TITLE: Beyond Justice
SERIES: The Asylum Fight Club
GENRE: LGBTQ Romance, Sports Romance
DATE: December 24, 2019
AUTHORS: Tibby Armstrong and Bianca Sommerland
WEB SITE: www.asylumfightclub.com
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.
BUY LINK:
Hovering on the knifepoint of his indecision, Curtis groaned when Reed’s tongue poked impishly at his lips. He breathed deep and found the will to straighten. If he’d been listening to everything Reed had been saying—which he had—then he needed to consider a bunch of things very carefully before he got involved here, because once he did, he wouldn’t turn back.
Noah and Lawson be damned.
“I need to shower.” He eyed Reed, checking his mood to make sure he hadn’t traumatized him even further, and decided given the storm clouds brewing in his eyes to go for broke. “And…to think.”
A flash of disappointment, then Reed’s guard was back up. He slipped away from Curtis, gathering his hair in one hand and tying it with the black hairband that was almost always around his wrist.
“You can use mine if you want. Or…whatever.” Reed shot Curtis a brief smile, as though to let him know he wasn’t upset. “Thanks for breakfast. It was really good.”
Okay, so they were going for…normal? Or, maybe just not taking potshots at each other, which was an improvement.
“I haven’t made pancakes in a while. It’s nice to have someone who actually chews their food eat what I cook.” He cast his gaze over the dirty frying pan and dishes and threw Reed a grin. “If you’ll let me play ‘Daddy’ a while longer, then I think you need to go lie down and I’ll get something to rub into your skin that should take away most of the pain.”
“Mmhmm, I’d like that.” Reed’s cheeks were bright red, but there was a hint of daring in his eyes as he walked his fingers up the center of Curtis’s chest. “How much trouble would I get in if I called you ‘Daddy’ anywhere but here?”
My leathers are too goddamn tight.
Curtis worked his jaw from side to side, fingers curling. Not knowing what made him do it—it seriously couldn’t be his brain, which had gone offline and wasn’t responding to his emergency call for help—he leaned in, nipped Reed’s bottom lip between his teeth, and lightly slapped his ass before heading toward the man’s bathroom.
“And don’t you dare touch those dishes boy.” He called the order over his shoulder, grinning at Reed’s inhale, and closed the bathroom door between them.
Turning the shower on COLD, he stripped out of his leathers and stepped under the spray, hissing when the water hit his too-hard dick. No way was he jacking off in Reed’s shower with him in the next room. He made quick work of the shampoo and soap, finally able to think about everything Reed had said.
If Noah had known what Reed wanted—or fuck, needed—he wouldn’t have denied him the safety of submission with someone he trusted. Might be tough on the man, but easier than watching Reed submit night after night, thinking he didn’t deserve to have his physical and emotional needs taken care of.
A warning at the back of his brain told him this was a dangerous road to travel, but the path all seemed to be downhill, and he kept on rolling like a car with its brake lines cut.
Noah was in prison and had forbidden anyone but Lawson and now Ezran to visit. A two-minute phone conversation with the man wasn’t going to cut it, and even if he did manage to get on Noah’s guest list, it didn’t seem to be a good idea to ruin his chances for early release by baiting him into a fight.
Or into killing him…
Not like he was familiar with what that felt like or anything.
Shutting off the water, he yanked the nearest towel off a peg and pressed it to his face, willing unpleasant memories back into the box they attempted to claw their way out of. He made quick work of drying off and grabbed his jeans from the floor. Now that he wasn’t covered in the stink of last night’s bender, the ripe stench coming off the leather made him recoil. Tossing the pants over his shoulder, he looped the bath towel around his hips.
Mind still on the problem of Reed and Noah, he stepped out of the bathroom and crossed the loft, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” and walked into the hallway.
Straight into Lawson.
Lawson took a step back, his gaze hardening as he gave Curtis a quick once over. “Jesus Christ, Curtis. Please tell me you didn’t…” His jaw clenched. “That boy was in no condition for…” He inhaled slowly. “I liked not having to kill you. Fuck.”
Not-so-righteous indignation snapped Curtis’s spine straight.
“I didn’t want to leave him alone last night when I saw what kind of care you and Kovit had taken with him. And in case you wondered, my version involved a lot of pain reliever and time letting him dampen my shoulder with his tears.” He licked his lips, wishing he weren’t half-naked, not like that had stopped him from slugging Lawson in the past. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get dressed before you judge and hang me.”
“I…” The anger seeped out of Lawson’s expression as the color left his face. “He’s been doing his own thing in the dungeon for over a year. He’s made it perfectly clear what he wants. What the hell was I supposed to do?”
Good question, and not one Lawson would like the answer to, given his reaction to seeing Curtis step out of Reed’s loft wearing nothing but a swath of Egyptian cotton around his hips.
“He wants…” He cast his gaze down the hall toward Lawson’s door. “Damned if I can be sure, but I think he wants what you have with Matt, except…with a twist. Only he thinks he can’t have it, and nobody’s going to put up with him long enough to give it to him.” Shaking his head, he brought his attention back to Lawson’s face. “I just know it’s going to make me lose my shit if one more man besides me tries.”
There. I said it.
To himself, and to Lawson.
Nodding slowly, Lawson rubbed his hand over his lips. “I told you to stay away from him if you weren’t serious. Those other fuckers he plays with can’t hurt him like you can. You know that.”
Surprise widened Curtis’s gaze. Fisting the towel, he looked toward the stairs. Remembered stumbling up them drunker than he had a right to be when going to check on his…on Reed. Lawson had known it too, so what had made the man send him up here in the first place?
“You knew he had a thing for me?” He had to make sure his brain wasn’t messing with him.
The question had Lawson’s lips slanting with amusement. “Any more obvious and he’d have written ‘Notice me, Curtis’ on his forehead. But fuck if I thought it would be good for either of you.” He sighed. “He could do worse though. Much much worse.”
“But, Noah…” Curtis let the question hang there.
“Noah wants both his boys to be safe and happy. You make Reed happy and he won’t object.” Lawson’s brow furrowed. “He’ll never forgive you if you break him. So don’t.”
That was the crux of the issue though, wasn’t it? There were things Curtis could do—had done—that could push Reed over that very thin ledge he appeared to perch on. Curtis knew all about that ledge. He’d been living on it for years.
“I’m not happy Noah told you what he did, but…it makes it easier. I can’t pretend there’s not a very real reason for me to get on my bike and ride out of here every single day, and—” He jerked his head toward Reed’s door. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect that man from everyone. Including me.”
“Then find some kind of balance. I don’t know what to tell you.” Lawson took a deep breath. “If you need to leave him, don’t leave him alone. And I don’t mean me, or Matt, or… Curtis, I made sure when I wasn’t around Matt had someone who could take care of him. You get that?”
Remembering the boundaries Lawson had laid out for him and his interactions with Matt, realization dawned.
“That wasn’t just some sexy mind game you were playing with Matt.” It was a statement. He lifted his startled gaze to Lawson. “Jesus, Lawson. I can’t feed Reed to Kovit.”
Lawson arched a brow. “Then who? You might not like how far things went in that scene, but the man didn’t miss a fucking thing. He let Reed go because he could tell pushing for aftercare would do more harm than good. He’s still a stranger to Reed.” He took a deep breath. “He told me either I should go to him or send someone Reed would feel safe with while he was that vulnerable.”
More than one thought freight-trained down Curtis’s mental tracks, headed for a collision. He yanked the brakes on one and slowed down the other to let the most important one roll through the station. “You think Kovit could make him happy?”
“He’s not you.” Lawson gave Curtis a level look. “Just like you’re not me. Would you have made Matt happy if I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—be there for him?”
There was a lot Curtis didn’t know the answers to wrapped up in that question, but he knew one thing for certain. “I would have tried.”
Lawson inclined his head. “Sometimes, that’s enough.”
Both he and Lawson knew that in their world, in this lifestyle, there were very few absolutes. The ones that mattered, well, they tended to matter a lot. The ones that didn’t kept things interesting for all parties. Exclusivity was a rare thing, and happy exclusivity even rarer. No one man could be all things to another.
“He was really blissed out, huh?” Somehow he couldn’t wrap his head around Sparkles in the hands of a man like Kovit.
“Very.” Lawson ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Was a bit of a mindfuck for me too. I’ve got my hands full with Matt, but if you hadn’t gone to Reed last night… I would have.”
“That’s comforting to know.” He studied his bare feet and looked back up, one hand pulling at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”
“If you don’t go get dressed, I’ll make you apologize the same way you do Matt.” Lawson chuckled. “Be careful, all right? With him. And with you.”
Lawson’s statement fucking with his head, Curtis blinked. There was a time when that offer would have made him at least consider dropping to his knees. If he didn’t have Reed in the next room, all supple and nearly naked, he might have even now.
He snorted, shooting Lawson a grin on his way to his door. “Next time he wears that ‘Spank Me’ outfit, I’m going to take extra special care with his ass.”
Soft, muttered words followed him as he stepped through the doorway. “It’s about time someone does.”
And that was no lie.
Bianca Sommerland, author of the award winning Dartmouth Cobras series, was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. After hitting the USA TODAY Bestsellers list, and being invited to teach several classes on writing in the sports and BDSM genre, she retreated to her writing cave and can still be found there, doing what she’s always done. Which is writing whatever the characters tell her to.
When not reading neurotically or writing as though the fate of the world rests on her keyboard, she is either watching hockey or teaching her daughters the beauty of a classic, steel pony while reminiscing about her days in Auto Body Mechanics. Her dream is to one day own enough land to park a few junkers on so she can work on restorations in her spare time. She also wants a pony. And while we’re sharing her wishlist, owning a tank is somewhere around number 5. Not that she would use it unless there’s a zombie apocalypse, but she does like to be prepared.
Her time is balanced with utmost care between ‘normal’ family life, and being lured into the fictional realm where her characters reside. For the most part, she succeeds.
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 reader-writer chats, connect with Tibby on social media, via her newsletter, and at TibbyArmstrong.com.