Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Akira worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Jami had straightened her dark brown hair for her, and it looked nice and sleek. She wasn’t really feeling the dress, though. “Is it weird that I want it to matter?”

  “Not at all.” Sahara sat on the edge of her dresser, using her thumb to push up the red horn-rimmed glasses that completed her slutty secretary outfit. She cocked her head and held her tongue between her teeth thoughtfully. Then she hopped down and laughed. “I got it! OMG, why didn’t I think of this before?”

  “I hate it when you talk like a text.” Jami followed Sahara to the closet. Her tone changed from grumpy to excited again as Sahara showed her whatever she’d pulled out. “That’s perfect! Damn, I so have to be there when he sees her in this!”

  “What?” Akira spun around, her eyes widening as Sahara held up a studded leather bra and skirt. And a leather biker hat with a thick silver chain running across the base of the rim. She arched a brow at Jami. “I thought you were worried that he’d treat me like one of those biker chicks.”

  “He hasn’t so far, and I don’t think this will make him start.” Jami giggled, dashing across the room as Sahara handed Akira the outfit. “But if you want a reaction, this will definitely get one. Now hurry up!”

  Alone in Sahara’s room, Akira fidgeted with the studs on the leather bra, wondering if she had the guts to pull this off. It wasn’t that much more revealing than some of her uniforms, but . . . was this how she wanted Cort to see her?

  She recalled how she’d been a little bold with him. A bit naughty at times. He might not like her swearing, but he seemed to like that side of her. The side that wasn’t afraid to live in the moment.

  He might not be a biker anymore, but she could still see him pulling up on a Harley, waiting for her to climb on behind him so they could go for a ride. She’d never been on a motorcycle, but she could picture hanging on to him as the wind whipped through her hair, practically smell the leather of his jacket, warm from his body, soft against her cheek.

  Taking a deep breath, she stripped off the white dress and changed quickly. She could hear Sebastian’s deep voice and Luke’s laughter in the other room. She found a pair of six-inch heel thigh-high leather boots to complete the outfit, a tad big since Sahara wore a size bigger than her, but not too bad. They’d keep her legs from freezing anyway.

  That’s it. I’m ready.

  A rough, familiar chuckle had her freezing with her hand on the doorknob.

  Cort was here.

  Oh God! I’m not ready! What if he hates it?

  Too late to change again now. With one last glance at herself in the mirror to adjust the hat, she stepped out into the hall. The men all turned to look at her. Luke’s lips parted. Sebastian smiled.

  And Cort choked on the sip of water he’d just taken. His eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth several times. Tried to speak and coughed.

  Sebastian slapped Cort’s back, his lips slanted in amusement. “A Dom typically shows more composure, hombre. You’ll have your sub thinking she can wrap you around her little finger with a reaction like that.”

  “Done deal, man.” Cort came toward her, his eyes drinking in every inch of her in a way that made her feel like she was bathing naked under the blazing sun. His hands on her waist, pulling her to him, had her forgetting that there was anyone else in the hall. He was already hard beneath his black jeans, and his tone was thick with lust. “Damn, Tiny. I’m glad we ain’t going to a biker club. I’d be fighting all night to keep those fu—those dirty bastards away from you.”

  “No one will touch me without your permission tonight, Sir.” Akira flattened her hands against his chest in the part of his leather jacket, loving the way his heart raced under her palm. Knowing she had the same effect on him as he had on her was a heady feeling. “You won’t have to fight at all.”

  “Good. I don’t want you to see what a caveman I can be.” He accepted her jacket from Sahara with a “thanks” and held it for her while she slipped it on. When she did up the last button of the long black wool coat, one of those sexy, wicked grins stole across his lips. “You know what, I lied.”

  “About what—Cort!” She squealed, then laughed as he threw her over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

  “No can do, Tiny.” Cort carried her to his car, smacking her butt when she tried to wiggle free. The others followed, Sahara getting into Sebastian’s car with Luke and Jami, all acting like they were completely oblivious to her struggles. Cort placed her into the passenger seat, curving his hand around her throat and giving her a bruising kiss as he whispered, “Rough or gentle. That’s the only choice you get tonight.”

  Scary options if she thought about it, but it took less than a second to realize she didn’t have to. She met his eyes and said softly, “However you want to take me, Sir. I’m yours.”

  * * * *

  The club was louder than the last time Cort had been here, the bass of the music booming through his bones, the heat of all the bodies around him almost stifling. As he took Akira’s jacket at the coat check, he saw the other men checking her out, both Doms in their leathers and subs in . . . well, some of them wore leathers too. The only way he could really tell them apart was the Doms met his gaze head-on and the subs dropped theirs the second he glanced their way. One familiar Domme—Chicklet—came over and smiled at Akira before turning to him.

  “May I? It’s been a while.”

  “May you?” Shit, was the woman asking to play with his girl? They’d just fucking walked in! “Listen, lady, I—”

  Stepping up behind him, Sebastian put a hand on his shoulder. “She wants to greet your sub, Cort. Asking is a show of respect.”

  “Ah, yeah.” Cort rubbed his jaw, feeling pretty fucking stupid. From what he’d heard about Chicklet, she was kinda a big deal here. Being an asshole to her straight off wasn’t the smartest move. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  Chicklet’s lips thinned as she hesitated in front of him. She moved toward Akira, then stopped. “You were expecting swapping or something? If that’s what you thought happened here, why did you come?”

  “I know it does happen. And that not everyone does it. I’m not quite as clueless as I came off.” He chanced an apologetic smile. “I’m here because I want to learn more about what Akira likes.”

  “Fair enough. You’re forgiven.” Chicklet leaned close to him, her breath cold and minty, her red lips slanted playfully. “If your girl was into women, I’d have played with her already. Might have kept her because she’s such a cute little thing. But she’s not.” She glanced pointedly across the club, to where Dominik was widening the rope barrier around a large wooden frame. “A little tip since I’m a nice gal. He’s the only one she’s ever played with here. Things will go a lot smoother for you if you give him the courtesy of speaking to him before you drag her into a full scene.”

  “I planned to.”

  “Good. I like you more already.” She lowered her voice, eyeing Akira who was chatting excitedly with Jami and Sahara. “There’s only one other person you have to worry about with her, but I expect you know that already.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about.” Cort looked over at the bar where Ford was handing out drinks and marking the bracelets of those he served. Ford inclined his head when he spotted Cort, but nothing in his expression showed resentfulness or anything else. “We’ve all worked things out.”

  “Right. Well, good luck with that.” Chicklet joined the girls, hugging all three. A pretty brunette trailed after her, looking familiar somehow.

  Not a biker. Not one of the Ice Girls. But he’d met her somewhere . . .

  “Cort, come to the bar for a sec, man!” Ford called out, urgency in his tone. “Just wanted to run something by you!”

  Cort glanced back at Akira, decided she was safe enough with her friends, and strode up to the bar. “Yeah?”

  Ford dried his hands on a rag and came around to the open end of the bar. “Laura—Chicklet’s sub—is a cop. Yo
u might wanna steer clear. There’s enough people here that she might not notice you if you mingle.”

  The warning came as a surprise. Shouldn’t Ford be sitting back and hoping the cop would recognize him and haul him in?

  Fuck no. Ford’s better than that. And damn, he hated that this whole thing with Akira gave him any doubt. He squeezed Ford’s forearm. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “No prob. Oh, and the goalie, Hunt—he’s really not bad, but he and Akira had a nasty run-in. She’s not really comfortable with him.”

  Fucking dead man. Screw stupid head games to throw the kid off his game. The next loss would be just as certain with the goalie in intensive care. “What the fuck did he do to her?”

  “Relax, killer.” Ford’s laugh cut short as though he’d suddenly caught that the old nickname wasn’t so funny anymore. “Listen, I beat the shit out of him once, and it just made Akira hate me more. He knows better than to touch her here, but I just thought you’d want to know about any triggers she has. She gets into a zone when she’s with Dominik . . . he’s really good at not letting anything yank her out. You’ll have to learn to do that for her. Keep it to light scenes in the main area. Anything more in the private rooms. Don’t bring her in the office and—”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” All right, he knew Ford wanted to be her friend, but he didn’t think the man was going for sainthood. “If I screw up, you might get a shot to—”

  “If you screw up, she might not feel safe here anymore. If you screw up, you’ll take away the one thing that helps her feel okay with being close to men.” Ford dropped his hand, his eyes a hard, cold shade of gold as he fixed them on Cort. “So don’t.”

  Well, damn. Cort nodded and watched Ford return to his duties behind the bar. He sensed Akira slipping up to his side and put his arm over her shoulders. Whatever his motivations, Ford was right. This place, these people, had given Akira so much. Because of them she was strong and sassy and passionate. She might not be with him if it wasn’t for all that.

  Which brought to mind Chicklet’s suggestion. Cort kissed the top of Akira’s head and guided her across the room. “There’s something I have to do, Tiny.”

  “What’s that?” Akira’s cheeks got nice and pink, her mind obviously in a very different place than his was. “Did you see something—”

  “Someone.” He took a deep breath as they drew closer to where Dominik was laying out an array of whips on a short folding table. “Someone I need to thank.”

  * * * *

  Oh, Dominik doesn’t look too pleased. Akira chewed on her bottom lip as Cort held out his hand and Dominik just stared at it. The man she’d called “Sir” for months shot her a look that she wasn’t sure held disapproval or concern. Maybe a bit of both.

  “You were supposed to come to the club two weeks ago, little one.” Dominik squared his shoulders and took Cort’s hand. “We’ve met.”

  “We have, but I didn’t know I had you to thank for this.” Cort’s lips curved slightly as he glanced over at her, his eyes holding something so intense her heart began to beat like a frightened little bunny’s. “I’m falling in love with this girl. Figured it would be decent of me to let you know she’s in good hands.”

  Her little bunny heart skipped and stuttered as she stared at Cort. And then burst open because it didn’t have to be a cautious, tough little organ any more. It could do what it was meant to and feel without restraints. This man wouldn’t just catch her if she fell. Wouldn’t just hold her tight and keep her safe.

  He’d take the plunge right along with her.

  Dominik shook his head and put out his hand, palm up. He smiled when she placed hers in it. “If I didn’t believe him, I’d find a way to take you away from him. You know how much I care about you, how hard I worked to help you accept how strong you really are.” He stroked her knuckles with his thumb. His lips curved at one edge. “He’s not the kind of man I’d have chosen for you, but I wanted you to be strong enough to make that choice on your own. And I can’t think badly of anyone who can make you look this happy.”

  “Thank you!” Akira threw herself into Dominik’s arms. She couldn’t deny that if he hadn’t accepted Cort, moving on would have been that much harder. Oh God, what does Cort think about me hanging all over another man?

  She tried to duck away from Dominik, but he held her in place, speaking to Cort almost as though she wasn’t there. “You didn’t come to me just for my approval.”

  “No.” Cort put his hand on the small of her back, and her pulse quickened again as the sensation of being trapped between them seized her. “I can’t give her what she had from you. Not yet. But I’m willing to learn.”

  “Commendable. But how involved do you want me to be?” Dominik pressed his hand to her cheek, tilting her head up and giving her one of his dark smiles. “This sub has never been shared. Is that your intention?”

  Shared? Akira swallowed hard as Cort’s hand slid down over her butt. She figured he’d be possessive. She knew he wanted to learn, but that meant workshops or watching scenes, didn’t it? The possibility of his accepting other methods was a little frightening. And thrilling. And . . . and, oh God, he wanted to learn from Dominik?

  “You know how to handle her. She can be a bit of a brat.” Cort chuckled as he nuzzled her neck, his body against her pressing her even closer to Dominik’s hard chest. “My first attempt at punishment didn’t work out all that well.”

  Dominik clucked his tongue, grazing his scruffy cheek against hers as he spoke in her ear. “Earning punishments already? Naughty girl.”

  “You work with other subs; I take it you can keep this as strictly a lesson?” Cort squeezed her ass, which caused her bare stomach to rub against Dominik’s leathers. And the thick swell beneath them.

  “Absolutely.” Dominik teased her lips with his and smiled. There was tenderness in his eyes. “One last time, little one. I’ll show him what you need.”

  One last time. She blinked fast, wondering if it hurt him to let her go. This wasn’t the first time he’d been forced to do that. And the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. She owed him so much.

  “None of that.” Dominik wiped away the single tear that spilled free. “We both knew what we were getting into from the start. I was afraid you’d gotten too attached, but you told me you were fine with the other subs I was training. I’d hoped you would find someone to give you what I can’t give anyone, and you have.”

  “You can, Sir! You have so much to offer—” Akira’s throat locked as Dominik looked past her, his jaw ticking slightly. She had to rise up on her tiptoes to see past Cort’s shoulder. Oriana and Max.

  Neither had come to the club since they’d returned to Dartmouth. For all her fears of hurting Dominik, Akira knew she couldn’t bring him the pain Oriana had. And she couldn’t help but hate the woman a little for that.

  To top it off, Oriana was standing by the bar, hugging Ford and looking at Akira like she was . . . trespassing? She had no goddamn right to any opinion on what Dominik did. And with whom.

  If Cort hadn’t been holding her so close to Dominik, she might have hesitated, but he’d made his intentions pretty clear. Which gave her the opening for a great big “fuck you” that she didn’t dare voice.

  Hooking her fingers to Dominik’s belt, she nipped his jaw and gave him an impish smile. “Do you really think you can teach my Dom how to ‘handle me,’ Sir?”

  The pain left Dominik’s eyes. He blinked, then barked out a laugh. “Someone has to. Bring your pet, Cort. And please, let me know how the punishment failed. And what she did to deserve it. I usually recommend immediate discipline, but we can make an exception.”

  “Wait! What?” Akira’s breath whooshed out as Cort flung her over his shoulder for the second time that night. “I’ll be good, I swear!”

  “Swearing is what got you in trouble, Tiny.” Cort’s whole body vibrated with laughter as he carried her to one of the theme rooms. “Might want to avoid it no
w.”

  The classroom! Akira swallowed spastically as Cort put her down in one of the student’s desks. She sat up straight as Dominik snapped a long, flexible ruler against the large desk at the head of the class.

  “Lock the door please, Cort.” Dominik pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Cort.

  Cort went to close the door. Locked it and handed the key back to Dominik.

  No one was allowed to lock the doors unless one of the club’s Masters was present. If a DM walked by and looked in the small window that was nothing but a mirror from this side, they would see Dominik and keep going.

  She was trapped. And a little nervous. Her most intense scenes with Dominik had all been during role-play. Doing this with Cort and Dominik was . . . almost overwhelming.

  But she wasn’t afraid. She trusted them both.

  “Swearing and dressing provocatively. This behavior is unacceptable, Miss Hayashi.” Dominik sauntered up to her desk and slapped his hands down on it, making her jump. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Maybe I should be afraid. She shook her head quickly.

  “No? Perhaps a color?” Dominik studied her face, clearly waiting for her to absorb his words.

  It took her a full minute to understand them. A color. Like red. Which she could use at any time.

  But she didn’t need to. Actually, what she needed to do was show these men she wasn’t a little mouse. Not anymore.

  Leaning back into her seat, she put her boots up on the desk and smirked. “I have nothing to say, Sir. Do your worst.”

  Cort moved to Dominik’s side, arms folded over his chest. “You sure about that, Tiny?”

  His tone made her both want to back off and press on. Her whole body shook as she sucked her teeth, deciding to just go for it. “I’m sorry, Sir. Is your hearing aid on low? I know old men have difficultly—”

  Shoving her boots off the desk, Cort fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her to her feet. “You asked for it.”

  * * * *

  Cort’s Tiny was, well, tiny, but her wiggling made her quite the handful. He was pretty damn sure she didn’t really want him to let her go, but he didn’t like the idea of using brute force to hang on to her. A little hair pulling was one thing, but when he had to latch on to her arms to keep her from taking a swing, all he could feel was how fragile she was.