4-Bound By Danger (11 page)

He imagined that Sawyer approached him, and fuck, what he’d do to the boy…maybe drag him under the spray, press him to his knees and force his cock down Sawyer’s throat. Or maybe he’d strip his pants off and take him, bent over in the shower, where anyone could walk in and find them.

He’d come so hard he saw stars…and only then did Sawyer’s boots retreat.

He’d bet neither one of them got any sleep that night.

He’d also bet the same tonight. And he was too restless not to do something about it.

He’d Dommed before, never wanting the lifestyle like some of the men he was friends with. He’d met Clint on a joint mission with Delta and the SEALs and discovered they had the same bent. Clint had gotten him access to some of the more exclusive clubs, and while Rex enjoyed catting around, he’d always felt like he was missing a limb.

Now, he figured he could use a few of those techniques to get this party started and pull Sawyer closer to confessing his feelings. Because despite what he’d told Sawyer about not being able to make the first move, life was too short not to try to encourage the boy.

He reached out and dialed Sawyer’s number, pretty sure the boy wouldn’t be asleep.

His hello was tentative. Rex didn’t hesitate in saying, “You’re going to do everything I say—understand?”

“Rex—”

“It’s a yes or a no.”

A long pause and then a whispered, “Yes,” made Rex’s heart start beating again.

“Good. Now, put your hand around your cock.” There was a small whimper on the other end of the line that made Rex smile and grab his own dick. “Did you do it?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the operative word for this call, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like when I pressed against you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you beat off already tonight thinking about me?”

There was a long pause and then, “I wanted to, but I’m not exactly home.”

Rex forced his jealousy down. It wasn’t a yes answer, but he let it go because he wanted to know more. “Where are you?”

“I, ah, ended up at Jace’s. I’m on his pull-out couch.”

Rex relaxed again. “Ready to get rid of some of that tension?”

“Yeah.”

He let the slang go. “Good. Now I want a longer answer. Stroke yourself, close your eyes and imagine seeing me in the shower in Iraq.” Rex heard a long, stuttered breath from the boy and knew he could come from that sound alone. “You think about that a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly do you think about?”

“Rex, I—”

“Tell me.” The command in his voice jump-started Sawyer’s confession.

“Instead of just watching, I strip and walk over to you,” he said quickly. “You’re surprised to see me there—and I think you’re going to yell at me, because you always yell at me, but you don’t.”

Rex closed his eyes and tried not to wince at the yelling part, because hell, he deserved that one. “Keep going. And be prepared to come whenever I tell you to.”

“Okay.” A hard swallow and then, “You grab me, pull me close. And then you…kiss me. And fuck, it’s good, Rex. So damned good.”

Sawyer’s voice caught, and Rex let him remain silent for a little while, just the heavy breathing across the line connecting them to each other. And then, without further pushing, Sawyer started talking again.

“When you break the kiss, I push you to your knees and I grab your shoulders and pull you close to my dick,” he said, and Rex’s eyes opened in surprise. So the boy had a little kink of his own, did he? Maybe he wasn’t as submissive as Rex thought—and that was damned appealing as well.

“Are you scared?”

“Yeah, a little. But I know you’ll take care of me. And you take my cock into your mouth and I have to grab on to your shoulders so I don’t fall, because it feels so good. And I come—right away—because it’s you. And it’s what I’ve wanted for so long. But you’re not upset. You just take everything I give and then you…fuck…”

He’d come—without Rex telling him to, and Rex stroked himself with a few hard tugs and joined him, the groans similar to the ones he’d had in Iraq that night. And even though the silence was between them, it was comfortable as the men caught their breaths and Rex reveled in the post-orgasm haze.

“We’ll do this again, Sawyer, after you get back from Coronado training,” Rex promised. “Remember where you left off.”

“Rex, I’m not sure—” Sawyer started to tell him.

“I know. But this is a start.” He hung up before either of them said anything more to ruin what had just happened, and, for the first time in years, he fell into a contented sleep.

They had a week together before Clint had to leave for his next assignment. A week of Clint lazing around Jace’s house while the boy went to base daily for PT and other training, came home to a good meal and a good fuck.

Man, he could get used to this.

Jace had gotten home from base a couple of hours earlier, was now quietly watching Clint pack up.

“I’m sure you’re headed out soon, too,” Clint said finally, and handed Jace a phone number.

“What’s this?”

“A service. For both of us. Call in, leave a message and I’ll get back to you no matter where I am or what phone I’m using. Same to you.”

Jace nodded. “I like that.”

“Good.” He ran a thumb across the boy’s bottom lip. “I can’t promise you more than this, because—”

“This is good enough for right now,” Jace assured him.

“Good.”

At this point, they both knew it was all they could have. Their jobs took them to dangerous places they couldn’t tell anyone about, and neither man was ready to give that up and settle down. At least that’s what Clint told himself Jace was thinking, because he was perilously close to thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could have some kind of life outside of the CIA—and he’d always known that just wasn’t possible.

Chapter Twelve

Jace called Kenny to meet him for a quick bite to eat in order to fill the hours until night training, when he realized he’d been aching since Clint left.

He’d been doing his job, dealing with Kenny, pretending everything was business as usual while inside he felt like something was missing.

And someone was. Clint had only been gone a week, but it felt like far longer, despite the texts and the call he’d managed.

It had been so much easier when Jace believed it would be all about getting his sexual appetites slaked, when fucking and being held by Clint was all Jace thought he needed. When he hadn’t imagined anything beyond the physical, of course, since that need had been the greatest. Or at least he’d thought it had been. He was all kinds of turned around now.

And even then, Jace had been fooling himself, because he knew he’d want more. But in order to get more, he’d have to share bits of himself. And he’d been guarded as anything for as long as he could remember.

Changing wasn’t going to happen soon—or easily. He couldn’t get pissed at Clint for not sharing much when he was holding back everything, too, and not just the Fed stuff, which wasn’t technically his fault. No, his background, his needs beyond the sexual—all of that was held tightly inside, partly because every time they saw each other, it took a little while to right their footing. Sex helped and was always the most immediate need, but it was like getting to know Clint all over again, and vice versa. Their missions changed them, sometimes in imperceptible ways, and there was no SOP for this relationship. No rulebook.

“Hey, cuz—you look good. Happy, for a change,” Kenny noted, and Jace realized that yeah, it had been a long time since he’d been happy.

“Work’s been good,” was how he answered, avoiding anything personal, because even though they were family, they’d never done personal. Sure, Kenny could talk for hours about the women he banged—his term, not Jace’s—because he wore the leather vest, and Jace bit his tongue instead of telling him to get checked out at the free clinic.

He listened to Kenny talk about women and the club in general, hoping to glean anything he could. Kenny told Jace a couple of months ago that Cools had taken him aside and warned him not to say anything to Jace about any of the discussions held about the club’s activities.

For your cousin’s safety
, Cools had emphasized, and Kenny was now worried about everything he said to Jace about the MC. Granted, he still let shit slip, especially about his new job with them, and Jace carefully committed the dates to memory. The new job involved gun-running out of the new warehouse set up after the CIA had raided the first one. Jace had a strong suspicion the CIA had set this up purposely to lure the Killers and the Colombians right into their waiting hands, but he refused to say anything to the Feds about that, because it felt like a betrayal of Clint. He’d have to find another way.

He just hoped to hell that if he was right, Clint would give him fair warning to get Kenny out of the way somehow. Clint had intimated that he was keeping tabs on the job, still guiding the DEA within the structures he’d learned of during his time on the inside of the MC.

He wondered if there was going to come a point in time where he would just have to let Kenny make his own mistakes and pay the price of them without Jace’s aid.

“Just the dates, Kenny—so I can make sure I’m around if you get into trouble with the law,” Jace told him, and Kenny couldn’t argue with that.

After half an hour, a couple of the Killers rode up in full gear.

“I told them I’d be here with you,” Kenny said, and Jace cursed inwardly.

Half the people who were sitting at tables in the outside portion of the burger joint got up and left, mainly those with kids, while many of the girls and women stayed, lowered their shirts a little so their breasts jutted, licked their lips and seemed to cry out for the attention.

Jace wanted to tell them that none of them should want the kind of attention this lifestyle would bring them, but he had enough trouble with the one idiot he was sitting next to.

Kenny waved to them, and Jace tensed like there was an imminent firefight in his future.

Nacho and Shaz tapped fists with both men, sat next to Kenny and ate off his plate but didn’t dare touch Jace’s.

“Your cousin’s been making a name for himself,” Nacho told him. High-school dropout with no life outside the gang, he was taking Kenny a little too much under his wing.

Jace should’ve brought Kenny into the military with him. Should’ve insisted on it. He just kept eating while they talked sports and fucking and riding until a subject that made his blood run cold came up.

“Wait, back up on that,” he said, and Nacho looked at him warily.

“Cage fighting—Kenny’s up next week. We’re training him for the big night.”

It took everything Jace had not to smash Nacho’s forehead into the table. Kenny avoided looking at Jace, because he knew his cousin was seething.

Kenny knew some basic bar-fighting moves, but cage fighting was serious business around here. Totally illegal, off-the-charts violent, with an anything-goes attitude, and Kenny didn’t need to lose any more brain cells.

“You’d be a shoo-in,” Nacho told Jace now. “Too bad. Although you could do it and just not tell anyone who you are.”

There was no use explaining that his hands were registered deadly weapons for a reason, that he could kill a man so many different ways that he couldn’t even pretend it would be a fair fight. Rules were in place for a reason—men in his job had fought before—innocent bar fights—and they’d killed men accidentally, because judging their own strength against an untrained opponent just wasn’t something they could always control.

“Yeah, think of all the money we could pull down,” Shaz was adding. “Jace, what if you just teach us some of your moves?”

“I’m sure Cools has some.” Jace shoved his food away. He’d lost his appetite. “Gotta head out. Talk soon.”

He didn’t look back at the table of assholes, was heading to evening training hours earlier than necessary just to get his head back on straight after this little meeting of the minds. Maybe Sawyer was around.

But apparently it was going to be an entire day of assholes, because his handler rang him up when he was almost to base.

Mike didn’t want to hear that he hadn’t been able to glean much intel. The whole thing was like walking over a live landmine. There was no way you weren’t going to take a hit, no matter how carefully you stepped.

“Tell me you’ve got something for me, Jace,” Mike said in that I-just-want-to-help-you-out bullshit tone.

He told Mike about the dates for the newest runs.

“That’s it?”

“Ah, fuck, Mike, that’s enough. I’ve been away.”

“What do you know about that Tomcat guy who was murdered?” Mike asked him, and Jace’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Trying to figure out if he was the real deal.”

“He was.”

“You’re sure?”

“You don’t think I can spot an undercover?”

“Because if he was, we’d have to know.”

Jace flashed his ID to the guard at the side gate and drove through base to get to the SEALs training center, telling Mike evenly, “He was an enforcer. This wasn’t his first turn with a gang. I talked with him a few times since he was former military, but he never gave me any details because he knew I was active duty.”