Pulling back, Lawson smoothed Matt’s hair away from his face and searched his gaze. “All good?”
Matt nodded, letting his eyes speak for him.
Lawson’s lips twitched. “That’s my boy.”
A smile narrowing his gaze, Matt lifted his face for another kiss.
The high from being loved by this man would never cease to amaze him. His head swam, endorphins sending him beyond the stratosphere and into his own private universe, one where even in a crowded room only he and Law existed.
Yeah. He was more than good.
He was home.
About Bianca Sommerland
Tell you about me? Hmm, well, there’s not much to say. I love hockey and cars and my kids…not in that order, of course! Lol! When I’m not writing—which isn’t often—I’m usually watching a game or a car show while networking. Going out with my kids is my only downtime. I get to clear my head and forget everything.
As for when and why I first started writing, I guess I thought I’d get extra cookies if I was quiet for a while—that’s how young I was. I used to bring my grandmother barely legible pages filled with tales of evil unicorns. She told me then that I would be a famous author.
I hope one day to prove her right.
* * *
For more of my work, please visit: www.Im-No-Angel.com
* * *
You can also find me on Facebook, and Twitter
About Tibby Armstrong
Tibby Armstrong is a Contemporary and Paranormal Romance author.
When she's not busy avoiding the gym, Tibby can be found munching on chocolate, sipping coffee, and scouring local bookstores for her next binge read.
For free reads and giveaways, news about new releases and events, connect with Tibby on social media and via her blog and newsletter at TibbyArmstrong.com.
Beyond Justice Excerpt
Blurb:
Raised and trained by The Asylum Fight Club’s most infamous owner, Reed Dane is almost untouchable. Might sound dope, but there are disadvantages to his ‘privileged’ status. His guardian’s reputation makes a serious relationship impossible—turns out the club’s members are addicted to breathing—and the one man Reed truly wants sees him only as a stray his former lover brought home.
* * *
An endless string of one-night stands lacks the intimacy Reed craves, but at least edgy post-fight hookups distract him from what he’ll never have. Until he takes a wrecking ball to the walls that set him apart.
* * *
Curtis Smith is a lot of things—MMA fighter, club owner...son of a drug lord—but one thing he’s not is prepared to face temptation exploding past his carefully built boundaries. Reed is forbidden, to him most of all, but resisting what they both want becomes impossible with the sub challenging him at every turn. And with his past threatening everything The Asylum has been built to protect, Curtis can’t afford to be addicted to Reed’s brand of candy coated sin.
* * *
He can’t deny himself one taste before his stolen time runs out. Because when it does, all that will be left behind for Reed is a memory…
* * *
And his heart.
Chapter One
* * *
Chaos was the perfect distraction from what should’ve been a wicked night, but was turning out to be frustrating as hell. Reed Dane rushed from one end of the bar to the other, serving up drinks while trying to ignore the fact that his dick was being needy as fuck. The hot scenes playing out around him didn’t help. The Asylum’s annual all-member challenge was always wild and this was only the second one he’d been allowed to attend.
The first one had been a lot more fun.
Wiping some scattered wet rings off the bar, Reed licked his bottom lip as he caught sight of a submissive fighter with a thick black collar locked around his neck drop to his knees in front of his long-time Dom. The older and balding, but still massively built Dom was having a casual conversation with the fighter next to him as his sub took him in his mouth. The way he stroked his sub’s short brown hair held a tenderness Reed craved.
He glanced over at the old-fashioned black and gold clock on the wall over the tables along the wall. Almost ten o’clock, when Doc would be taking over for two hours so Reed could get in on the entertainment. Or be part of the entertainment. At this point, if one more man avoided even meeting his eyes, Reed was gonna climb up on the bar and give them a show they couldn’t ignore.
Not that he could top the show the co-owner, Lawson ‘The Law’ Gaumond and his sub, Matt, had given on the pool table, but he didn’t mind taking second billing. Getting a chance to help torture his buddy had been a nice break from being persona non grata. Matt was a lucky bastard and he and Law were damn hot together. Watching Law pin his man down and take him hard, right there in front of everyone, had given Reed a perma-erection even a cold shower wasn’t gonna fix.
He needed that. A Dom who would own him that completely. Didn’t have to be forever, like Law and Matt were obviously gonna be, but more than a brief round in the Dungeon would be nice. Though he’d go for that at this point.
On nights like this he usually had his pick of challenges. The bar had been open since five and he still didn’t have one. Not. Even. One.
What the fuck is going on?
“Reed!” From the end of the bar, Dallas Stephens waved to catch his attention. Tall, with an impressive build earned through a lifetime training as a wrestler, Dallas was quickly moving up the ranks in The Asylum as one of the most skilled fighters. He was also gorgeous. Light brown skin which contrasted nicely with the sleeveless white shirt he wore, leathers molded perfectly to his thick thighs, the switch leaned toward heavier play than Reed was used to, but he was game for pretty much anything tonight.
As Reed slinked over, his most seductive smile on his lips, Dallas chuckled and shook his head. “Oh hell no, boy. Don’t give me that look. Not happening, I just want a drink.”
Reed stuck out his bottom lip, not giving a damn if it made him look like a sulky kid. The way things were going, he might as well be locked off in the upstairs lofts, playing video games with the teens. What the hell did a guy have to do to get some action around here?
“Stop pouting. You’ve been a fucking brat lately. It’s no wonder Curtis—”
Midway through pouring Dallas’s regular whiskey sour, Reed froze. Dallas had cut himself off, but there was no doubt what he’d been about to say.
Still, Reed turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “Curtis, what?”
Brow furrowed, Dallas leaned over the bar, keeping his voice low enough that Reed had to practically climb on the bar to hear him. “Don’t get yourself in more trouble, kid. He’s looking out for you. Probably best you don’t take any challenges tonight.”
Handing Dallas his drink, Reed nodded slowly. Perched on the counter behind the bar, he considered his options. If Curtis had put out the word that Reed wasn’t to be challenged, not a single one of the regular members would defy him.
Only one problem with Curtis’s plan.
Lawson had told Reed he had to get in that ring tonight. And Reed didn’t disobey orders—not the ones that suited him anyway.
A glance and he spotted his target. The regulars might fall in line, but there were plenty of new guys around. He smirked at Dallas, then reached across the bar, pushing a glass off the surface.
Straight into the lap of the closest man he didn’t recognize.
Shooting off his stool with a curse, the man swept his hands over his leathers and shot Reed a cold, assessing look. His gaze heated as Reed stared back at him and he shoved closer to the bar, leaning over it to latch on to the collar of Reed’s shirt.
The way his lips slit into a slow, dangerous smile sent a chill up Reed’s spine. Black hair, shaved in an intricate pattern along the sides of his head, fell over one eye, the other almost black in the shadow of the large hood he had up. The sleeves were ripped off the man’s black hoodie, revealing skin a pale golde
n-brown shade, and massive shoulders, almost twice the size of Reed’s.
This might not have been one of my brightest ideas ever. Reed chewed on his bottom lip, glancing over at Dallas who stepped back and threw his hands up in exasperation. He wasn’t gonna be any help.
“You wanted my attention?” The man’s voice had a deep, gritty quality that put Reed’s every instinct on high alert. His shiver made the man’s smile widen. “Yes, I think you’ll do nicely. What’s your name?”
Squaring his shoulders, Reed hopped off the counter, freeing himself from the man’s grip. “Reed.”
“I’d say it’s a pleasure, but that remains to be seen.” The man exchanged a look with Dallas, gave him a nod of mutual regard, then brought his attention back to Reed. “Do you require permission before you accept my challenge?”
Permission? That drew a bitter laugh from Reed’s lips. Screw it, he’d just fight the man, win, and show Curtis he didn’t need his damn protection. Maybe he’d let the guy fuck him anyway, just for the hell of it. From what he could see of the man, he wasn’t bad looking.
Just...scary.
“I don’t answer to anyone.” Reed spoke over Dallas’s startled protest. “There’s an opening at ten thirty. See you in the ring.”
The man inclined his head and worked his way through the crowd without another word. Reed turned to go back to filling drink orders. A firm shove had his back against the bar as Doc, The Asylum’s on-site medic and resident sadist, loomed over him.
If the other man had been scary, Doc, his eyes burning with rage, was downright terrifying. “You’re a damn fool, boy. Do you have any idea who that was?”
Clamping his lips shut, Reed shook his head.
Doc let out a rough, irritated sound. “Kovit came here to visit me. We were trained by the same Dom. If you wanted a beating that bad, you could’ve just asked.”
Yeah, Reed did not play with Doc. He enjoyed leaving the Dungeon in one piece—his ego included. Clearing his throat, he lifted his shoulders. “Good thing I don’t plan to lose.”
Shaking his head, Doc took a step back and folded his arms, lightly tanned and covered in intricate tattoos, over his chest. “He’s a Muay Thai fighter. Your best shot is to concede the fight before you set foot in that ring.”
Now that was just insulting. Reed rolled his shoulders, looking to the clock again. He had about half an hour to get ready and come up with some kind of strategy. Which didn’t include standing here and being told he wasn’t up to the challenge.
Sure, the guy might have impressive skills, but Reed had a few tricks up his sleeves and he’d rarely lost fights he hadn’t planned on losing in the first place. Besides, being dragged upstairs wasn’t exactly a hardship. He loved being restrained, loved the edge of knowing, unless he used his safeword, the Dom-of-the-night could have their way with him. He surrendered all control the second he walked through those doors.
Doing the same with Kovit, though… He wasn’t a complete idiot. If Doc was warning him about the dude, Reed had to keep enough of the control to call the shots before he got naked. He wouldn’t punk out on whatever he agreed to and tonight, by accepting a challenge, that meant no-holds-barred.
“I’m gonna fight, Doc, but thanks for the head’s up.” Feeling daring, he batted his eyelashes, grinning when the man’s expression darkened. “You gonna have fun patching me up when this is over?”
That Doc didn’t laugh, or even cuff him upside the head like he normally would, was concerning. Doc let his hands fall to his sides and shook his head with a sigh. “No, Reed. I don’t think I will.”
“Hey, I’m a big boy. I’ll be all right.”
“You won’t be, but maybe that’s what you need.” Doc’s jaw hardened. “Some real fucking consequences. Though there were saner ways they could’ve been executed.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Warms my heart.” Reed kept the grin planted on his face as he slipped out from behind the bar and headed upstairs, using his key to unlock the door to the upper levels, then locking it behind him. The noise from the bar cut off and he rubbed a hand over his face, leaning against the wall.
I’ve got this. I’ve totally got this. He nodded to himself, then used his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. The thing was already soaked through. He had to get changed. Wearing skin-tight leathers and a shirt that read ‘I’m yours’ in the ring would make him look weak and ridiculous. If winning wasn’t so important, he’d have kept the outfit on to tease his opponent, but teasing Kovit? The way the man had looked at him?
Nope.
He walked into his loft, nodding at the two teens who were deep in some war game on his PS4. His foster brother, Ezran—who’d shaved more of the black hair off the side of his head to fix the mess he’d made, showing his rebellious side by...looking like he’d pissed off his barber?—and Garet, Matt’s little brother. Both sixteen and kept well away from the club when the bar was open, though sometimes they were allowed to watch the fights when things weren’t too crazy.
Tonight would not be one of those nights.
“Dude, you all right?” Garet gaze him a curious look, then nudged Ezran. “Who d’ya think he pissed off? Lawson or Curtis?”
Ezran’s lip slanted as he studied Reed. “With how pale he is? I’d say both.”
“Shut up, rugrats.” Reed grabbed two cushions off the sofa and tossed them at the boys. “Isn’t it your bedtime?”
Unconcerned, both boys went back to their game. The punks probably knew he didn’t have time for a lecture. He should tell them off anyway, but hey, if they got in shit, it would take some of the focus off him.
So long as they did it where they were safe.
Sobered by the thought, he went to his bedroom, pulling out all his shorts, then all his shirts, trying to look for something that would make him look like a serious fighter. Why the hell did half his clothes sparkle? His hands shook as he reached for one pair of black shorts that looked promising.
The green alien and the words ‘Ready to be probed’ on the butt made him keep searching.
Nothing. He had nothing.
“Ezran, I’m borrowing some shorts!” He jetted to his brother’s room, practically jerking the drawer right off its slider in his hurry.
The front door opened. Closed. When Reed was just about to give up, a pair of plain black gym shorts were held out in front of him.
Garet’s smile held sympathy. “Ezran’s stuff won’t fit you, but these should be okay.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Reed huffed out a breath, laughing when Garet handed him a black t-shirt as well. “You’re the best.”
“And you’re freaking out and it’s fucking weird, man. What gives?” Garet sat cross legged on the floor beside him. “You aren’t facing both Curtis and Lawson in the ring are you? Did you put sugar in their gas tanks or something?”
Reed chuckled and shook his head. “Naw, just facing someone new who knows a fighting style I’ve never even heard of. Muay Thai?”
“Oh...shit.” Garet pulled out his phone. Searched on YouTube and started playing a clip of an MMA fighter being taken down in seconds. He chewed on his bottom lip as Reed took his phone to check out a few more fights. “You can pretend you got food poisoning. Go eat something gross and get it for real?”
Ruffling the boy’s hair, Reed pushed to his feet and shook his head. “Hell no, but I’ll keep that in mind if you ever try to punk out of a fight.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“And neither will I.” Reed held up Garet’s phone. “Mind if I borrow this while I get changed? Might give me some idea of what I’m up against.”
Garet nodded, still chewing on his lip as he stood, but he went back to the living room without another word.
In the bathroom, Reed quickly got dressed, letting a playlist of various matches run, his stomach sinking at yet another example of Muay Thai being used to take down fighters of every discipline he’d ever heard of or trained in. His usual techniques woul
d be ineffective against this kind of fighting style unless he could get the man in a solid hold. And avoid any strikes landing because he’d be done for.
Wiping his sweaty palms on his borrowed shorts, he looked himself in the mirror to give himself a much needed pep talk.
His wide-eyed, deer-facing-down-a-semi look forced him to face reality.
“I am so fucked.”
* * *
Coming to all major retailers December 24, 2019
Flawed Justice Page 32
