Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08] (16 page)

Like a warm piece of velvety steel. Owen sucked him deeper, laving his crown and wanting more. He wanted to come deep in Ian’s ass and watch the man explode all over himself, that seed raining over his belly like a creamy waterfall.

Owen eased off Ian’s cock and tugged him back. “On your knees, boy. Let’s see you suck some cock.”

Ian scrambled to his knees, but not before Owen got a hand on the chain. A brief tug and Ian jetted a small bit of fluid.

“Not yet, Owen. Please.”

“Knowing you’re a breath from coming is so fucking hot.” Owen watched while Ian knelt, waving his ass in the air. He didn’t wait but engulfed Owen in one hot suck that made his eyes cross.

Owen arched into Ian’s mouth, fucking him without realizing it as Ian bobbed in time. Before he lost control entirely, he wrapped his hands in Ian’s hair and pulled. “You little bitch. Not yet.”

Ian moaned. “Yes, Sir. God, do that again.”

Owen pulled his hair, and Ian went down on him again, moving with Owen’s guidance. Once again pushed to the breaking point, Owen yanked him up and off his wet shaft. “Grease me up. I want in that ass. Now.”

Ian hurried to comply. When Owen was thoroughly slick, he moved off the bed. “Come here, and bring a pillow.” He arranged Ian at the side of the bed, his ass propped up on a pillow while Owen stood ready and willing to fuck.

He stared down at his lover, his boyfriend, and smiled. Ian looked like a work of art himself. The clamps and chain had been made to be worn by him. And that cock ring plumped his balls and made his cock look even larger. So wet and needy. For Owen.

“I want to watch this. We’re going to go slow…” He prodded Ian’s legs wider and positioned his cock at Ian’s hole. Then he took Ian’s cock in hand, rubbing his thumb over the slit while Ian writhed in frustration.

“Please. I need you in me.”

“Yes. You need me. Say it again.”
Admit what I want more than my next breath.

“I need you, Owen.”

Owen pushed the head of himself in and nearly lost it. “Again,” he growled.

Ian didn’t blink. “I need
you
.”

He looked as open as Owen had ever seen him. And Owen had to have him. He slid slowly inside Ian while masturbating him, watching his lover get off while fucking him. He wanted to remain still, to enjoy the sensation of oneness. But he’d pushed them both too hard.

Owen started fucking him, long strokes in and out that hit Ian’s pleasure center, causing Ian to cry out, not even bothering to try to be quiet. Enraptured, Owen hammered harder and continued stroking Ian’s cock.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, gonna come. Owen, yes.
Yes
.”

Ian yelled as he shot like a geyser, his seed landing all over his belly and Owen’s hand. He babbled incoherently as he released, and Owen reluctantly let him go so he could put his full attention on his own pleasure. It took three more thrusts before he lost his sanity.

“Ian,” he cried as he came harder than he ever had in his life. Oddly enough, he swore he felt a surge of power, not unlike what he sometimes experienced with Caleb, as he came. A psychic as well as a physical connection. And God knew, he already had an emotional tie to his lover.

“
Fuck
. I love you, little thief. I love you so much.” He thought he’d whispered it. At least, he prayed he had. But as he slumped over Ian and caught his breath, he felt Ian’s tight hug and a whisper of words over his shoulder. He just wished he knew what his little thief might have said.

IAN WANTED TO believe what he thought he’d heard, but he knew all too well that sometimes things said in the heat of lust meant nothing more than a damn good time. He didn’t mention it, nor did Owen. Not the next morning, or the next day after that.

A quiet week passed where Owen caught up on business and healed. Caleb had left with a promise to return soon. From the quiet way he and Owen would stand together sometimes, Ian knew they talked telepathically about dangerous crap Owen didn’t want him to worry about. He would have been more offended if Owen didn’t often include him with other matters in the household. That, and Owen had been fucking him like crazy, with a desire that still took Ian’s breath away. The man was hung like a stallion and didn’t care who knew he and Ian had a relationship. He now kissed Ian openly, in front of the others.

And no one seemed to care.

He’d also made a place for Ian in his life. Ian had been more than happy to take care of a few administrative matters for Owen to ease his own mind, like beefing up the man’s pitiful online security system. The Knoxes and Tim could worry about the physical security of the place, but Owen’s real vulnerabilities, in Ian’s opinion, lay in his weak firewalls.

He managed to beat Owen at cards but lost at Scrabble both times they’d played, and he’d never been happier to lose. So satisfying to have a worthy opponent once more. Tim seemed just as glad not to have to play with Ian again.

They’d had a
family
movie night just last night, and the confused expression on Tim’s face at being included had moved Ian. When he’d lain with Owen in bed, they’d talked about how well everyone fit in at the Bend home.
The Bend home
. It no longer weirded him out that Owen had more than one place to live.

He knew it was only a matter of time before Kerr attacked or Owen had to leave to address concerns in the financial world he’d been holding off. It felt surreal, being here with people who liked him. Even the Knoxes had thawed toward him, especially once Ian had given Reuben a few hints about how to woo Dolly from things he’d overheard her say. From the big smile on the guy’s face this morning and Dolly’s blush anytime she looked his way, Ian thought Reuben might have gotten lucky last night.

Too bad Joe moved like a snail around Tim. To Ian and Owen’s surprise, Tim was shy when it came to dating. If Joe didn’t make a move, nothing would happen. But instead of letting Ian give Joe a few pointers, Owen had advised him to let them be. Reuben didn’t see Ian as a threat with Dolly. Joe might not take the advice so well. A smart suggestion, considering Ian would belt Joe in the mouth if he thought about telling Owen how to handle
him.

“Ian, could you come here for a minute?”

He waved at Bev and grabbed half a sandwich. “Hold on, oh lord and master.” He’d been having a grand time at Owen’s expense, and Owen allowed him the jeers. Only because Ian performed so well in bed as his slave, according to Owen. The big tease. “Where are you?”

“East wing,” sounded through the intercom on the wall.

The place had enough space that sometimes Ian turned in the wrong direction. He moved down the hallway toward the glass-enclosed sunroom and stopped. The door before the sunroom was open, and Owen stood inside.

“What do you think?” Owen asked.

Ian stepped cautiously into the room. “About what?” He saw a table and an easel, brushes, paints, and a few pieces of Owen’s more expensive art on the walls that hadn’t been there yesterday.

“This. Your office.”

“My
office
?” Ian gaped as he moved around. The sun was just setting outside, and the picturesque view he had of the mountains was to-die-for amazing.

“Well, not office exactly. There’s a computer desk I ordered, and the computer hasn’t come in yet. But I was thinking it could be a studio, you know. You like to paint, right?”

Owen had his hands in his pockets and seemed a bit tense. Ian didn’t know what to say. This seemed like a lot of trouble to go through for a few weeks’ stay. But the light in here couldn’t have been better. He had the sudden urge to create.

“You like it?” Owen asked again, frowning. “Because I could arrange something else. I just thought the light looked pretty good in here, and—”

“I love it!” Ian let himself be dramatic and spun around with his arms wide, laughing. He noticed the tension leave Owen’s broad shoulders, and a gorgeous smile lit his face. “Just think of all the great paintings I can reproduce! I’ll be a millionaire, like you, in no time.”

Owen shook his head. “Ian…”

“Oh relax. Don’t get your panties in a twist, sunshine. I’m teasing. I think I might try my hand at landscapes, since I have such a terrific view.”

“Maybe you could do one.” The pregnant pause sounded overly loud to Ian. “For our bedroom.”

“Really?”
Our bedroom?
“You’d want to hang something of mine in there?”

“An original, yes. Nothing copied.” Owen scowled. “And you need to tell Mannie Frankton that you’re withdrawing the Whistler he commissioned. That sucker’s mine.”

“Wait. What?” How had Owen found out about that? Ian had mentioned the etching he might copy a week ago to Mannie, his black-market contact. But now, the way he and Owen had been getting along, he wanted to keep their interaction private. He wouldn’t feel right selling anything to Mannie, not behind Owen’s back, at least.

“You have your sources. I have mine.” Owen winked at him, kissed him on the cheek, and sauntered out.

Had to be Tim. Ian shook his head, moved by Owen’s generosity.
Our bedroom. Jesus.

It was getting harder to remind himself that Owen had been nice because of Kerr. Once that situation was remedied, he’d need to get back home to his things. His house. A place that meant a lot less to him, the more time he spent with his boyfriend.

Ian warmed. He had a boyfriend. Maybe he and Owen could continue once this ended. They wouldn’t be as tight, of course, but hell, Owen had trusted him with personal secrets he didn’t share with anyone else. He liked Ian as a person. They could at least remain friends.

Thoughts of the future without Owen depressed him, so Ian focused on his new studio. He didn’t like the paint color in here, so he decided he’d go with a creamy blue. No, green, a subtle jade over one wall to match Owen’s eyes… Better yet, a mural.

He might not be staying forever, but he’d sure as hell give Owen something to remember when he was gone.

Chapter Eleven

Owen knew the time would come when he and Ian would have to rejoin the real world again. Their week together had been ideal, and he’d been allowed to see the charming soul buried beneath the joking con man. Bev and Dolly had already given their subtle seals of approval.

Reuben had hinted at expanding the outdoor space to include a private spa, since Ian had mentioned how much he liked to soak in the indoor one. Even Joe seemed to have thawed toward Owen’s little thief. Tim thought Ian walked on water. Instead of wanting a transfer after keeping an eye on him for a few days, Tim insisted on making sure of Ian’s continued safety.

If not for the man’s less than subtle interest in Joe, Owen might have been jealous. It was as if Ian had brought life and love into his house. Reuben and Dolly were openly dating. Joe kept inching closer to Tim. And Bev cooked like a dream while testing recipes for her upcoming cookbook, eagerly awaiting the changes to the place she could see coming. Though she’d never met any of his past dates, she’d told Owen Ian was her favorite by far. Charming, handsome, and he had the good taste to fall in love with Owen.

If only. Owen knew Ian felt more for him than lust. But how much more? He wanted badly to press Ian to stay, but he still worried about scaring the man away.

And then there was Kerr to take care of.

“Boss, you need to hear this,” Tim said quietly from just behind him.

Owen turned and followed Tim to his office, where Joe stood with an angry expression. Caleb stood with him, having apparently returned a day early.

“Caleb.”

“Owen. Wish I’d brought better news.”

He ran a hand through his hair, so that it stood on end.

“I did some digging. You’re not going to like this.”

“Hell. Tell me.”

Caleb propped his hip against Owen’s desk. “Rumor has it Kerr put a hit on the admiral’s favorite cleanup specialist.” Meaning a hit on the Fixer.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish. But that means somehow an identity got blown.”

They’d face that later. “Who’s got the hit?”

Caleb shook his head. “Mickelson.”

He snorted. “Ronald Mickelson?”

Tim and Joe followed the conversation like spectators at a tennis match.

“Who’s Mickelson? And who’s been targeted?” Joe asked. “I’m assuming you, Owen.”

“Yeah, me. Targeted by a nut job who thinks he’s psychic.” He laughed, but when Caleb refused to join in, he sobered. “Tell me the rest.”

“Well, the thing is, Mickelson went off the rails a while ago. He had no talent to speak of. Could barely squeeze a trigger. But then the PWP got their hands on him because he had a friend in a high place. Next thing you know, Mickelson’s a rogue pyro.”

“Hold on.” Tim frowned. “You told us about the PWP. But are you saying this Mickelson character is after Owen, and he can control fire? Is that what you mean by pyro?”

Caleb nodded.

“So we take him out quick.” Joe made a gun with his hand and wiggled his thumb. “Bang.”

“A great idea, if we could find him. But Kerr is deep, and we have no idea where he’s hiding. Owen, I’m worried that if we let this stand, Kerr is going to drag this out for weeks, months. Hell, years. He wants to worry you, and having you fret about your sister and everyone here all the time is gonna wear thin. You need to take him out. Not wait.”

To Owen’s surprise, Tim agreed. “Yes, sir. He’s right. Take the offensive.”

Owen hadn’t wanted to share this yet. “I would, but a few days ago, he sent me an e-mail. He says if I even think about coming after him until
he’s
ready, he’ll start randomly killing people in town. Folks I might or might not know.”

“You mean shoot up Bend’s residents?” Joe asked, incredulous.

“Yes.” Owen sighed. “He’s a psychopath. He doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he’s happy.”

“So throw down the gauntlet and kill the fucker,” Caleb insisted.

“There’s a better way to ensure Kerr goes along with your plan,” Tim offered quietly.

Everyone turned to watch him.

“Give him something of yours, something valuable. Let him think he has the upper hand. Then take him down.”