Handcuffs and Lace: By the Balls

  By the Balls

  Handcuffs and Lace Series

  By Mia Watts

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  By the Balls

  Copyright © 2012 Mia Watts

  Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green

  Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com

  Published by Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32118

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-521-2

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic Release: June 2012

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Trick Montgomery wanted a look at the guy who was forcing him to blow his cover. After three long fucking years of intensive investigation, the Feds had to wreck it. For a bureau neophyte who was trying to earn his big-boy wings, and because they couldn’t fucking wait for Trick to complete his deep cover work to file a report. No, they had to pull him out early and get the information now.

  He tossed back the last of his Jack Daniels and propped heavily against the bar on his forearms. Trick turned his head to the left, checking out the cluster of suits at the stand-up table nearby. One of those guys was Nathan Rohn. With his luck, it would be the pretty one with the dark hair and lean body. Or the gangly, freckled redhead who lacked body control.

  The men had taken off their coats and pushed up their sleeves. It was the businessman equivalent of a woman letting her hair down. Trick liked muscular arms and thick male wrists, liked long strong fingers wrapped around beer mugs. Looking at the table, he grudgingly had to admit that the Feds had outdone themselves in recruiting attractive men.

  One of the guys came up to the bar. “Hey, Ned. Another round from the tap.”

  The dark-haired kid grinned widely and slapped down some bills. He looked around, leaning against the bar as he waited. His eyes met Trick’s, and for a moment, Trick was lost in the brown depths. Wide and prominent, they drew him in, tempting him to look longer, deeper.

  “Hey,” the kid said, his smile broadening when Trick didn’t balk from direct eye contact.

  “Hey.” Trick let his gaze drop appreciatively down the length of the man’s body, then nodded toward the cluster of suits the kid had detached himself from. “After work blow-off?”

  The younger man laughed, his gaze following the direction of Trick’s nod. “You could say that.”

  The way his eyes twinkled with humor meant the other man had picked up on his double meaning.

  “As far as circle jerks go, this one’s less than satisfying,” the Fed murmured before returning Trick’s watchful gaze.

  “That can be fixed,” Trick suggested. And maybe while he was fixing it, he could get a bead on which one was fucking with his career.

  “Can it?”

  “Ned,” Trick said without taking his eyes off the man-boy. “Make sure that table gets their round. Junior here has to use the bathroom.”

  Ned snorted, “You got it.”

  Trick stood, took a few steps backward toward the private hallway behind the bar. He lifted a brow. “You coming?”

  “Monty,” Ned called to Trick.

  Trick waited for Ned to continue. Instead, the bartender tossed him a small silver packet. Trick caught and examined it. A condom. He chuckled. Ned saluted him and returned to filling the last of the beer mugs.

  The kid’s attention lingered on the condom with a look of pure wickedness. “I’ll follow you back as soon as I deliver the drinks.”

  “No hard feelings if you change your mind, but…” Trick added, “don’t. Don’t change your mind.” He left the main bar and eased around to the dark corridor. It paid to know the barkeep, he thought with a feral grin.

  Out of sight from the customers, Trick folded his arms across his chest and stood against the exit used only in the event of a fire. A minute later, the Fed’s body blocked the low light.

  “Back here,” Trick called.

  The man approached. Trick liked the way he moved. It was a little bit swagger, a little bit lope. It lacked the confidence of a man who’d been in his skin awhile, but it was strong enough not to hesitate in meeting a stranger in a dark hallway. Since it approached him, it was the sexiest stride Trick had seen in a long while.

  When he was within arm reach, Trick grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “You sure about this? I don’t want you crying foul, later.”

  The younger man grinned. “Absolutely,” he said as he grabbed a handful of Trick’s crotch. “Shut up and fuck me.”

  Trick laughed. The kid had grit. He appreciated that. He flipped him to the wall as the Fed quickly undid his own belt and pants. Trick yanked them down to expose the full swell of supple ass glowing in the dimly lit corridor. He unzipped his own fly and quickly smoothed the rubber over his engorged cock, then spat several times into his hand to rub roughly on the Fed’s hole.

  “Do it,” the Fed breathed, his cheek shoved hard to the wall.

  “It’ll be rough.”

  “I’ll like it just fine. I’m not waiting all night. Fuck me now or miss the opportunity,” the younger man said.

  Trick needed more room. He pushed the restricting pants down the other man’s legs and kicked his feet apart, cop-style. He had the sudden misplaced urge to read him his Miranda rights while he shafted him. Trick bit back the impulse with a grim smile. He pushed his cock-tip in, pausing when the Fed shuddered at the invasion.

  “God, you’re huge,” the kid proclaimed.

  “Changing your mind?”

  “Hell no.”

  Trick took the man’s dick in his hand, gave him a few well-practiced yanks, and plowed his hips forward until Trick thought he’d take the kid to his limit.

  The Fed gasped. He seemed to like the size of Trick in him. The kid pushed back, trying to take more than Trick had given him.

  Trick growled against the man’s ear. “Gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll see stars.”

  Trick added a twist to each upward stroke of his hand on the other man’s cock, being as rough as he dared without hurting him. Then when the kid started to thrust his hips back, Trick began the urgent race to find orgasm. It was there, just in his reach. The other man added his own brand of enthusiasm, reaching around to pull Trick’s hips against him.

  Trick’s balls rocked, the swinging weight of them adding to the spiraling warm tingle that curled the base of his spine.

  “Make it fast,” the kid said.

  Trick understood. They didn’t need anyone coming to look for them. He bucked hard, slamming into the Fed’s tight hole. He nuzzled the man’s neck, inhaling his scent. The musty smell of office air and daylong clean skin wrapped an invisible hand around his senses. As effective as cupping his balls, his orgasm leaped nearer.

  The man stiffened, choking on a cry as cum sprayed over Trick’s hand. It was enough. Trick muffled his pleasure against the Fed’s neck, sucking desperately as hot jets shot into the condom, deep inside the man’s body. Trick jerked a few more times.

  “More satisfying than an after work beer?” Trick asked roughly.

  The Fed laughed through heavy breaths. “I’d take you back to my place for more, but I don’t take strangers home.”


  “Nah, you just let them fuck you in public places.” Trick held the condom when he withdrew and slapped the tight ass he’d just claimed.

  The man turned, tucking himself away and righting his clothes. “Do you come here often?”

  Now the kid was nervous? “All the time until recently. Does that pickup line work for you?”

  The Fed laughed. “First time using it.”

  Trick smiled widely. He closed his fly. The stood close enough that he knew the man could see the dim glow of teeth. “I wouldn’t try using it again. Fuck me was far more effective.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  The Fed leaned in like he meant to kiss Trick. Trick dodged.

  “Never kiss a convenience fuck,” Trick told him. “It makes you look inexperienced.”

  The other man lifted his chin stubbornly. Or was it determination that Trick saw in the motion?

  “I’m surprised you went for this,” Trick admitted. “You’re the kind of guy that looks like forever.”

  “And you’re the kind of guy that looks like he’d rather eat pussy,” the kid shot back.

  Trick grinned again. “I guess I am something of a bear.”

  “I didn’t think bears migrated this far south.”

  Trick threw back his head with a hearty laugh. “Points to the suit with a sense of humor.”

  The kid pushed away. “If I see you in the bar again, do I meet you in the private hallway?”

  “Yeah,” Trick murmured. “Yeah, you do.”

  “Even though you think I’m a forever kind of guy?”

  Trick shifted his weight. Guys that were prone to relationships were the kind of men he generally stayed away from. This one felt different. This one left him with a sense of warmth behind his sternum that he hadn’t felt in a while.

  “Even then,” Trick agreed.

  Now the Fed laughed. His was lighthearted and almost mocking. “I’m a back-hall fuck, Monty. You don’t find your forever man in a seedy city bar. You find STDs. You find release, but you don’t find relationship material.” He walked backward. “If I see you here again, I’d fuck you. I’d even enjoy it, but I wouldn’t take you home to mama.”

  Trick snorted, feeling a weird sense of pride for the kid who handled himself like a man. “You got it, kid. Happy to oblige your ass any time.”

  “Nathan. The name’s Nathan Rohn,” he tossed back as he exited the corridor.

  Trick winced. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Chapter One

  “That’s the guy?” Nathan Rohn asked his mentor dubiously. “That’s Trick Montgomery?”

  “Yep, that’s the one,” Donny Platten answered. He said it on an inhale, like he was stretching or about to belch. Probably the latter given his mentor’s passion for breakfast chilidogs.

  Nathan watched the thug of a man as he walked by. No, walking isn’t what he did. Strut, bulldoze, tackle-block maybe, but not walk. The man took up too much space to do something as mundane as walking.

  It was Monty. Monty as in Montgomery. Cold, sick dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. Eight nights ago, in the bar half a mile from here, Nathan had taken this man’s cock in his ass, and hadn’t been able to forget it. Maybe Monty had been right. He really was a forever kind of guy, built on family and relationships and always doing what was expected of him. Always being the good guy who didn’t take risks.

  Except that night in the bar. And it had been a risk. The man who looked like he was the papa bear of biker gangs and hotness had given him that look in a dimly lit bar, and it had been all Nathan needed to get an immediate hard-on. He’d wanted Monty instantly. So when Monty had suggested a back-hall fuck, it had been as simple as saying yes.

  Just watching that tight ass walk away from him made Nathan want to say ‘yes’ all over again. In a hallway, in an alley, or even in the deli the man was about to enter.

  Of all the guys to have to bust and bring in, it had to be this one. Nathan was fucked. Again.

  He sighed with exasperation. “That guy?”

  “You know him?” Donny, his partner asked.

  “I’ve seen him before. He looks like a brute.”

  “He is. To bring him in, you’ll have to do exactly what I say.”

  Nathan promised he would with a wordless affirmative grunt.

  Trick Montgomery shoved his hands in his front jeans pockets, almost broadening the stretch of his shoulders beneath his t-shirt, if that was possible. Scruffy stubble covered the lower half of his face and neck as though iron filaments had been attracted to his ruggedness the same way Nathan’s eyes were.

  “And I have to go in and retrieve him alone,” Nathan trailed off. He’d be lucky if Trick didn’t laugh at him and tell him to get his forever-self gone. “You’re sure you want me to go in there alone?”

  “I do. Uncle Sam does. The whole fucking FBI division does. We’re taking this sonofabitch down, and you’re the case lead on this,” Donny muttered under his breath even though they were sitting in a closed car. The man moved passed them for the restaurant entrance.

  “So what’s the exact plan?”

  Donny snorted. “We go in. We get him. We take him to Quantico for questioning. That there,” he said, nodding toward the closing front door of the restaurant, “is the ace in the hole for this branch of the mob. When we get him, we get the boss. We’ll hoof it to Quantico by air once they’re on our tails.”

  Nathan nodded. He understood the reasoning, but he still thought it was a lame-ass idea. “They’ll follow and flush themselves out.”

  “It’s all about the leads and the proof, boy-o,” Donny agreed.

  “He’s a big dude,” Nathan said, stating the obvious. His ass twitched at exactly how big of a dude he was. His body remembered everything.

  “That’s why we carry guns.” Donny held up a pair of shiny cuffs. “And today we get to use these too.”

  “I think we need to have the SWAT team in our back pocket to nab this guy. He’s huge.”

  “They all go down with a single bullet when necessary. We’ll get him,” Donny assured. “You go in and flush him out. I’ll be waiting outside the door to cuff him. Then we get in the car and drive pedal-to-the-metal until we reach the airfield.”

  “I thought we wanted them to follow.”

  “Oh, they will. You don’t need to give them directions to find us once they know what vehicle we’re driving. It’ll be getting to the helicopter before they catch up that will be the toughest part.”

  Nathan took a fortifying breath. It didn’t help. This was the first time he’d had to bring someone in openly, and it wasn’t like this was a minor case. It was big with big targets and a big payoff and just—big. And it was a guy he’d had nasty bar-sex with and couldn’t seem to forget.

  His nerves were shot, but if he pulled this off, he’d have a chance of elevating his status a little. Being an FBI agent was hardly plush. Being a seasoned one, well, that earned you credibility points when the next sector newbie joined the ranks. Taking down a crime syndicate was big-time stuff. Career-making stuff. Balking wasn’t even in the cards.

  He pushed open the car and headed for the restaurant. Bob’s Deli was open for business. A few civilians wandered in and out, but it wasn’t yet crowded by the lunch rush. The hulk had chosen a booth in the back corner where he sipped a mug of something hot.

  There were details he saw in the light of day, that he hadn’t noticed in the bar. For a few hopeful moments, he prayed he was wrong about them being the same man. Salt and pepper hair buzzed close to his skull looked about the same length as the stubble on his jaw. His hairline was solid and full and as he looked up, Nathan was struck by the angles of the other man’s face. It wasn’t pretty. He didn’t have the kind of face that drew you in with its handsomeness, but it was powerful.

  Trick’s mug, since that’s the only definition that seemed to fit, had a thick-bridged nose that looked a little off-center. It had met a well-aimed punch in its history. His l
ips, though wide and prominent, were hard edged. The top bowed, but was non-existent next to the thicker bottom curve.

  The man was solid muscle from his jaw and wide neck, to the thick builder shoulders and arms straining through the thin cotton shirt he wore. Tattoos scrolled from underneath the edge of both sleeves in harsh tribal spikes and swirls. One arm was decorated down the forearm where the tattoo morphed into a taloned claw extending down each finger at the back of his hand. That hand clutched a coffee cup in its beefy grip and sent a foreboding shiver down Nathan’s spine.

  Hope died. It was definitely the same man, and his body recognized him immediately.

  The target’s gaze snagged on Nathan’s. Sharp intelligence almost pinned Nathan to the spot as he struggled with sudden intimidation in the face of his career. Trick froze. Every muscle tightened as though he were arm wrestling and had paused mid-battle. He remembered. Trick remembered who Nathan was and his lips pressed a firm line as he slowly rose to his feet.

  Nathan made his feet work. His stomach tangled in knots as both his identity and his purpose were about to come head to head. He moved to the back table, flashing his badge. “I suggest you follow me unless you want everyone in here to know you’re talking to a Fed,” he said tersely.

  As Trick Montgomery reached his full height to tower over Nathan, he began to second-guess his approach. The man looked tight and pissed. “A threat, little man? Or are you that eager for a second round?”

  Nathan tried to shrug nonchalantly, but his insides were quaking. He decided to ignore the sexual dig. “Even the suggestion that you’re talking to a Fed wouldn’t work well in your line of work.”

  Trick’s brows rose, angling them down toward the top of his nose.

  If Nathan could risk backing out the way he’d come, he would have at this point.

  Trick jerked his head toward the side door.