by SE Jakes
"Good thing we're alone. Because I wouldn't be stopping even if we had an audience," Brogan warned, then leaned in to kiss him.
Aleks wound himself around Brogan, wondering why he didn't need the same level of pain he usually did to deal with sex.
Because Brogan.
Yes, the answer was the two-hundred-plus-pound man on top of him, grinding their pelvises together in a rhythm that made Aleks want to come in his pants like he was a kid.
"Brogan," he heard himself whisper, had no idea what he would've said if Brogan hadn't yanked both their shorts down and slapped their cocks together.
"Yes, baby. Call my name."
"Christ…"
"Close, but I'll take it." Brogan smiled, and why did the guy have to look like a fucking angel?
Wasn't his life fucked enough?
He hadn't asked for rescuing. He'd learned a long time ago that rescuing himself was the best way out.
Rescuing others? He'd tried.
Failed.
What makes you think Brogan needs saving? And if he does, what makes you think you could save Brogan?
He didn't have an answer for any of that. He just knew he couldn't not try.
And through all of that thought, Brogan held him down, fucked him, refused to break eye contact, and no matter how badly Aleks wanted to, he couldn't look away. Feelings flooded him and he knew he'd let all of this go too far. There was no turning back.
The problem was he didn't know which direction forward actually was.
"Are you going back to X anytime soon?" Brogan asked as they lay on the mat, unable, unwilling to move or get dressed.
Aleks stared at Brogan. "Do I need to?"
Brogan's smile alone could break him. "You already know where I live."
Aleks studied him. "I imagine you're pretty full up."
"On dates? Casual sex? Subs?" Brogan shook his head. "Ass is everywhere. But I've been interested in you for a long time. And just a taste? It only whet my appetite for more. I enjoyed the fantasy but the real thing? I'm enjoying it a hell of a lot more."
Brogan's words were more effective than a slam to the solar plexus—surprisingly painful and a just-good-enough kind of "hurts so good" hurt to make Aleks realize that he'd made the right decision.
Chapter Nine
Aleks monitored Brogan's accounts as well as his own. And as much as he'd been expecting Brogan to run a background check on him at some point, when he saw that it had been done, he lost it.
The check hadn't caught any of Aleks's buried accounts—he'd set it up purposely that way. What Brogan's people found was exactly what Aleks wanted them to see. Nothing more, nothing less.
It changed nothing. Brogan was still at risk because of Harry. Aleks's plan hadn't changed. But something about Brogan checking up on him like he was a fucking street urchin brought out something dark and ugly inside him. Something he couldn't hold back or keep buried.
Here he was, trying to figure out if he needed to keep himself safe from Brogan or just keep Brogan safe, and Brogan was monitoring his precious money…as his cousin seemed to be continually ripping him off.
It didn't matter that Brogan might not know that. Because how could Brogan not know what his cousin was?
Instead of calling first, he took a chance that Brogan would be home. Sure enough, security rang Brogan at the same time they waved Aleks up with no problem.
I guess they know the results of the background check too.
By the time the elevator reached the penthouse, Aleks knew two things for sure: he shouldn't have come here this angry, and there was no going back.
When the doors opened, Brogan was rounding the corner from his bedroom, wearing sweats and a T-shirt and a half smile. "Hey—"
"I hear I passed the background test," Aleks said bluntly, holding a palm against the elevator door.
Brogan frowned. "It's standard operating procedure."
Aleks laughed sharply, a bitter sound that made Brogan wince. "You think I'm after your money."
"That's not it."
"Of course it is." Aleks manhandled him up against the wall. "I don't need your goddamned money."
"I know that."
"No, you don't. You don't get it. I don't need your goddamned money because I've got a fucking fortune of my own." Brogan's face—the surprise—convinced Aleks he knew nothing. "That's right, babe. Could buy my own building and slap my name on it if I wanted to. Guess maybe I should be running a security check on you."
"Are you done making me feel like shit?" Brogan was furious, as furious as Aleks had been moments earlier, but it wasn't as satisfying as he'd thought. "Get the fuck out."
Yeah, Brogan had been wrong but Aleks had blindsided him. Pushed him way too far. A psychologist would have a field day saying that Aleks had done it on purpose, driven Brogan away, separated himself from Brogan so Aleks could do what needed to be done, guilt-free.
Good job, Aleks. Playing field's all clear…and you're all alone. Again.
Con stared at him, probably because Aleks all but stormed into work the next morning, grunting at hellos. Becca wisely took off for the back, leaving him alone with Quinn and Con.
"You all right, Aleks?" Quinn asked.
"No."
Con narrowed his eyes. "Brogan?"
"It's over," Aleks said shortly.
Con sighed. "Wait, you broke up? Great. Now we'll lose the lease on the place." Aleks didn't answer him, but he had to admit that Con was playing his part to a T, not giving away a hint that they were working together. "Kid, that's why you don't shit where you eat."
"Con, he's going to throw you through a wall if you keep going," Quinn warned. "If you want it rough, come upstairs."
Con stared at Aleks, then raised his brows and looked at Quinn. "Sounds good to me."
For the next several days, Aleks steered clear of Con because he didn't want to have to deal with any of it. He continued checking to make sure no one ran any security or credit checks on his secret accounts. Either Brogan's PI was the easiest guy in the world to fool or Brogan hadn't wanted him to dig very hard.
Dammit, he hadn't expected to miss Brogan as much as he did. And for the first time, that feeling overrode the intense need for vengeance.
The need was still there but the all-consuming aspects of it were just fucking crushed and buried by his unrelenting thoughts of Brogan.
So get him back.
"Or get over him," he ground out to himself.
Harry was still out of the country. Aleks couldn't risk a trip to kill him, was still playing the waiting game. Con was working on the lists.
And you're sitting here like a bitch.
He found himself at Club X. He'd spotted Brogan's car, and when he didn't see Brogan at the bar, the bartender took pity on him—or maybe the guy was a true masochist himself—because he told Aleks, "Brogan's in room three. With someone."
With someone.
Brogan had probably been with other someones during the time he'd been fucking Aleks. They weren't attached at the hip, never discussed monogamy.
Christ, Aleks wanted to shoot himself for even thinking about that shit. How turned around was he?
Why the hell was he so worked up?
His urge to walk out of the club was strong. The urge to break down the door of room three?
Stronger.
But the damned door wasn't even locked, so he didn't have to kick it in, which meant the anger had no edge off it when he walked in and saw Brogan whipping the sub who was shackled to the Saint Andrew's Cross.
The sub was blindfolded, but his head still whipped toward Aleks's direction, the same way Brogan's did.
Aleks was going to say something like, "Guess you're not wasting any time," but something stopped him. Because two could play at this game, and if nothing else, Aleks had mastered strategy. "Sorry, man. Wrong room. I was looking for—"
"Me." The big, bald, muscled Dom from the first night Aleks had met Brogan at the bar came up behind him l
ike a godsend.
And he didn't want to do this with the Dom, but he recognized the save and let the bigger man lead him, with a hand on the back of Aleks's neck, to a room down the hall.
When he closed the door behind Aleks, he said, "Hope I didn't overstep. I just figured you might need help saving face. I'm Callum."
"Aleks. And yeah, I did. Thanks." Aleks stared at him. He was handsome, and at any other time he'd be stripping and fucking without a second though. What the fuck had Brogan done to him? Because Aleks had never had this problem before, had never dealt with this bonding shit. "Christ, this sucks."
Callum laughed.
"Shit, didn't mean you," Aleks told him quickly.
"I know." He looked toward the door. "I don't think your guy's going to stay away too long."
Aleks barely had time to say, "He's not my guy," when Callum closed in on him, pressing him to the wall. The door slammed open and Callum murmured, "Make it look good," before he brought his mouth down on Aleks's.
"Get the fuck off him," Aleks heard Brogan say, his tone even and calm but the undercurrent of anger unmistakable.
"Why's that?" Callum asked.
"He's mine."
At Brogan's words, Aleks's gut tightened in a funny way.
The man leaning against him stayed in place but looked over his shoulder at Brogan. "Funny, but you seemed too busy for him a few minutes ago."
"I wasn't touching the guy I was with."
"Right. Because whipping someone's definitely not intimate at all." He turned back to assess Aleks, then mouthed, "You okay?"
Aleks nodded. Callum pushed away and turned to Brogan. "If he's really yours, you owe him a hell of an apology."
"Right," Brogan said dryly.
Callum turned to wink at Aleks before he left, shutting the door behind him. Aleks remained against the wall, trying to look bored when really his heart was racing. "Nice touch with the 'he's mine' crap. I'm betting you get a lot of ass that way."
Brogan didn't say anything, continued walking until he was inches from Aleks.
Aleks managed, "Don't you have someone you've got to get back to?" as Brogan put his palms against the wall on each side of Aleks's shoulders.
"Why are you here, Aleks?" Brogan asked finally.
Yes, why, Aleks? He had a few options—he could tell Brogan to fuck off, because really, Aleks had every fucking right to be mad as hell at him. He could punch the guy. Or he could lean in and kiss him.
He leaned in. Brogan met him halfway.
Option C for the win. The rest of it melted away as Brogan's tongue stroked his. Aleks groaned into his mouth as Brogan's body made contact, pressed his. Aleks wrapped his leg around Brogan, trying to pull him close…impossibly closer.
"Fuck, I missed you," Brogan murmured against his mouth. "I'm—"
"Shut up," Aleks told him, pulling away, not wanting Brogan to apologize for trying to keep himself safe. Aleks should be doing everything in his power to ensure the same. Because for the first time, the thought occurred to him that if Harry didn't value human lives…why would Aleks think he'd treat his cousin any differently? Especially when it came to the family fortune.
Chapter Ten
After Aleks told him to "Shut up," Brogan sucked on the side of his neck, leaving a hot, red swollen spot, and then he did it twice more, needing to mark this man as his, wanted to mark every single open spot of skin he could.
Wanted to brand this man as his.
In his mind, Aleks already was. Aleks hadn't admitted it, but the fact that he'd come back and broken into Brogan's session? That spoke volumes.
He walked Aleks backward toward the bed, pushed him down onto it and hovered over him, lowering himself slowly…planning.
Aleks's cock prodded his.
"You and your Dom friend—did you enjoy him kissing you?" He twisted Aleks's nipples, watching Aleks squirm with the mix of pleasure and pain.
"No," Aleks panted as Brogan leaned in and alternately bit and blew on one nipple, then the other. "No!"
"You're sure?" Brogan sucked a nipple hard, pleasuring it as he twisted the other one.
"Yes."
He murmured in Aleks's ear, "Why not?"
After the briefest of pauses, as if he was wrestling with his own thoughts, Aleks burst out with, "Because he wasn't you."
"Good answer, baby. That will get you well fucked tonight."
"Thank fuck," Aleks moaned.
Brogan stripped down and lay on the bed, head on the pillows. Then he handed Aleks a condom. "Put this on me."
Aleks took the condom and rolled it onto Brogan's cock, slowly, a total tease. Brogan bared his teeth but didn't complain.
"Want to fuck you," he said instead.
"Good," Aleks muttered.
He lowered himself onto Brogan's cock slowly and Brogan watched him. When he was buried to the hilt, they both stayed still for a long moment.
Aleks swallowed hard, and then he began to move. "Gonna make it up to you."
"Not…arguing," Brogan managed. Watching Aleks take his cock, riding him, controlling the fuck and making Brogan's head spin…it was the best kind of apology he'd ever had.
Aleks dipped forward, grabbed Brogan's hair and slammed their mouths together, tonguing, tasting. Devouring.
Brogan shuddered, jerked his hips up and groaned. Cursed. His face flushed, his eyes glassed over. He was the one being fucked, but the way Aleks rode him, fast and hard, it was questionable as to who was fucking who. "Faster, baby."
"Still pretending you're in charge?" Aleks panted.
"You know I am." He wound his hand around Aleks's cock and squeezed hard. "You just like my punishments."
Aleks couldn't deny the truth in Brogan's words, so he didn't bother to try. Brogan's eyes were as heady-lidded as Aleks's. Aleks tried to hold on, to retain the control, but his thrusts became erratic as the pleasure intensified, his moans breathless pants as Brogan pulsed inside him, hot and hard. There was no room for anything else between them…nothing but Aleks's lies.
He shoved that out of his mind as he came.
"You didn't put me on the cross," Aleks murmured in the aftermath. He'd reluctantly pulled away from Brogan, took off and tied the condom and then lay down with his cheek against Brogan's chest. Something Brogan hadn't expected but definitely wasn't complaining about.
But now, Aleks lifted his face, his chin balancing on Brogan's chest as Brogan gazed up at his face. "Because you'd hate it."
"How can you know that?"
"Am I right?" he asked and Aleks's eye roll told him he was. "It's more exciting for you to try to hold yourself in place—or have me try to do it. Either way, you get to move. To moan. Tying you up isn't your game. It's not something I'm willing to push to prove dominance."
Aleks gave him a small grin. "Thanks." He lay back down but shifted off to the side a bit so Brogan could stretch.
And with Aleks lying on his side facing him, Brogan traced the tattoos that ran the length of Aleks's right arm, down to the wrist. There was also a tattoo on the back of his hand as well, a phoenix, so finely done. "Did that hurt?"
"They all hurt," Aleks said. "That's part of the draw."
Yes, Brogan could see that. "Which one's your first?"
Aleks seemed to stiffen for a second, like he didn't want to go there, but then he said, "The phoenix."
"Wow. I thought a lot of places refuse to do hands."
"They do. A lot of them won't do hands if it's a first tattoo."
"I guess you convinced someone," Brogan said, tracing the wings with his forefinger.
"Well, I can be pretty damned convincing when I need to be." Especially at eighteen, fresh out of a cage and killing three men. Aleks had looked and acted every bit the wild man he'd become inside. He and Vann stayed together for three months, traveling through the U.S., keeping one step ahead of anyone who might be trailing them. Vann drank and fucked and fought and Aleks did the same, except he'd become drawn to the idea of tattoos. Espe
cially in Russian culture, tattoos had a hell of a lot of meaning. If you knew what to look for, it would take a single glance to know how long someone had been in prison, for what and what his role was in the Russian mafia.
Aleks stumbled upon an old-school Russian tattoo artist in Nevada, of all places, and he'd gone in and perused the photo albums late one night when he hadn't felt like fighting or fucking or drinking.
"You just going to sit on that couch or are you going to book something?" the old man asked, with just enough of a Russian accent for Aleks to detect.
"Book something," Aleks told him in perfect Russian and watched the man's eyes widen.
After a while, Aleks admitted his family ties, although not the name of his family. There were other ways to prove legitimacy, Aleks had learned early on, and this man Peter knew how to interpret them.
"So did the guy who did this become your mentor?" Brogan asked, pulling him out of his reverie.
That's when Aleks and Vann decided to part ways. Vann was prepping for the military and Aleks couldn't take any more of someone telling him what to do. So when Peter offered to mentor him, Aleks jumped at the chance. "I wasn't sure I'd like it. I didn't think I'd be good at it."
"Why not?"
"You have to be still." After being forced into a confined space for so long, being still was hard for Aleks. In the end, he had to admit the tattooing had been the best thing for that. It soothed him, smoothed out the rough places inside. And it gave him a trade that changed people.
It certainly had changed him.
In the end, he'd told Peter about the deathmatches. Peter hadn't seemed surprised, and if he hadn't been on his deathbed, Aleks might've worried that he'd been made and turned in.
He hadn't needed to. Peter left him the shop, not knowing how much money Aleks actually had access to, but he'd stayed in Nevada for another year after Peter passed, out of respect.
Brogan was watching him carefully, so Aleks turned his question back to him. "How come you've got none? No one escapes the military without something."