Killer Thoughts

Chapter Three

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.

Ian groaned. “Are you kidding me? Sir? Really? I was kidding about the kink thing.”

He tugged halfheartedly at his bonds, and Owen knew it. The sexy thief might pretend he didn’t like being tied up, but his body didn’t lie.

“Let me go.”

“After.” Owen greased his cock, putting a liberal amount on. He had no idea how tight Ian might be. But he couldn’t wait to find out. He moved to the bed once more and knelt between Ian’s thighs. Propping his lover up, he tilted Ian’s hips and angled his cockhead at Ian’s tight entrance.

“Oh man. You going to rape me, boss?” Ian sneered.

Owen gripped Ian’s thighs and rested himself at the entrance to Ian’s hole. Fuck, he was hot. “Rape, hmm? Well, boy. Tell me. Should I let you go? Do you want me to leave you alone?” Owen didn’t move, though he wanted nothing more than to ram deep and come.

Ian squirmed, trying to impale himself on Owen, but Owen wouldn’t let him. No way he’d tolerate Ian pretending to be forced. Oh, they could play the force stuff later. But right now, Ian had to make a choice. Owen knew for a fact he hadn’t read his boy wrong, but he wanted Ian to admit the truth.

“Well?” Owen pulled back, regretting the loss of heat from Ian’s body. But before he could move completely away, Ian trapped him with his strong thighs.

“No.”

Owen raised a brow and didn’t move.

Ian swallowed convulsively. “No, Sir.”

“What do you want, exactly?”

“I want you.”

“Ah. Better.” Owen placed himself back at Ian’s entrance, taken with his lover’s flushed face and nipples. Those pretty buds standing on end, needing a good bite. Or better yet, with studs through them. Ian would look beautiful with his nipples pierced. “What do you really want? Tell me, little thief.” Keeping himself still but for the tip of his cock at Ian’s entrance nearly killed him. Ian groaned and bucked, but Owen wouldn’t be pushed.

“Shit. I want you, Owen, Sir, whatever you want to be called. I want to feel that fat, juicy cock up my ass.” Ian moaned and twisted his hips, and Owen’s cockhead pushed into Ian the slightest bit. “Please.”

“You don’t beg well. But you will.” Owen decided to end their torment, because by damn, he had to have Ian. Now.

Slowly sliding into Ian’s ass was like heaven. Ian gloved him, the tight grip of his flesh too good to deny.

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Owen groaned and continued to push until his balls were flush against Ian’s ass. “Your cock is still so hard. And pearly at the tip. You hungry for it, boy?”

Ian nodded, his eyes nearly closed as he gasped his pleasure. “Oh yeah. Fuck me. God, make me burn. I need to come so bad.”

Owen retreated, then slowly pushed back inside. He watched Ian’s ecstatic expression and experimented by shifting his angle to see what his thief liked best. When he found Ian’s hot spot, he took Ian’s cock in hand and started jerking him off.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, yes. Yes, please,” Ian cried and jetted all over his belly.

He made a mess as Owen took him harder, incredibly moved by Ian’s raw sexuality. But when Ian clamped so hard with his ass, Owen couldn’t stop himself. He let go of Ian’s cock and slid his fingers through Ian’s cum.

He fucked him faster, nearing his end. “Taste yourself,” he ordered and lifted his finger to Ian’s mouth. All the while, he continued to fuck his boy harder, taking purchase in every gasp and groan.

And then Ian sucked his finger, laving it with his tongue. And Owen remembered that mouth around his cock. The thought of filling those beautiful lips, watching this gorgeous man accept such pleasure, had his discipline careening out of control. Owen thrust once more and cried out, coming hard.

He spurted, the rush of bliss taking everything but pleasure from his mind and body.

After a few moments, he felt Ian’s legs stroking the back of his thighs. He blinked down to see Ian staring up at him with what looked like awe. But when Ian saw him staring, his expression changed, growing sly.

“Was it good for you…Daddy?”

Owen barked a laugh, which seated him deeper and caused them both to shiver. “Please. I’m no one’s daddy…boy. You call me Sir. Or Master if you like.”

“God. No Master. I can barely handle Sir. I don’t do authority.”

Ian’s mutiny looked adorable.

“Oh?” Owen pulled away, the slide of his semierect cock evident by the look of ecstasy on Ian’s face. “Because you did me.”

“Funny.”

“I think you liked me being in charge.”

“Maybe. Just in bed, though, so don’t think you can boss me around all the time.” Ian arched his hips up, trying to keep Owen inside.

“Mmm-hmm.” Owen withdrew and left to go to the bathroom. After cleaning himself up, he returned to handle Ian. Bathing the cum from his lover’s body, taking care of him, felt right. Too right. He cleared his throat and moved to undo the cuffs around Ian’s wrists. One flick of a button and they opened.

He lay next to Ian on his back. To his pleasure, Ian rested on his side, propped on his elbow, leaning toward him.

“Hey.”

Ian frowned, but Owen saw the spark of amusement.

“I could have released them myself.”

“But you didn’t.” That a man as sharp as Ian hadn’t even tried spoke volumes. “Now, let’s be honest. You need my cock buried up that ass as much as I need you taking it. It’s been building between us for months. So say it with me. In bed, Owen is in charge. Like you mean it, boy.” Owen used his mean voice, and Ian responded.

He let out a breath and snapped a smart-ass salute. “Yes, Sir. In bed, you’re in charge.”

“Ian.”

Ian lifted a finger and drew it over Owen’s chest. “And if you want me to blow you, anytime, you just have to ask.”

“Right.” Owen believed that like he believed Kerr would be easy to take down. “I’ll probably have to bribe you. You’re not that easy.”

“You sure, handsome? Because I’m a pretty popular commodity in Bend. I have a lot of friends.”

“Oh?” Amused, Owen let Ian pet him, conscious of Ian’s attempt to put them on equal footing. So I’m just another notch on your belt, hmm? “How’s that? Because from what I know, your last relationship ended four months ago. It didn’t last, because he frankly wasn’t old enough for you.”

Ian flushed. “He was twenty-four, for God’s sake.”

“Yes, and way too young and easy to handle. Like all your other lovers have been. Casual. Young. Tossed aside.” Unlike Owen, who knew just how to handle him.

“What the hell would you know about it?” Ian clenched a fist on Owen’s chest.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, Ian Ryder. Frank Hanover. Michael Wilder.”

Ian blinked. “How do you know those names?”

“Your aliases, you mean?” Owen shrugged and linked his hands behind his head. “I know about all my employees.”

“Now that was just mean.” Ian grinned. “Though I admit I’m impressed. I used Frank Hanover with Chloe and Noah, so that alias was easy to get. But I had Michael Wilder buried deep.” He paused, his eyes narrowed. “Or so I thought. You’re more than just a pretty face and a big wallet, aren’t you, Owen?”

“How flattering.” Owen sighed and closed his eyes. “Yes, Ian. I have a brain too. For instance, I know you’ve been snooping through my house. That against Jack’s and Kitty’s orders, you tried to sneak a look at The Little Death, a figurine—”

“Worth a cool quarter million,” Ian interrupted.

“—that is responsible for too many deaths to count over the years. Why do you think I’ve hidden it in my vault? I also know you’re involved in two open forgery cases currently ongoing in the states of Washington and California. You try, but you just can’t keep your nose clean.”

“You seem to have all the answers.” Ian’s soft voice warned he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“Not at all. I think I found where Kerr has been hiding, but I’m not sure what he plans to do to draw me near. I can’t tell you why Harry nearly killed me, when he’d been as close to me as my own family. And I don’t know if I can count on the man I’d like to bring in to help us end this.”

“Us? Now there’s an us?”

Curiously, Ian didn’t sound panicked. “Us, as in, you’re helping me, and I just fucked you. So yes, us.”

“So romantic, Owen.” Ian paused a moment. “Okay, we’ll get back to Kerr. But I have to know something. You’ve dated women, beautiful, rich, successful women. Were they beards or what?”

Trust Ian to be more concerned with Owen’s love life than the possible danger facing them. “No, they weren’t covering for me. I genuinely like women and men. I’m bisexual.”

“Ah. That answers a lot of questions.”

Ian looked down at him, his deep blue eyes so serious. So amazingly beautiful, framed by thick lashes and set in a face made to be worshipped. It always stopped Owen’s train of thought when he spied Ian, so that he had to work to appear unaffected when what he really wanted to do was lick his thief from tip to toe.

“But I sense you have more.” Questions.

Ian nodded. “Linda Cavendish. She tried to shoot you. She would have, except she coincidentally dropped dead of a heart attack before she could pull the trigger. I couldn’t see what happened, since I was inside the closet at the time.”

“Spying on me.”

Ian blinked. “Ah, kind of. But I know she wouldn’t have missed you from that close a distance. By all rights, you should be dead, Owen. We both know it. So what really happened with Linda? And don’t think for a second I’ll buy an ‘act of God’ excuse. If she had a heart attack all on her own, I’m Jack’s best friend.”

Owen had known this was coming. But he didn’t have an answer for his new lover, not yet, maybe not ever. His psychic ability remained a secret from everyone but a select few. His old spotter, Caleb Dalton, knew. Then there was Owen’s friend and a man whose projects he often funded, Admiral Geoffrey London. And Heather, of course. They’d discussed his talent years ago, right after he’d killed to avenge their father. He’d wanted her to know. They’d never spoken about it, but he’d understood she needed closure the same way he had. Which made him wonder if she’d told Jack about him. He didn’t think so. Even as close as Heather and Jack seemed to be, his sister would never reveal his gift without asking first.

Sad that he could only trust Heather with his closely kept secrets. But at least he’d never told Harry what he could really do. He’d learned his lesson all too well when it came to relying on others. Even Tim, who’d taken a bullet and saved Owen’s life, could someday turn if Owen wasn’t careful to keep an eye on him.

Money did strange things to people, which was one of the reasons Owen liked Ian so much. The mouthy thief didn’t seem to care how much money Owen had. Oh, Owen had no doubt Ian would steal him blind if he let him. Ian liked the finer things in life, and he scrapped to get them. But he made no bones about his profession, and he’d never pretended to be anything he wasn’t—not to Owen at least. He was one of the few people not afraid to tell Owen the truth about things. Several times he’d even told Owen to kiss off when Owen pushed too hard, and to hell with Owen’s feelings.

Owen stared up into Ian’s frown and smiled. Ian blinked at him, seeming confused. Owen pulled his face down for a kiss. He didn’t let Ian turn it into something carnal. Instead, Owen played, exploring the hard yet soft facets of Ian’s mouth. Kissing the man with an emotion he didn’t often give others, Owen let himself fall under Ian’s spell for a little while. Pretending Ian felt the same affection, at least, until Owen could seduce him into feeling it.

IAN KISSED OWEN back, stunned at the depth of his feelings. This was supposed to have been a casual fuck. Fast and hard, and then he’d know exactly what it felt like to bottom for Owen Stallbridge. Except Owen’s kiss melted his resolve to keep his emotional distance. And then after kissing Ian for what felt like forever, bringing his cock back to life, Owen ended it, rolled them both over, and cuddled next to him.

Ian lay there, baffled, in lust, and strangely more attracted to Owen because he couldn’t figure the man out.

Owen sighed and pulled back. He slapped Ian on the ass.

“Ow.” Ian glared over his shoulder at him.

“I’m going to shower. You can join me if you like. Then we’re getting back to work. I’ll explain about Kerr. Now that I have him in my sights, it’s time to take him down.”

Owen left the bed, uncaring of his nudity—and why should he care, with a body like that?—and ambled to the bathroom. He disappeared inside, and soon the shower could be heard.

Ian rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling.

What the hell?

For months he’d watched and studied the man he considered his new mark. One way or the other, Ian planned on capitalizing on Owen’s wealth. The man could clearly afford it, and Ian would consider it a bonus for work well done. Though he’d used illegal means to help Jack’s team get the information they needed to recover Owen’s property, no one seemed to mind. And hey, though Ian hadn’t been in on the actual recoveries, he’d played a vital role. Time to reap the reward, in his opinion. So he kept an eye on the best-looking man he’d ever seen—discounting every time Ian looked in the mirror, of course.

Owen was a player, a lot like Ian. Yet the man’s smooth polish and money cleared doors Ian could only dream about.

Stallbridge had a reputation as an excellent lover and often left his partners wanting more. A heartbreaker, which would have been a problem for Ian if he’d had a heart to break. Ian had been a thief for longer than he cared to remember. He didn’t need emotion clouding his business sense.

Though he’d been ordered to work closely with Owen the last month, he’d welcomed the chance to study his prey up close. Except he wasn’t sure he liked what he’d seen. Owen seemed to be a pretty damn nice guy. He treated the people who worked for him like family.

Ian found it easy and even rewarding to rob from abusive, self-involved socialites. Even better, he liked taking from the cruel and depraved wealthy. Call him a snob, but Ian despised rich people. Having spent most of his childhood in shelters or homeless while his father worked his ass off to provide for them had given him a sour taste about money.

Owen had been born a rich kid, yet he didn’t act stuck-up or entitled, and that made Ian more than curious. Heather, his sister, was the same way. They must have had kick-ass parents, was all he could think. Because when the elder Stallbridges died, leaving Owen a rich man at seventeen, he could have gone crazy with the money. Instead, he’d buckled down, been responsible, and increased the family fortune.

Ian sighed. What the hell was he doing, thinking so hard about Owen? He had a job to do, period. Help Owen catch Kerr. In the process, scam on getting back into that vault, where he’d seen a few paintings he knew he could copy and resell for a tidy nest egg. After he finally had enough to feel good about his future, Ian would reconsider his present. Stay in Bend? Go? Retire at age thirty-one?

Nah, he’d be bored to death. But did he want to keep forging and possibly getting caught, forever looking over his shoulder?

“Ian,” Owen barked from the bathroom.

Muttering under his breath about pushy millionaires, Ian walked into the bathroom. The glass shower door opened, and Owen peered out, looking annoyed.

“Come here.”

Ian couldn’t stop staring at his naked and wet lover. Oh man, I did Owen Stallbridge. And fuck of it all, he wanted to do him again.

Owen noticed the erection Ian couldn’t help, and the asshole grinned.

“What?” Ian snapped.

Owen’s smile faded. “Come. Here.”

That mean tone had Ian suppressing a shiver. He tried to appear reluctant as he neared, but when Owen snagged him by the arm and dragged him into the massive stall for more pleasure, Ian didn’t have the heart to protest. Not when he couldn’t stop moaning Owen’s name.

The next morning, after having Tim escort him home to fetch a change of clothes and some shower gear, Ian had returned to the Stallbridge mansion and used Owen’s impressive shower. He cleaned up, then ate an amazing breakfast prepared by the delightful Bev. Two hours later, he stood in Owen’s vast study and glared at him from across the room. The place had a modern aesthetic that appealed to Ian, mostly because it suited the man currently annoying him. Owen had dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt, showcasing those impressive biceps, while Ian had thrown on a pair of denim shorts and a borrowed T-shirt from Owen that probably cost a hundred bucks, it was so soft. He felt like a kid playing dress up in the overlarge thing, while at the same time he mentally refused to give it back. It belonged to Owen, and Ian wanted it. Not to remember the big dude when this ended. Just because.

Owen scowled at him. “So you’re telling me the information you gave me last week was false? Do you remember what you told me about Kerr and where we should look?”

“Owen, I retain everything. I know exactly what I told you.”

“Remind me.”

Ian bit back a curse, aware of the others watching. Owen had called in Tim and one of his security men, Joe Knox. The other Knox brother, Reuben, remained in the heart of the mansion, overseeing security. They made great protectors from a physical perspective—because they looked like human guard dogs.

“Arms shipments have been moving around the Oregon and Washington coasts,” Ian reiterated. “A few deaths and some small-time deals, which could be attributed to anyone, stuck out. The manner in which a few of the men were killed has Kerr’s MO.”

Joe frowned. A big guy with a buzz cut, like his older brother. Both men put Ian in mind of broad-shouldered robots who would rip your arms off as soon as look at you. Way too brutish for Ian’s taste. They made Tim seem friendly, and Ian hadn’t thought that possible.

“Explain to me what Kerr’s MO is, exactly. From everything I’ve seen on the guy, he’s a sadist who’s into abusing young men. But he’s a businessman first and foremost. He kills with a bullet to the brain or knife to the throat. Competition squashed. Period.”

“True. But he has a signature on his more personal kills.” Ian glanced at Owen, who nodded at him to go on. He swallowed the disgust balled inside him and continued, pretending it didn’t bother him that innocent young men had been killed so some perverted shithead could get off. “He’s gone off the deep end since the Feds nearly caught him back in February. Back then, his dead bodies were somewhat normal. Vics raped, stabbed repeatedly, dumped in alleys. Always good-looking young men.”

“And now?” Joe asked.

“I’ve been studying his victims. He’s…well, he’s a lot crazier. He’s carving his initials into their skin. And rape is a kind word for what these men suffer.” Ian couldn’t contain a shiver.

“How are the cops not after him, then? A serial killer is big news.”

Owen shook his head. “Kerr doesn’t leave his mark where people notice it. It’s a pattern only Ian noticed, right?”

“Yeah.” Ian swallowed hard. “At first I thought you wanted me to find the weapon doing the killing. Like, maybe it was cursed or something. But the pattern of cuts… It’s a K, for sure. You have to look hard, and sometimes he makes the cuts under the skin into muscle, but with the blown-up autopsies, I’m sure it’s him.”

Tim frowned.

Joe blew out a breath. “Sick fuck. Okay, boss, so you’re sure you don’t want us to take him out for you?”

Owen answered firmly, “No. Trust me. He knows I’m here, and he’s waiting for me to make a move. I took Ian’s info to a friend of mine in DC. Kerr is holed up on an island off the Washington coast. A private island, belonging to a friend of his family’s.”

“Great. So bomb the motherfucker, and we’re done.”

Joe’s simple answer sounded good to Ian.

Tim nodded. “I like that. A targeted hit and he’s out.”

“I would, but knowing Kerr, he’s got leverage. Probably innocent people trapped with him. I know he’s protected with more firepower than we have, I’m afraid.” A beep signaled an incoming call.

Owen pressed a button on the intercom on his desk. “Yes?”

“Sir, you have company,” Reuben reported. “A Mr. Caleb Dalton says he’s expected. He checks out, and he’s on the list.”

Ian didn’t like Owen’s wide smile.

“Ah, good. Caleb’s here. Let him in.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Out.” Reuben disconnected.

Owen rubbed his hands together. “My friend from DC is here. Things are about to get more interesting, gentlemen.”

Ian wished he felt more threatened by the fact that Dalton hailed from Washington, a place Ian never wanted to be again, than that the jerk might mean more to Owen than a casual friend. And what do I care? Owen’s just a rich tool, one I plan to use and lose… Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Ian. And maybe you’ll believe it.