quitting, even after pleasure turned to a thin slice of pain. His cries changed, tipping into desperation, his fingernails digging into the back of Noah’s neck.

  “Please.” He choked out the word, loving every terrible moment, not knowing quite what he begged for anymore.

  Noah’s hand slowed, his fist unclenching, fingers resting lightly against Jamie’s shaft until just the backs of his knuckles trailed up and down, sending electric aftershocks up Jamie’s spine.

  He shuddered again, and Noah kissed his temple, lingering. “What you want. What you need.”

  Jamie nodded, unable to speak. He couldn’t fucking move. Noah’s palm lifted, nudging his lips. Like he had with the toast, Jamie opened at Noah’s command.

  “Lick.” Noah kissed him again. “There’s a good boy.”

  The taste of Noah’s skin, his spicy soap, and the earthier scents and tastes of sweat and come, invaded Jamie’s senses, sending him flying. He nuzzled and sucked, licking around fingers and the space between, the rough calluses and meaty flesh below Noah’s thumb. By the time Noah pulled away, Jamie’s breaths had calmed.

  After slipping behind the bar to wash up, Noah returned, bent for his sweatpants and dressed him with care. Looping his arms around Noah’s neck, Jamie curled his knees upward and nestled in strong arms.

  Quiet voices, movement, someone taking away the plates and replacing Noah’s mug with a fresh cup of coffee. Jamie registered the motion around him and slowly drifted back into the room while Noah read a folded section of the paper and drank his second cup.

  He turned his head,
taking in the paper. The letters danced in front of his face, seeming to jumble around each other. A puzzle that always made him nauseous to attempt.

  “I can’t read.” He said the words out loud for the first time and expected to feel shame.

  Except he didn’t. He felt safe. Like he could be himself, and even if parts of him were broken Noah would show him how to fix them.

  Noah kissed the top of his head and put down the paper. “I wondered when you would tell me.”

  Jamie drew back. “You knew?”

  A smile softened Noah’s mouth. “Wren.”

  “Oh.” Tucking his chin, Jamie chewed his lip. “I guess, I’m glad he told you.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Unused to being given an option, not sure he wanted one now, Jamie nodded. “May I move to my own chair, sir?”

  “Yes.” Noah gave his hip a pat. “My leg is asleep. You’re not as light as you look.”

  Jamie laughed. “It’s all of Reed’s chicken wings. Fucking evil.”

  Matt’s quiet, “How come he can say fuck and I fucking can’t” reached Jamie’s ears, and he couldn’t help himself. Throwing a flirty grin over his shoulder, he sat, waggling his brows Reed-style and said, “We negotiated.”

  Lifting his mug, Noah met Lawson’s eyes over the rim, dark humor in his gaze. Lawson, who had come down sometime when Jamie had been totally blissed out, hooked an arm around Matt’s neck and whispered something against his ear that had Matt’s eyes glazing with pleasure. Palm cupping the back of Matt’s neck, Lawson maneuvered his boy out of the bar and into the gym. Curtis and Reed sipped coffee and ate cereal at the bar, talking quietly. Reed laughed, his nose wrinkling at whatever Curtis said, and Jamie smiled.

  “You were saying?” Noah folded his paper in precise creases.

  “There was never time enough…” Jamie skipped his gaze to the window, sinking into memories he hadn’t explored in a while. He shook his head, shrugging. “I just can’t. It’s not like I haven’t tried. And the harder I try the worse it seems to get. I couldn’t even read the shit they put in the paper about me the day after we met.”

  His manager and Trevor had known, nobody else, and only because he couldn’t hide it from them. At least until he was eighteen, his parents had to sign his contracts—

  “Hey.” Tugging his wrist, Noah laced his fingers through Jamie’s. “It’s not uncommon. Nobody ever got you the right kind of help?”

  Jamie laughed. “My manager said there were more important things to spend my time on. He took care of the paperwork and helped me memorize things.” Pretty much he only had to hear something once to remember, so he knew he wasn’t stupid. “I’m just defective.”

  Sighing, Noah snapped his fingers to Curtis who turned, one brow up in question, like the sound was hardwired to his brain. “Get me some paper and a pencil. One of those yellow pads of yours.”

  The man disappeared to the office and came back carrying both items. Handed them to Noah. Jamie watched as Noah wrote something down, then tore off a piece of paper from the back of the pad. Folding it, he made another tear. A long strip disappeared from the middle, making a window. Placing the window over one of the lines he’d written, he flipped the pad around so it faced Jamie.

  “See if this helps.” Running his finger above the words so he pointed out only the one Jamie needed to focus on, Noah nodded his encouragement.

  Poking his tongue at the corner of his mouth, Jamie frowned down at the paper. Blinked. The letters had shifted. His heart rate increased, and he met Noah’s gaze. “It says, ‘You are mine’.”

  The paper moved down, so the window focused on the next line. “And this?”

  Jamie grinned. “‘Little cat’.”

  “You’re not defective.” Thumb and forefinger holding his chin immobile, Noah leaned in to kiss him and pulled back a fraction. “Say it.”

  Searching Noah’s gaze, Jamie nodded. “I’m not defective.” And he wasn’t. Not with Noah.

  He was perfect.

  Chapter Ten

  The wind howled, disturbing the peace of the morning as a storm moved in, and Noah pulled out his phone to check the weather. Snow wouldn’t be an issue yet, but soon he’d have to check the contract for removal and de-icing. Make sure all the bikes were securely stored away. The HVAC got a filter change and maintenance. All routine things he’d been handling for years.

  Which Lawson had probably already taken care of.

  Why am I even here?

  He rubbed his hand over his mouth and shook his head, rejecting the urge to let restlessness take hold. The past two weeks with Jamie had been like the ideal vacation, everything he needed to recharge, everything Jamie needed to settle into his role as Noah’s sub. They’d gone over every single word of the membership contract together and he’d had Jamie sign it again. Stamped the date beside the second signature.

  A reminder that the first one didn’t count. The brutal punishment he’d inflicted had been given without informed consent. He kept that in mind whenever he was tempted to work a little harder on disciplining his boy.

  Jamie was fine as he was. His surrender was beautiful. Who gave a fuck if it didn’t align with anyone’s standards but his own?

  Clearly the entire damn club. He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. He’d heard the whispers that he’d gone soft and couldn’t give a single fuck. Let them test him and see how ‘soft’ he was then.

  The problem was, he wouldn’t be the one they’d be testing. His jaw hardened as he walked into the gym where he’d sent Jamie ahead to begin his bi-weekly training with Matt. Noah had no intention of ever letting another man challenge his sub, but since this was a fight club, Jamie should at least be able to defend himself. Fighters sometimes gave in to the urge to solve problems with their fists outside of the ring. Which was technically against the rules, but there’d been brawls a time or two that involved too many members to start ejecting everyone permanently.

  In prison, even after Noah had given Wren his protection, the man had gotten hurt when he was out of Noah’s reach. The self-defense Noah taught him had spared him permanent injury—or worse—several times. As much as Noah wanted to believe he could fight every battle himself, he was aware of his limits. Such as guards and bars and his inability to walk through fucking walls.

  He touched the thin scar on the back of his hand when he’d blocked a razor blade shoved into the base of a toothbrush which had been intended to slip between Wren’s ribs. Dismissed the image and replaced it with the one of Wren curled up on the sofa where he’d seen him only moments ago. Safe. Whole. No one would ever come after him again.

  And God help any man who laid their hands on Jamie outside of the ring. No one used violence against those who belonged to Noah, least of all his little cat.

  But it wouldn’t hurt to give his boy some claws.

  Up in the ring, black shirt and gyms shorts contrasting with Jamie’s shorter white ones and his tank top, Matt corrected Jamie’s positioning. He shook his head at a weak punch that would have broken Jamie’s wrist if he was aiming at anything other than air. Demonstrated and motioned for Jamie to try again.

  Circling the ring, Noah frowned as he took in Jamie’s stance. The awkward way he moved into a defensive posture.

  Almost as though he had no idea what he was doing.

  Noah stepped up to the ring, resting his forearms on the bottom rope. “It’s been three weeks since I requested you begin Jamie’s training, hasn’t it, puppy?”

  Matt’s head shot up and his throat worked. He glanced over to the side of the ring where Curtis had been supervising, half his attention on his phone, then looked back to Noah. Cleared his throat. “It’s been slow going, but he’ll figure it out.” Matt’s lips slanted when Jamie grinned at him. “Just gotta get him a bit more focused.”

  Nodding slowly, Noah continued his leisurely stroll around the ring, thinking back on the reports Matt had given about Jamie’s progress. “Funny, you di
dn’t mention he lacked focus. You said he was working up a sweat during every lesson and practicing a lot. Has he regressed since?”

  “No…” Matt rubbed the back of his neck. His expression told Noah he was choosing his words very carefully. “Reed had an idea of him mixing some of his dance skills in to make things easier.”

  Jamie snickered, giving Matt a nudge before his warm, green eyes met Noah’s. “There’s been more dancing than fighting, but I’ve been having fun, sir. It’s not Matt’s fault he can’t dance for shit.”

  One tap to his own lips to let his boy know he should be quiet and Noah returned his attention to Matt. Stopping by the red corner, he took the first step leading up to the ring. “I forget when I asked Reed to train him in the ring. Refresh my memory.”

  Matt’s jaw ticked. “Reed taught me how to fight here. So did Curtis.”

  “Are we discussing your training now?” Noah’s brow rose. “And Jamie’s the one who can’t focus?”

  “What the f— What do you expect from this training, sir?” Matt’s catch had been smart, but his tone left much to be desired. And he didn’t stop there. “Because this is the first time he’s not bitching about how much he hates throwing a punch. Progress.”

  “So you lied to me.”

  Incredulous laughter escaped Matt’s lips. “Are you for real? I—”

  Vaulting over the ropes, Curtis put a firm hand on Matt’s shoulder. Held his gaze until he shut his mouth, then turned to address Noah himself. “He’s doing his best, Noah. His schedule’s packed between working here and at the community center. I’ll work with Jamie more if you want.”

  Head cocked, Noah regarded Curtis for a few beats. The way he stepped in for Lawson the second the man left a room was intriguing. At least he hadn’t adopted the other Dom’s attitude, but Noah was tired of every damn person in this establishment treating him like a fucking monster the awkward, mouthy pup needed protecting from. He couldn’t recall the last time they’d had a conversation without someone silencing Matt and speaking for him.