Marie Harte: Killer Thoughts

“I had them installed a few weeks ago. After your visit, of course.” Owen smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Now you’re going to tell me how you knew about Harry.”

“I, uh…”

Owen removed his shoes, and Ian watched, frozen, as the bigger man stripped him of his socks and then moved to his shorts. They’d come straight from the gym, so it wasn’t as if Ian wore layers of clothing. Embarrassing, because his dick stood out like a pike under that friggin’ nylon. Typically, Ian handled his lovers. They didn’t handle him. But Owen was different from the rest, in ways that unnerved Ian more than he felt comfortable admitting, even to himself.

Owen gripped him hard, and Ian nearly shot off the bed.

“Okay, now that’s sexual harassment,” he rasped when he settled back on the bed. His voice sounded shrill, and he hated the fact that he was hard and aching beneath Owen’s firm hand.

“Harry?” Owen said again, his eyes mean.

Oh shit . Ian felt Owen’s palm slide against his dampening shorts. “I saw the pattern, okay?” came out in a rush. “I was going to tell you he wasn’t right. I’d gone through some, um, financial documents and e-mails of his the last time I was here.” Ian sucked in a breath when Owen stroked him. “Jesus.”

“And?” Owen didn’t smile, laugh, or change the inflection of his voice.

Damn if that cool control didn’t make Ian want to come all over him. He pushed harder into Owen’s palm, overjoyed when Owen started jerking him off through his clothes.

“And I saw something…wrong. Harry was… Shit, Owen. Rub faster.” So of course the bastard slowed down. To Ian’s satisfaction, though, Owen sported some major wood.

“And?”

“And I went to Avery with what I thought.” Avery, the team’s prognosticator, a man who could see the future. “I asked him to focus for me, and he saw men try to kill you. They didn’t succeed. And then Tim was there, taking a bullet,” he said on a whimper when Owen slid his thumb over Ian’s slit.

Fuck, he was so wet. The thin fabric of his shorts looked damp, and he’d soaked his underwear. Oh God, in Owen’s own hand. Talk about a fantasy of epic proportions. Now if Owen would just take Ian’s shorts down and put his sexy mouth over Ian’s cock, Ian’s life would be complete.

Owen let him go. “So you knew but didn’t help me?”

Ian moaned. “I wanted to, but Avery told me not to interfere. I’d screw things up if I did, and you and Tim had it handled. If I did something, I might have killed you.”

Owen narrowed his gaze, his scrutiny intense.

Hopefully, he saw something good, because Ian was on fire to fuck. “Come on, dude. I did you a favor. I didn’t help, and we’re all good. I don’t suppose you’ll blow me?” Sure, he sounded overly hopeful. But a guy could dream.

To his amazement, the star of his daily fantasies didn’t say no. Instead, Owen stood and removed his clothing. Every last stitch, until he stood naked and hung like a fucking horse in front of Ian.

Ian tugged at his wrists, still constrained to the headboard. He wanted to touch that golden flesh, feel the warmth of skin against his palms. Like Ian, Owen had little chest hair. And what he did have was a golden blond, fine and so pretty around Owen’s hard nipples.

“Come on, sexy. Stop teasing,” Ian rasped.

“You’ve been a good boy,” Owen said. “So you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

“I knew you’d be into kink.” He’d read that one right.

“You need discipline.”

Uh-oh. “Um, wait. I meant kink- y , not like, full-on D/s shit.”

Owen’s grin scared the hell out of him…and nearly made him come.

“Now, now, my little thief. I think we can come to an understanding, don’t you?”

Owen tugged Ian’s shorts and underwear off, then lifted Ian’s shirt to his armpits, exposing his chest, which was much less impressive than Owen’s. Ian had some muscle but not much.

Trying to gain control over the situation, Ian tried again. He cleared his throat and prayed he sounded less hoarse than he thought he did. “So, Owen. You were telling me about the Kerrs. Jacob and Henry left. Carl…he wants to kill you, right?”

“We’ll discuss him later. Right now I need to fill your mouth. You talk too much, thief.”

Then, to Ian’s simultaneous horror and pleasure, Owen knelt on the bed and crawled to Ian’s side. He straddled Ian’s torso and walked on his knees up Ian’s body until his heavy balls rested over Ian’s mouth.

“That’s right, little thief. Time for you to steal from me again. How about this time, you take some pleasure, hmm?” Owen lowered himself over Ian.

“N-no condom?”

“No. I trust you keep yourself clean. Do you trust me?”

“You’re too controlling and careful to take a chance like that. Bastard.” Ian’s mouth watered. He so wanted a piece of this man, especially when Owen gave him a mean smile.

“Well, boy? Get to it.”

Ian was helpless to resist. He opened his mouth and sucked.

Owen had lost his fucking mind, but feeling Ian’s warm mouth over his sac was too right to resist. He’d dreamed about owning Ian for months. Now he’d make it a reality.

He moaned, unable to resist, as Ian expertly applied pressure to his balls. The light suck, the gentle scrape of teeth, and when his thief moaned his own pleasure, Owen couldn’t help himself. He rocked while Ian alternated sucking both balls. Then he moved back and angled his cock down, wanting to feel and see Ian swallow him. No condom, just skin-to-skin sex.

Ian didn’t protest, his slumberous expression one Owen committed to memory. A hank of his blue-black hair covered one eye, softening his face. But those plump lips, so soft and slick, moist with saliva, gave Owen a thrill. And maybe soon, some cum. So much better than my dreams.

Owen pushed just his cockhead between Ian’s lips and watched his lover suck, hollowing his cheeks until Owen’s eyes nearly crossed. He pumped short thrusts into the furnace of Ian’s mouth, and the man’s tongue lashed him until he was a hairbreadth from coming. No control, just pure, unadulterated pleasure. A rush to the end. Too soon…

“No,” Owen rasped, pulling out. “Not yet.”

Ian groaned. “Quit being a cock tease.”

Owen took a breath and let it out slowly. He mastered. He controlled. So how the hell had he let some smart-mouthed con artist nearly blow more than his mind?

He left the bed and looked down at Ian. The shirt had to go. He moved to his bed stand and took out a pair of scissors and a tube of lube—smart. He ignored the condom—not smart. But he was clean, and he knew for a fact that Ian had recently received a clean bill of health from his doctor. Despite wanting to appear like a slut—and he wore the moniker proudly—Ian wasn’t promiscuous. Owen had kept tabs on the younger man, and today he’d reap the pleasure from his surveillance.

Using the scissors and ignoring the sudden worry on Ian’s face, he cut through the thin T-shirt.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Yet Ian’s fear didn’t translate into a lessening of arousal. If anything, his cock bobbed with approval, still thick and wet and waiting.

“Getting you naked. As a member of my staff, you should be presentable.” Owen grinned at the curses coming from Ian’s mouth. After cutting the shirt from Ian’s fine body, he put the scissors back and grabbed the lube.

“Hold on.” Ian tried to act firm, but then he licked his lips, unable to hide his excitement.

“Oh, I’m holding on. Barely,” Owen muttered with a hard laugh. “You, my little thief, need discipline. Good thing Sir is here to give it to you.” Why not add to the fantasy? The Dom thing might be pushing it, and Owen didn’t need it to find pleasure. But with Ian, he more than wanted to challenge the stubborn younger man.