Chapter Two
“Tanaka?” Brady walked out of the bedroom buttoning his jeans, his black shirt thrown over his shoulder. “Am I dreaming, or do I smell bacon?”
He was starving. Whatever was in that nasty swamp remedy, it had done the trick. If he hadn’t watched the video with his own eyes, Brady could almost convince himself he’d never gotten drunk at all.
He saw a covered plate with a Post-it note beside it. Taking an office call then grabbing a shower for myself. Eat.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Brady saw the carafe of orange juice and poured some in a large glass with ice before carrying it and his plate to the living room. He’d been here before, though he’d spent most of his time across the hall in Tanaka’s office—basically a studio apartment filled with computer towers, monitors and the kind of surveillance equipment that would make any super spy envious.
Ken didn’t just own a downtown loft in a refurbished three-story warehouse—he owned and lived in the entire building. The first time Brady followed him here and saw his living space, he’d wondered aloud if the Scottish-Japanese technophile wanted to be Batman.
“You already have the lair, the finances and the right equipment,” he’d said.
“Why do you ask? Do you have a fetish for rich men in masks?” Ken asked, smiling that angelic smile.
“I don’t have fetishes,” Brady responded quickly. “But he isn’t my type. He’s got a cave full of baggage and relies on toys instead of natural talent. Give me Superman any day.”
Tanaka’s expression had changed, a flash of irritation mixed with hunger. “He’s got plenty of natural talent,” he’d muttered before changing the conversation back to the Finn family’s Burke problem.
Sitting on the leather couch, Brady set his glass on the coffee table and dug into his vegetable omelet and crisp bacon while studying the loft with fresh eyes. It was big enough to fit a car inside and still have room for a party. So much open space for one man, though the way it was laid out created the feel of several rooms without the use of hallways or closed doors.
The man who hacked into other people’s private lives obviously didn’t feel the need for his own privacy—either that or his decorator was one of those Peeping Toms from the club. There wasn’t even a door to his bathroom, just frosted glass blocks forming a partition between it and the living room.
That had given Brady pause…until he’d experienced the shower itself. It seemed to be made with his six-foot-five height and wide frame in mind. A rain showerhead sprouted from the ceiling, rather than the wall-mounted type that usually hit him squarely in the chest, and there was plenty of room to turn around. By the time he’d finished, he was considering staying and doing the job for the shower alone.
And that bed… Brady was not a small man, but he’d only taken up half the space on a mattress that was exactly firm enough and covered with sheets that felt like fluffy damn clouds. The mattress and the frame had to be custom made, since for the first time in his life his feet didn’t hang off the end. Call him Goldilocks, but that bed was just right.
He could only imagine what Ken needed with a bed like that. Orgies came to mind. Kinky, BDSM free-for-alls with plenty of lube and restraints to go around. His cock twitched at the thought of Ken and lube, and Brady frowned down at his empty plate, wishing he hadn’t eaten so fast. The food had been delicious and eating would distract him from thinking about sex.
Why did Tanaka have to be so damn perfect at everything? Cool computer genius, athletic martial artist, super sleuth, master chef and—according to Tasha and Owen—king of all things rope related. But those two had no idea where his true talents lay.
Brady exhaled and set down his plate so he could adjust himself through the snug denim as he thought about Ken’s wickedly skilled mouth. He’d had his first taste of that skill at Burke’s. They’d caught each other in the act, both snooping around somewhere they didn’t belong. Brady had set out to test Tanaka, to make sure he wouldn’t run to Burke to tell him the senator’s body man was in his private office. Faster than he’d expected, the casual interrogation had become intimate and laced with sexual innuendo. Before he knew it he was leaning against the desk and Ken was devastating him with his mouth, undoing his pants and leaving Brady too stunned to respond.
It still shocked him when he thought about it. How he’d been drawn to him like a magnet to metal from minute one. Tasha interrupted them just in time and he had to be grateful. One more taste of those talented lips and taunting tongue and Brady would have had Ken Tanaka right there on the floor, without knowing or caring that they were both on the same side. Both working for the feds to trip up their host.
He’d tried to steer clear after that, shaken by his own behavior, and then everything had gone to hell. Tasha ran away and Stephen lost it, and all Brady wanted to do, all he could think about doing for weeks, was fixing it. Luckily, Ken had the same idea.
A few months later the two men were being hailed as conquering heroes at the reunited couple’s wedding reception. Brady hadn’t wanted the attention but Ken had loved it, spending the evening pressing up against Brady each time someone wanted a picture. When the photographer asked for a shot of Ken and Brady with the bride and groom on the dock, Brady had seen Ken whispering in the grinning Tasha’s ear. A few minutes later all three men were in the lake and Tasha had gotten her favorite snapshot of the wedding. She’d actually had it framed and placed on her fireplace mantle.
It was right after that—when Ken followed Brady into his room for a change of clothes—that things had gotten personal again, just as quickly as it had happened before. One minute they were laughing and tugging at their wet jackets, the next Brady was shoving his soaked shirt in his mouth to mute his passionate shouts as Ken knelt in front of him and swallowed his cock.
Brady groaned and the sound echoed through the open loft. Thinking about the things Ken had done with his tongue, with the muscles in his throat, brought Brady instantly to the edge.
He was in a bad way. Maybe it was time to take a page out of his younger brother Rory’s playbook. Rory Finn never went to bed wanting. When he was on duty, he was the best EMT in the city, focused and indefatigable. He took his extracurricular activities just as seriously. If he saw a man he wanted—old, young, doctor, lawyer, waiter—he was relentless. Fearless.
For Brady, sex needed to mean something. Even before he’d enlisted and hook-ups got more complicated, he’d never been big on one-night stands. He’d always wanted more. But he hadn’t been with anyone in over a year—not since his ex went career instead of accepting his discharge. Marine-for-life meant no building a life together. In hindsight, that surprisingly unemotional break-up had been the right call, making his decision to come home a few months later a hell of a lot simpler. But it didn’t help him with his current predicament. At this point if he didn’t get over himself and find someone to sleep with soon, he would lose his fucking mind.
There’s someone right across the hall.
Unable to resist, Brady reached for the oddly-shaped remote on the coffee table and pushed a button, opening the floor-to-ceiling cabinet to reveal multiple monitors. One was tuned into a local news channel, but the rest were for personal security.
Ken had pointed this out the last time he was here. “You called me Batman?” he’d laughed. “Here’s another toy.”
Tanaka had cameras installed in his office, the gym that took up the entire second floor and an atrium that took up the first—a green, peaceful paradise complete with a hammock and a koi pond guarding the service elevator. Brady shook his head. He should have gone into computers instead of the family business—a career in freelance hacking was clearly more lucrative.
Brady focused on Ken’s office chair. That was where he should be, but the chair was empty. He rotated the small toggle that looked like it belonged on a videogame controller and watched the image change as the camera panned to find its target. It passed a line of laptops and flat-screened monitors and a small kitchenette that was cluttered with computer parts. When it had gone as far as it could, it was pointing directly at a clear glass wall dripping with water from another overhead shower.
“Jesus.”
What the hell did the man have against solid walls and doors?
Ken was facing the camera, and the glass did nothing to hinder the view. Brady shuddered. Heaven help him, but the view was too beautiful to resist. Ken stretched like a cat as the water flow over every lean, coiling muscle in his body. He tilted his head, his long braid wrapped in a masculine bun that made his neck seem more vulnerable. Brady wanted to scrape his teeth along that flesh. To mark it.
Ken’s hand slid down his smooth, hairless body to the hard cock between his legs, and Brady couldn’t resist unbuttoning his own jeans to join him.
He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be doing this at all—watching. Invading someone’s privacy. He wasn’t some pervert who got his kicks peeping in windows. Hell, he didn’t even watch porn or go to strip clubs. He never got the point of purposely paying to watch and want something he’d never be allowed to touch. But when it came to this man, he couldn’t look away.
Did Ken know his camera could point in that direction? Did he know Brady was watching him stroke himself in graceful, fluid motions as if performing for his lover? As if he had all the time in the world?
“Too slow,” Brady whispered. “Don’t tease me.”
His own fingers were clumsy and rough on his thick, sensitive shaft. He pulled it out and gripped it firmly in his fist. He wanted to be in that shower. Wanted to be standing behind Ken, or sitting on the bench against the wall and lowering that body onto his cock. Wanted to drive him wild until he was begging Brady to come. “Beg me, Tanaka.”
Ken arched his back as if he’d heard him, his fist shuttling faster up and down his length.
“That’s right. Fuck, that’s perfect.” Brady matched his rhythm, his eyes unblinking as he memorized every detail of the scene. He swore and shook his head when Ken’s movements slowed, but then he realized the man on the screen was reaching for a bottle of clear liquid. Lube?
Ken coated his fingers and reached around behind him, his lips parting on a mute gasp. Yes.
“You kinky fucking bastard. What are you up to?”
But Brady knew what was happening. Ken was pushing his fingers into his own ass, stretching it, craving something Brady wanted to give him. If they’d given in to each other last night, he could walk over there right now and take it. Lose himself. Lose control.
It’s tight isn’t it? That’s right, lean against the glass so you can go deeper. Get it ready for me. Get that ass ready.
Ken’s forehead and free hand were pressed against the wet glass as he rocked back into his fingers. Brady licked his lips and flicked his thumb over the tip of his shaft, shuddering. “Damn, I wish you would turn around and do that.”
Once again, as if responding to his demands, Ken slipped his fingers out and turned his back to the camera. Brady was so enthralled by his bitable cheeks he didn’t notice what was stuck to the bench until Ken approached it and drenched it with lube. He’d never been jealous of a dildo before, but when Ken got in position and lowered his ass onto it, when he closed his eyes and an expression of pure ecstasy transformed his face, Brady gritted his teeth and nearly bruised his cock with his white-knuckled grip.
That’s mine.
His thoughts were primitive. Aggressive. They didn’t make sense. He’d turned Ken away more than once and vowed never to give in to his desires. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to claim him. In some dark, hidden place in his mind, he already had.
When Ken held onto the bench with one hand, his erection with the other, and started to move, Brady lifted his hips off the couch, imagining his was the cock being ridden. “Oh yeah. Oh, that’s good. Give me that ass, Tanaka. Ride me.”
He couldn’t stop the commands from escaping his lips. It was his fantasy, and in it, he wanted Tanaka to hear him. Wanted him to do as he said. Brady was so turned on he could hardly breathe, but it wasn’t enough. Not for this need inside him. A need Ken had put there with his casual comments this morning.
“You want more than a quick ride too, don’t you? You want me. What if I gave you your damn noncon?” he growled at the monitor. “What if I ripped you off that fake dick and forced you to take every inch of me instead?”
He could see it playing out in his head in graphic detail. The camera catching everything as he surprised Ken in the shower. The shock, the struggle to get him to
the floor with one arm pinned behind his back and his ass in the air like an offering.
This was no gentle daydream. Nothing he would admit to without shame. It was animalistic and vulgar and hot as hell. And because it wasn’t real he didn’t go slow. Didn’t take the time for his lover to adjust. He was too far gone for that. Ken had been begging for it, and Brady would make him take it. Love it.
“That’s what you said, isn’t it? Make you love it when I fuck you into the floor until you can’t move. When I pound your ass until you scream. You want it. Look at how greedy you are. You want me fucking you so hard. Fuck…”
Brady watched Ken’s strong body pump up and down on the dildo as his hand stroked his cock. He was close. Brady was too, his body on fire, but he wanted them to come together. Needed it in a way he couldn’t explain.
He saw Ken’s mouth open on a silent shout and then he was with him. Lightning sparred with the live wires sizzling along his spine and his body stiffened. Jets of hot semen spurted on his stomach and chest and he heard himself mumbling Ken’s name with each shuddering wave of his release.
It took him a minute or two to get his breathing back under control. To remember where he was. When he did, all he could do was marvel at how hard he’d come. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an orgasm that intense. He’d never imagined he could get so turned on from that kind of twisted, dark… Jesus, there was something seriously wrong with him.
Brady stood and wove dizzily from the head rush, making his way to the bathroom with his hand still shaking on his shaft. He rinsed himself off in the sink, trembling as he splashed cold water on the back of his neck.
He could barely look at himself in the mirror. The things he’d thought, the things he’d said out loud. Orders he couldn’t believe he’d given. He’d gotten off on the idea of taking Ken without permission. Without holding back.
Brady didn’t indulge in aggressive passion or rough sex. His size made it impossible to consider. He was a brute. A clumsy ox. He’d started sprouting up at ten-years-old and he’d learned early on to be mindful of his strength, particularly in physical situations. Fighting and then, as he got older, sex.
His ex had been a rough-and-tumble leatherneck with muscle to spare and Brady had still never been able to truly let go with him. Brady wasn’t passionate enough, the angry Marine would tell him. He didn’t want it enough.
It was an argument Brady couldn’t win and he knew it…until he’d met Tanaka.
What just happened was passionate enough and he’d wanted it too much to resist. It had been intense and out of control, and it had only been a fantasy.
That shouldn’t happen in the real world. If he did this job, if he stayed, he had to resist this thing between them. He didn’t trust himself not to lose control around Ken and, despite Tanaka’s strength, he didn’t want to risk hurting him.
He dried off, pulled his shirt over his head and re-buttoned his jeans, thinking about that dildo. He hadn’t expected that. He’d thought Ken was exclusively a top. That because of his lifestyle he would have to be in charge in every way.
Did Doms even give blowjobs?
He obviously didn’t know shit about that bondage-sado-whatever the hell it was. All he knew was that the few times things between them had gotten heated, Ken had been the one pleasuring him. And Brady had loved it.
Stop thinking about his mouth. Brady turned off the monitors and closed the cabinet, grabbing his plate on the way back to the kitchen. He rinsed it off and was setting it on the drying rack when he saw his phone on the counter. The message light was pulsing.
It looked like it had been ringing all morning. He decided to listen to his calls as he cleaned the rest of the dishes. It was the least he could do to curb his guilt after breakfast and that shower.
He dialed his voicemail and turned on the speaker, smiling a little when he heard Owen’s voice.
New message. Today at nine a.m.
“Good morning. I have a headache and I have a feeling you do too. I just wanted to call and tell you about the long-winded, very public advice some drunk gave me last night at the pub. It’s a funny story. I’m already planning his payback. By the way, you’re going to get kicked out of Finn Club unless you can follow the rules. The first rule of Finn Club? You’re Irish, learn how to drink. Call me when you get this.”
New message. Today at nine-thirty-five a.m.
“Brady, it’s Owen again. I actually wanted to talk to you about what you said last night. In case you’re wondering? I’m not mad. In fact, you lit a fire under my ass and I love you for it. This morning I’ve been looking into your suggestion and I think I’ve found the answer, but I need to run it by our resident Cupid. Call me so I know you survived the Great Rumming of 2015. Oh and the second rule of Finn club is that tall is good, but too tall is just showing off. Cut it out.”
New message. Today at nine-fifty-one a.m.
“Hey Brady, Seamus here. Owen said you aren’t answering your phone. Call and I promise not to give you my lecture about sneaking behind the bar for another bottle after the bartender has cut you off. Oh, and my brother wants me to tell you that the third rule is not to talk about Finn Club, whatever that means. Help me out and call him please, he’s driving me crazy and I have to help Penny and Wes with their art projects.”
Brady laughed and shook his head, scrubbing the omelet pan.
New message. Today at ten-fifteen a.m.
“Owen again. Are you tied up right now? You went home with Tanaka so this is a legitimate question. If you are, use your safe word and when you can feel your dialing fingers, call me back. I mean it. I just bought plane tickets instead of pizza and you aren’t around to stop me. Who knows what I’ll do next?”
New message. Today at ten-forty-eight a.m.
“I’m officially worried. Call me in the next two hours or I’m dialing 911. Your brothers basically own that number, so the odds of them being the ones to catch you naked, hogtied and covered in peanut butter are pretty damn good. This is your last warning.”
Brady dried his hands and reached for the phone to text Owen, but there was one more message that had come almost immediately after Owen’s last call. He hoped his cousin hadn’t called Solomon. The last thing he needed was his older brother finding out about his drunken bar rant.
“This message is for Brady Finn from Calvin Grimes. I received an interesting email alert this morning. I’m not sure who sent it, but the subject heading was your name and the link attached led to a video of you in your family’s pub. Your speech was…stirring. And what you said made me think you might finally be ready to go on that date with me. Who wants to live like a monk, right? How about we start tonight with a drink at Tango’s and see what happens? No pressure. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“What the fuck?” Brady frowned. He was sure he’d rejected Stephen’s persistent yes-man enough times that he’d gotten the message. How had he, of all people, gotten his hands on that link?
“That was me.”
Ken’s voice made him drop his phone in the sink. Brady swore and picked it up again, drying it off on his jeans. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. What was you?”
Ken’s expression was not as relaxed as it should have been for a man who’d just starred in the hottest shower scene Brady had ever witnessed. “Lover boy’s call? I did that. I sent him the link before shutting the video down. I figured he’d see it as a sign and call you.”
It was hard to concentrate when all he could see was an image of Ken’s face mid-orgasm. He’d sent Cal the link on purpose? “You wanted him to ask me out?”
Ken moved closer. “And I want you to call him back and say yes.”
Brady knew he looked as confused as he felt. “No way in hell.”
Ken’s smile was subtle, the relaxing of his shoulders barely visible, but Brady noticed. He liked his answer. “I’m not happy about it either, but this is the job, Finn. Calvin Grimes is the job. At least, your part of it. He’s my way in, and the only way I have to get to him is through you.”
“Hell.” Brady looked at his phone and sighed. How had he found out about Cal’s crush? Had he hacked the suggestive email messages Grimes had sent him during his time working for the senator, or had Tasha spilled the beans? “Did you tell me this last night? Because I can’t see me getting drunk enough to think this was a good idea. Cal Grimes isn’t quite right, Tanaka. He’s like a terrier. If he bites down it could be hard to shake him off.”
“I might have skipped the finer points. You were drunk, remember? But don’t worry. I want you to meet him but I’m not planning on leaving you alone with him. Not for a minute.”
Brady raised one eyebrow. “He might not appreciate the extra company. He’s very…focused.” Disturbingly fixated was more accurate.
“He’ll never know I’m there. But you will.”
That sounded intriguing. “I think I’m recovered enough for you to fill me in now. Why is Grimes my part of the job? Who are you trying to get to? Should we call in Stephen? Are we after a senator?”
“So you’re staying?”
Brady sighed, knowing it was never a question. “For the moment. With Cal involved, I make no promises.”
“Then we’ll start planning after you call Owen. I think that would be—what—the fourth rule of Finn Club?”
He’d been listening at the door. Sneaky and kinky. But then, after today Brady didn’t have room to talk. “Smartass.”
He made the call.