OverTime (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 9)

by Bianca Sommerland

  “He could have been mine, Ford. And he is yours. Which is pretty much the same. I love you and that means I love your son. He’s part of you.” Cort pressed his lips against Ford’s forehead. “Every decision I make from this point on includes him. When we go pick him up so you can get to know him better, I won’t forget that. I’ve had to deal with assholes like Kyle before and they’re still alive. I’ve got this.”

  “Okay.” Ford tugged at his ankle and laughed. “Wanna untie me, man?”

  “Shit, sorry about that.” Cort shoved off the bed and reached down to release Ford completely. “You’re doing better than I expected. When I use the whip, I keep you tied up for longer because you freak when you don’t feel the restraints. But Pischlar noticed you needed them off before I did.”

  “I don’t know what he saw. I was gone, man. Floating. It was cool.” Ford pressed his eyes shut. “But I couldn’t stay there, much as I wanted to. Part of me kept latching on to what I needed to do.”

  “Has that changed?”

  “Yeah. I’m not the only one Jaxon has to look out for him. And how fucked up would it be if he somehow found out what his uncle is trying to do? And that I gave in?” All this dirty, low, backhanded shit was what he’d grown up with. Blackmail, manipulation and threats. His son deserved better. “I have a good job. So do you and Akira. With the right lawyer, there’s no reason I won’t get custody.”

  “That’s right. And we’ll get one. I’ll mortgage the shop if that’s what it takes. It’s worth a lot after all the work I’ve put into it.”

  “You don’t gotta do that.”

  “I do. Your son—our son—is worth it.”

  Ford inclined his head. He loved that Cort was ready to stand by his side to raise Jaxon. He didn’t have to be so fucking scared of doing this alone and fucking up somehow.

  But there was still one issue they had to discuss. “Akira might not be ready for all this.”

  Cort grunted, tightening his grip around Ford’s shoulders. “Give her time. She’s been dealing with a lot all at once. Her school, Jami, worrying that you’re gonna get yourself in some kind of trouble because the team might be sold.” His brow furrowed. “I should have asked you about that. Fuck.”

  Nope. They weren’t going there. Jaxon had to be the focus. The team came second. And Ford didn’t want to know how Cort would react to what he’d already done. If things went as planned, the team would be here for years to come and the pieces he’d moved to buy his family time wouldn’t even register. In the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t a big deal.

  “Silver has some connections. Knows people with money. We’ve talked a bit, but we’re being careful.”

  “Uh huh. Not worried at all. I’m sure she’s discussed all this with her men and there’s no reason for concern.”

  After what they’d just gone through, Ford couldn’t lie. So he simply muttered against Cort’s shoulder. “No comment.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Cort sighed and pushed off the bed. “Are you feeling okay? I’ll be right back, but I don’t want to leave Pisch waiting. He was right, doing this messed with my head, but I’m good with it knowing you are.”

  “Do you think Akira will be home tonight?”

  “She wants to be. She stopped by Jami’s place after practice. If the little mommy-to-be is doing okay, she shouldn’t be long.”

  “Okay.” Ford’s eyes blurred, his eyelids heavy. “I’m gonna rest a bit. Tell Pisch I said thanks. I don’t think you could’ve done this without him.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  Cort leaving the bed had Ford shivering again, but he wrapped himself tight in the blankets, settling his head on the pillow and letting himself drift away. Life was so fucked up, but at least he was sharing some of the burden. He’d tried to push Cort away and the man had forced him to face one simple truth that would never change.

  When Cort claimed someone, it was forever. Unless they crossed the line of what Cort considered acceptable. The man had his limits. Ford hadn’t reached them.

  Yet.

  Chapter 11

  Stepping over the threshold into his condo, Shawn inhaled slowly, all the tension that had settled in his shoulders still weighing him down, but he could breathe a little easier. He was home. After locking the door some sense of security returned. He knew exactly what was messing with his head, but wasn’t about to examine it. Not now.

  Maybe not ever.

  Slipping out of the calf-length leather boots he wore under his suit pants, a soft laugh from the kitchen brought a small smile to his lips. The big worn sneakers by the door, set neatly beside a pair of cute little light blue runners, told him both Justina and Ian were home. He almost wanted to slip back out and give them more time alone—time they didn’t have enough of. Their relationship had developed in a slow burn over weeks, but now they had something that was all their own. Like he had with each of them.

  He’d never thought he wanted a relationship. Never mind two. But somehow, they’d each found their way into his heart, into one another’s, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn’t feel tied down. Smothered. Maybe them having one another helped. He still played at the club, teaching new Doms and subs, or joining in scenes like he had today. And neither Justina or Ian ever made him feel guilty.

  But…he didn’t play the way he used to when he’d earned the nickname ‘Easy’. Just last week, while teaching a new Dom how to restrain his pretty little sub, he’d backed out after the lesson was learned, ignoring the offer to participate. Unless Ian or Justina were with him, sharing in the wild fun, he just…wasn’t interested.

  And he wasn’t bored either. Which was new. He’d played with subs as inexperienced as Ian and Justina before, but had only experienced a momentary thrill. With the man and woman he loved, every scene fulfilled him in a way he’d never experienced before. He’d thought his rules kept things simple, but shallow sex didn’t compare to caring about the pleasure and pain delivered. To knowing that little smile days after came from what he’d done, the effort he’d made.

  Not having the constant pressure on him to take care of them both all the time helped as well. They were independent. When he wasn’t around, they supported each other, shared interests and sweet moments like any normal couple. He never felt tied down, just…like he was part of something special.

  Though…for some reason, having a relationship that fit him perfectly hadn’t fixed all the broken pieces inside him. Which he hadn’t even considered until he’d agreed to help Cort. Ford needed what they’d done together. And Cort needed to know pushing to get his man to talk wasn’t wrong. Ford had wanted to share. His own inner demons were holding him back. Shoving them aside by overwhelming his senses, by drawing out his deep need to please Cort, had been effective, but neither Cort or Shawn had been prepared for what he’d been hiding.

  During the drive home, Shawn kept picturing Ford alone with the fucker who’d groped him. Only, the man became the one who’d forced himself on Shawn months ago. He hadn’t stopped there. He’d beaten Shawn after, disgusted with himself for wanting him.

  Rubbing his hands over his face, Shawn jerked his focus back to his present reality, padding quietly down the hall so he could hear what had Justina giggling. Instead, he caught a disheartened groan from Ian.

  “You are not going to be traded over a tweet.” Justina sighed and the kitchen table creaked. “Look at me.”

  “I—” Ian laughed abruptly. “Stop that, I’m trying to be serious!”

  “And failing. Let me distract you. Becky said she’d handle it.”

  “She wouldn’t have to if I wasn’t so stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid. Don’t let Shawn hear you talking like that, he’ll have you in a cock cage for a week.”

  Lips slanted in amusement, Shawn stepped into the kitchen. “A week is a little excessive, but that is a suitable punishment, my sweet. We both know how much he hates them.” He wrapped his hand around the back of Ian’s nec
k before his man could stand, leaning forward to brush a soft kiss over Justina’s lips.

  Sitting on the table in front of Ian, Justina had her pink, sleepy kitten socked feet pressed between Ian’s thighs. Tawny brown hair done up in an adorably haphazard up-do, wearing one of Ian’s comic book shirts and little else, she was too flipping cute.

  An open tub of Ian’s new favorite ice cream, Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup, sat by her hip and she held a spoon in her hand. From the smear of chocolate on Ian’s forehead, Shawn had a feeling she’d been missing his mouth more often than not. A game he preferred to play naked, but if Ian was stressed about his contract, seduction would be difficult.

  Well, for Justina alone, anyway. Once Shawn tagged in, Ian wouldn’t stand a chance.

  But Shawn needed to know what the problem was first.

  “Your agent told you to let the social media department handle Twitter. What were you doing tweeting at all?” He tightened his grip when Ian hunched his shoulders, keeping him in place. “Don’t think. Just answer.”

  “I didn’t think and now Becky’s pissed and I’ll probably be shipped off to Vegas.” Ian sighed, bowing his head and letting his shoulder-length brown hair cover his face. “And I hate the fucking desert. And the heat. And all the casinos and—”

  Shawn bit back a laugh. He needed to introduce Ian to the more entertaining parts of Vegas the next time they headed down there to play. “Focus.”

  “People were talking shit about the team being moved. I got pissed and saw Carter had tweeted, so…”

  “Is Carter in trouble too?”

  Justina nodded. “Yes, but not as much. He’s on Twitter all the time and his manager encourages him to be silly and sarcastic. His fans love it. He deleted the tweet, posted a cute video with him and his puppy, and that was the end of it.” She reached over and rubbed Ian’s shoulder. “People freaking about what Ian tweeted helped.”

  “I see.” Shawn pressed his eyes shut and inhaled slowly. “Do you want to tell me what the tweet was or do I need to find out myself?”

  “It was one word.” Ian tipped his head back. “I just tweeted ‘Assholes’.”

  Brow furrowed, Shawn met Justina’s troubled gaze. “How could that be—”

  “He wrote that over a retweet that said ‘Get rid of all the damn queers and the team will be fine’.” She shook her head. “The LGBTQ+ community thinks he’s calling them—and the ‘out’ players on the team—assholes. Parents are freaking that a role model used that word at all. His agent, Becky, Luke, and a dozen other people called and texted and DM’d immediately, and he deleted the tweet within minutes, but it was already screencapped and is being spread like crazy.”

  “Jesus.” Shawn loosened his grip on Ian’s neck. “How long ago did this happen? Why haven’t I heard anything?”

  “Your phone was off. It’s only been about an hour…” Justina gave a little shrug. “He did try calling you first, but I’m glad he called me too. I might not know how serious this is, but Becky told him to lay low and let her and his manager handle this. I figured keeping him distracted would stop him from checking his socials every five seconds. Half the team called, but he’s not supposed to talk to them. Becky said the last thing they need is anyone coming to his defense and making things worse.”

  Shawn inclined his head, understanding the reasoning, but hating the idea of the entire team being muzzled because idiots online were looking for drama.

  He could easily distract the masses, he’d done it before, but his own position with the team wasn’t guaranteed. Not anymore. If the team was getting a new owner, players could be moved to rebuild an entirely different vision for the team. Nothing would be official until the sale was final, but if Keane had someone in mind he’d likely take strong suggestions for ways to make the team more appealing.

  A player who’d made himself a PR nightmare would be an easy choice to rid himself of. Becky could salvage the situation for Ian—Shawn wouldn’t risk making her job more difficult. His plan going forward revolved around proving both he and Ian were assets, no matter where the team went. And convincing Justina to make the move with them.

  He didn’t see Akira continuing to lead the Ice Girls if the team left Dartmouth. Her life was here. And Justina was already being trained as her successor.

  The three of them would be fine. So long as they weren’t separated.

  Which was a very real possibility now that Ian had gained so much attention. Damn it, why hadn’t he changed the password to Ian’s phone? And to all his accounts?

  Because you’re not a crazy person. Tone it down, Easy. White’s a grown man. He made a mistake. Deal with it.

  Cold dripped down Shawn’s cheek and he jumped, blinking at Justina as she grinned at him.

  “Sorry, you look like you could use some.” She brought the huge spoonful of ice cream close to his mouth, brushing it over his nose, her eyes sparkling. “Oops.”

  He caught her wrist and closed his lips around the spoon, moaning softly as the sweetness melted on his tongue. He was less fond of the peanut butter flavor than Ian, but he was in the mood for a treat.

  “How long did she say to keep him distracted?” Shawn tipped Justina’s chin up with a finger, licking a smudge of chocolate from the edge of her lips, assuming she’d taken the call from Becky. Ian wouldn’t have remembered the details while he was this stressed.

  “Until tomorrow. Keane is occupied with ‘personal matters’, so no worries about him, but Mr. Richter said Ian will be fined. Which is crazy.” Justina ground her teeth and reached out to take Ian’s hand. “Ten thousand dollars for one swear word? What’s wrong with that man?”

  “Nothing. I deserve it.” Ian leaned forward and rested his forehead on Justina’s knees. “I fucked up.”

  “You did. But don’t worry about the fine. I’ll cover it.” Shawn drew away and folded his arms over his chest when Ian frowned at him. “Don’t you dare refuse. Your money is tied up in your grandmother’s care and legal fees over the case of the fake Alzheimer treatment you were sold. Let me do this.”

  Ian’s jaw hardened. He opened his mouth, as though to protest.

  Justina pressed a finger over his lips. “This isn’t your problem alone, Ian. It’s ours. Remember the talk we had when I couldn’t afford my full share of the rent?”

  “He said you didn’t need to pay any of it.” Ian’s brow furrowed. “We both make more than you do. He was right.”

  Not this again. Shawn tipped his head back and said a silent prayer even as Justina shoved away from Ian and hopped off the table.

  “I could afford my own apartment, I can afford to contribute here. But I’m home more often and I can make up for the difference by cleaning up after you guys. We made an agreement and you still don’t get it?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. You should have more money for yourself.”

  Shut up, White. Once, Shawn might have said that out loud and tried to settle things between his lovers. But he’d learned to let them handle things themselves, no matter how much easier it would be to tie them up and fuck them until they were both happy again. Strange how that didn’t always work. Life was weird.

  “More for myself? Really? For what? You guys talk me into accepting nice gifts and dates to fancy restaurants. I don’t need anything. Maybe being able to contribute to our home, to our bills, doesn’t mean anything to you, but it matters to me.” Justina’s eyes teared. “Why is it okay for me to get gifts, to get help when I need it, but it’s not for you? You’ve been with Shawn every damn time I say I can’t take the pretty dresses, the jewelry, the trips to the spa with the other WAGS who are models and actresses and have money of their own. I’m expected to be okay with all that, but you’re too good to let Shawn help you with a fine you can’t afford to pay?”

  “I…” Ian pressed his eyes shut. “It’s not the same. You get stuff because we love you and you’re awesome and deserve the best. I’m an idiot and the idea of this costing us all so
much makes me sick.”

  “Enough.” Shawn’s hand was back on Ian’s neck before he’d even considered what he would do next. He’d tried to let them handle this, but fuck it. He wouldn’t let them hurt one another. Or themselves. “Things have been stressful lately. You did what I might have. Or even what Justina would have if she wasn’t so afraid to lose her job. Which is all kinds of fucked up, but one issue at a time. Consider this you having spoken for all of us. For the team. I guarantee everyone has your back. They get what you were trying to say even if the masses don’t. After all, you’re one of the ‘queers’ the assholes think shouldn’t be playing for the Cobras.”

  Ian stared at the floor. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

  “No. But you did. And Becky is amazing at crisis management. This will be a fucking walk in the park for her, so stop beating yourself up about it.” The tension building up between Shawn’s shoulders eased away as Ian leaned back against him. He slid his hand to the front of Ian’s throat and whispered in his ear. “It’s so much more fun when I beat you.”

  “Shit.” Ian shuddered, his pulse quickening under Shawn’s palm. “Will you?”

  “I will. We have instructions to distract you. And that’s one of my specialties.” Shawn brushed his lips over Ian’s cheek. “Besides, Justina needs some practice with the strap-on I got her and you owe her after that last comment. You get in less trouble with my dick in your mouth. I don’t mind making myself available.”

  Red spilled over Ian’s cheeks. And Justina’s. They’d been discussing the surprise gift for over a month and she still kept it under the guest room bed—where she never slept—in the black box he’d given it to her in. Chicklet had called him laughing after Justina had gone to her for tips. Justina saw wearing a strap-on as a thing only a Domme could do, and their dear friend Chicklet thought that was adorable.

  She’d offered to show Justina by using one on Shawn. Which had been tempting for a split second, but he still wasn’t sure how Justina felt about seeing him with another woman.