“Pass me the water, Ford.” Pischlar took the water, then picked Sahara up. He had one hand pressed over her ear as he stopped by Ford’s side. “I’ll be in The Office if you want to check on her.”
“I will.” He gritted his teeth as Pischlar disappeared with Sahara down the hall past the main room. Then turned his attention back to Akira. “I earned a lot of you being pissed at me from the thing with Jami, but I don’t deserve this.”
“Stay away from my friends.” Akira jutted her chin up, hands on her hips, looking like a little, dark avenging angel in all that leather.
But despite how hot she was, her words made him laugh. “Don’t go there. Seriously.”
“You fucking bastard! You’re going to compare—”
“Stop.” Dominik held up his hand, though it took only a look to get Akira to snap her lips shut. And to replace the anger in her eyes with shame. He glanced at Cort who seemed stunned to silence, then shook his head and turned to Akira again. “You’ve embarrassed your Dom. He’s very new, so I can let him not taking you in hand slide, but you know better.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I just—”
“Silence.” Dominik gave her his back, focusing on Ford and Cort. “Cort, you’re her Dom. I know you’re uncomfortable with punishments, but I won’t let this behavior slide. Either you discipline her, or she has to leave until you can.”
Cort rubbed his jaw, his shoulders tense, as though just the thought of punishing her—or maybe of her getting kicked out of the club—bothered him. But then he nodded slowly and rolled his shoulders back as he dropped his hand to his side. “I think Ford should punish her.”
Ford only heard the agreement in Cort’s tone at first, but then the rest registered and he could only stare at the man. “What?”
“She interrupted the aftercare you were giving. She insulted you.” Cort’s gaze leveled with Ford’s. “She needs your forgiveness. Not mine.”
Fuck. Just . . . Fuck! In what messed up parallel universe would Akira ever need his forgiveness? Yeah, he wasn’t too happy about what Akira had pulled, but punish her? He glanced her way and his throat tightened at the pleading in her eyes. She’d been told not to speak, so she wouldn’t, but he could tell she wanted him to do it. To find some way to take away all her guilt with a few strikes of the cane or a belt or kneeling on unsharpened pencils he’d forced her to line up perfectly . . .
He could come up with a dozen ways to punish her. Could probably make her cry with a few harsh words at this point.
No.
If she submitted to him, even for this, he wasn’t sure he could simply walk away after and keep pretending he was happy for her and Cort. He’d punished other subs, held them after, and told them it was all better now. But he wasn’t in love with them.
I can’t do this.
“Ford—Sir?” Akira blinked fast and swallowed audibly. “Please. I’m sorry, please just—”
“No.” He took a step toward the bar, stopped, spun around because he needed to make sure Sahara was okay. He couldn’t look at Akira again. All he could do was put the responsibility back where it belonged. “I’ll be satisfied with whatever your Dom decides.”
“I’ve made my decision,” Cort said, his tone hard.
“Then you’ll have to live with it.” Ford moved out of hearing, hesitating at the end of the hall to see Cort leading Akira to coat check. Then out of the club.
* * * *
Two weeks had gone by since the scene at the club—namely the one that made it so Cort couldn’t return with Akira—and he was fucking fed up. Ford was handling stuff at the Delgado Forum again, fully involved now with his position as Performance Director and assistant to the community relations director, which meant that he was always at the Forum.
And Akira wasn’t dealing with that all too well.
Since Cort worked mostly at night at the bar and work was slow at the shop, he was able to meet with Akira for lunch whenever she had practice and pick her up after. She used the Forum gym daily, so her chances of running into Ford were high. And every time she did, it was bad.
This time was no different.
Standing in the hall, holding Akira’s skates while she searched her gym bag for her ringing cell phone, Cort spotted Ford coming out of the coach’s office. He quickly fished his own cell out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“It’s probably Jami—weren’t you supposed to meet her later to go shopping or something?” Cort really hoped Ford just got on the elevator and out of sight before Akira noticed him. He couldn’t take much more of them sniping at each other. “I’ll drop you off after we eat—”
Akira shook her head, finally pulling her phone out from under a few neatly rolled up towels. She stood, expression composed, and tugged her wool coat straight over her blue skinny jeans. “I see him, Cort. Don’t worry, I won’t say a thing. He’s not worth it.”
“Good to know.” Ford joined them, nodding to Cort before giving Akira a bland smile. “I do need you to say something, though. Your name isn’t on the list of girls signed up for the mentorship program with the girls’ club. I thought it would be something that would interest you.”
“It does.” Akira’s face went red. “I didn’t know there was a sheet.”
“I told you last week.”
“Yes, well, I usually block out your voice—you rarely have anything important to say.” Akira’s tone didn’t match her harsh words. Cort could tell she was finally getting that this grudge she had with Ford was going too far. She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth as she glanced up at Ford—who thankfully hadn’t commented on her little jibe. “I’ll go sign up now.”
“Thank you.” Ford moved to walk past her, pressing his eyes shut when she put her hand on his arm. “What is it, Akira?”
Akira jerked her hand away as though just realizing she’d touched him. “Is that all?”
“That’s all. I told you I wouldn’t bother you anymore.” Ford’s jaw tensed slightly. “I meant it.”
She didn’t budge until Ford was out of sight, but Cort could read the emotions crossing her face so clearly she might as well have screamed them. She was confused, hurt, and she wanted to fix things with Ford. But she didn’t know how.
Cort hated seeing her like this—hated feeling like there was nothing he could do. He’d let her make Ford a topic they couldn’t discuss for too long. That was about to change.
Taking her bag, then her hand, Cort led her out to the parking garage, speaking softly. “This can’t go on, Tiny. I need you to tell me how to help you. If it’s because of the club, I’ll speak to Dominik.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Akira hesitated by the passenger’s side door he opened for her. “But you won’t punish me?”
“No. I’m sorry, Akira, but I don’t think that would do you any good—even if I was willing to.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, with a little bit of sympathy slipping in that he couldn’t quite contain. He didn’t want his reactions leading what she chose to share.
It took half the drive to her place, but she eventually started spilling. “It should be Ford punishing me anyway. It’s pretty obvious why he won’t.”
“Is it?” Cort kept his eyes on the snow-slicked road, but his grip tightened on the wheel. Here we go.
“He doesn’t care about me anymore,” Akira said, her voice small. “I got what I wanted.”
Cort didn’t reply at first, because he wasn’t sure what the hell he could possibly say to that. Not just her words, but all that was behind them. A longing, an emptiness, the same kind he saw in Ford’s eyes every time Cort caught him watching her. The two people who meant more to him than anything in the world were tearing each other apart.
He pulled up in front of Akira’s apartment, reaching over before she blindly opened the door and pulling her close. He tipped her chin up with a finger and kissed her lips until some color returned to her pale cheeks. Then he smiled. “You didn’t get what you wanted, Tiny.” He put his finger ove
r her lips before she could interrupt. “But you will.”
* * * *
“I want a baby.”
Akira’s head shot up from where she lay on her stomach on the floor, flipping through a catalog of designs for uniforms Silver had asked her to look at. Sahara knocked her glass of wine over on the coffee table.
Jami didn’t seem to notice their reactions. “Can you picture it? A little boy with Sebastian’s eyes—or . . .” She laughed, a dreamy expression on her face. “Luke with a little girl. They’d both make amazing fathers, and . . . I think I’d be a good mom.” She took another sip from her wine glass. “I’d be there anyway. That’s something?”
Sahara gently took the wine away from Jami and slipped off the sofa. “All right, I think you’ve had enough.”
“That was my first one.” Jami frowned. “What? It’s not a bad idea. Luke’s mom hints about it every time I see her. It’s adorable, really. If I ask for seconds at supper, she gives Luke this little happy smile.”
Akira closed the catalog and pushed back onto her knees. “I know you love Luke’s mom, sweetie, but you can’t have a baby just to make her happy.”
“It’s not just about her. I love them. I want to make a family with them, and why not do it while I’m young?” Jami leaned her elbow on the arm of the sofa, resting her head on her hand. “I talked to my doctor and he got me to do a bunch of tests. I shouldn’t have the problems Silver had. I’m healthy and everything.” She blushed, wetting her lips with her tongue. “I didn’t get my last birth control shot.”
Oh, this isn’t good. Akira inched closer to Jami, taking her hand. “Did you tell Sebastian? Or Luke?”
“Of course I did! I’m not trying to trap them.” Jami pursed her lips. “Sebastian decided both he and Luke will wear condoms all the time now. Until we ‘discuss it further.’”
Jami’s Master is a very smart man. Some of Akira’s worry eased up. But she wanted to keep Jami talking. Yes, sometimes Jami decided things out of nowhere. Nothing like this, though. Which meant she’d been thinking about it for a while. Akira eased up onto the sofa beside Jami, thanking Sahara quietly for refilling her glass of lemon water.
“Have you talked to your mother recently?” Akira took a sip of her flavored water to get the bitter taste of bringing up that woman out of her mouth.
Jami’s brow lifted. “Who? Silver? Yep. Just last night. Landon’s therapy is going well, Amia learned how to say ‘puck’—she hopes—and she thinks I’m too young. I hung up on her.”
“Oh, Jami.” Akira sighed. “I meant . . . ugh, never mind. What about your dad?”
“Dad would freak!” Jami shook her head quickly. “I’ll tell him when—if—it ever happens. Then he has to be happy and can’t kill his grandchild’s fathers.”
There was clearly no talking Jami out of this crazy idea. And trying would probably get her storming into her room. Akira was only a year older than Jami, but sometimes it felt like a lot more. Jami still had some growing up to do. Sometimes she could be very mature, but other times . . .
“Hey, I meant to ask—are you and Ford still fighting?” Jami’s lips curled up slightly at Akira’s groan. “What? I thought we were sharing drama?”
“There’s nothing between me and Ford!”
“I didn’t say there was!” Jami huffed out a laugh as she pulled Akira into her arms. “Don’t get all upset. We are not breaking up as best friends again. I almost rebounded to Braxton Richards, and the boy can’t do anything but stutter when a girl talks to him!”
“He’s shy.” Akira grinned, all too ready to move on from the baby—and worse, Ford—topics. “Did you see the segment of ‘Following the Cobras’ when the guys were ribbing him about his mom buying his suits? His face was so red! I was glad that Luke and Tyler stuck up for him.”
“Yeah, but now they’re calling them ‘momma’s boys united’!”
“Better than the ‘trouble triplets’!” Akira couldn’t stop laughing at that one. Jami had told her a little about what had happened when Luke had finally gotten home the day after the drunken piercing and tattoo incident. Sebastian hadn’t punished the young man, but had casually warned Luke that Chicklet may want his balls on a platter for corrupting her sub. And Sebastian hadn’t decided whether or not to stop her from taking them. She cocked her head thoughtfully. “I wonder if they have a nickname for us.”
“Yep. Bunnies on Ice.” Jami shrugged as Sahara and Akira stared at her. “Hey, I didn’t come up with it. I’m trying out again, you know.”
“You are?” A broad smile brightened Sahara’s face and made her eyes sparkle. “That would be awesome! We can help you practice routines and—”
“One sec.” Jami checked her buzzing phone, then stood as she answered. “Hey! Yeah, she’s—gotcha. Don’t worry about me. You take care of her.” She hung up and cleared her throat. “Sahara, you wanna come help me make those . . . umm, cupcakes? For the bake sale at Casey’s school? Becky’s swamped with work, and she asked if I’d mind.”
“Ah, how about I cook and you lick the spoon.” Sahara headed for the kitchen. “You coming, Akira?”
“No!” Jami hooked her arm with Sahara’s, dragging her forward. “She’s busy.”
I am? Akira watched them go, then froze as the front door creaked open. All she saw at first glance was a whole lot of leather. Black ropes in one big fist. A roll of duct tape in the other. Her gaze inched up to Cort’s hard stare and her stomach took a nose dive.
“Come here,” Cort said in a tone that had her skittering up to him before the fearful urge to make a mad dash the other direction took over. He pointed at the floor and she dropped to her knees. “You can safeword out at any time, Tiny, but otherwise, we’re going to play.” He used the end of the wrapped-up rope to tip her chin up. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The ropes, the tape, scared her. But he didn’t. There was only one problem. “If you cover my mouth, how can I—?”
Cort grinned and pulled a small bell out of his pocket. He made it jingle, then placed the ring holding the bell over her finger. “Hold this in your palm to keep it quiet. Make it jingle to replace your safeword.”
“You thought of everything.” Which was perfect. She wanted to experience all he had planned without feeling like she had to be his guide. The presence of another Dom might pave the way a little more smoothly, but it was so much more exciting to see where Cort would take this on his own. Besides, she couldn’t think of anyone besides Dominik that she’d feel comfortable sceneing with. And that door had been softly shut behind her.
Without any further discussion, Cort tore a piece of duct tape and placed it over her mouth. He took a knee and bound her arms to her sides with the rope, then helped her to her feet. Her palm grew moist around the little bell as he put her jacket over her shoulders, doing up the buttons so the ropes were hidden.
Panic made her breath come out fast through her nose. Would the jacket muffle the sound of the bell?
After holding her boots for her to slip into, Cort straightened and curved his hand under her chin. His brow creased slightly. “Ring the bell, Tiny.”
She shook her hand hard and a faint jingle could be heard. It’s fine. He can hear it.
Cort nodded. “All right, that’s not too bad. Feel free to clear your throat if I don’t catch the bell fast enough.”
She inclined her head, his attention to all the little details making it a bit easier to relax.
“I’m going to walk you to my car. Keep your head down and don’t draw any attention to yourself.” His voice was gruff, almost cold, and she realized he’d gone into character. “If you behave, no one will get hurt. Blink once if you understand.”
One blink and she followed him out into the hall, keeping her head down. It was late enough for both the halls of the apartment and the streets beyond to be pretty much empty. They made it to the car without any trouble.
He opened the door to the backseat and gestured her in. After putting her seat
belt on, he leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I’ve planned this very carefully—kidnapping you and playing with you for a few days. No one will even know you’re gone. You’re completely at my mercy.”
Which is exactly where I want to be.
Chapter Eighteen
Cort carried Akira into the cabin after an hour-long drive and brought her to the largest bedroom—the only one with an attached bathroom. He undid the ropes and placed a pair of soft cuffs around Akira’s wrists, linking them behind her back. He hadn’t had much time to organize everything after renting the cabin, but he hadn’t needed much. Food and necessities. A few toys, some ropes, and a door handle he’d installed on this room which could be locked from the outside.
Akira hadn’t used the bell yet, but he still looked her over before leaving the room, checking her coloring, her pulse, and her wide eyes. She seemed more excited than anything—probably wondering what kind of kinky games he had planned. Sex had been pretty tame over the last two weeks, and he knew she was waiting for him to spice things up.
Just gotta take care of something first, Tiny. He left the bedroom door open as the doorbell sounded, recalling Dominik’s firm warning never to leave a bound sub alone.
Ford stepped in, shaking snow from his hair and brushing it off his jacket. His eyes were hard as he looked up at Cort. “I take it whatever you wanted to talk about is bad if you had me come all the way down here?”
“Nothing bad. But it’s important.” Cort waited for Ford to take off his boots and jacket, then gestured for him to follow. “There’s something you need to take care of.”
“Yeah, what’s—” Ford froze in the doorway of the room, staring at Akira. Akira stared back. Ford spun around, his eyes blazing with rage. “What the fuck do you think you’re—?”
Cort grinned and moved forward, backing Ford into the room. “You two are going to work this out. You’re a Dom, so I trust you to respect her safeword if she uses it.”
“You’re missing a little thing called consent, asshole. I didn’t agree to this, and by the look on her face, neither did she.”
Delayed Penalty (The Dartmouth Cobras #5) Page 30