Handcuffs and Lace: By the Balls

by Mia Watts

  “This is a bad idea,” Nathan muttered to himself.

  Trick tried not to smile when the cuffs unhitched on one wrist.

  “Make it quick and don’t try anything,” Nathan warned.

  Trick turned away, aiming toward the road. He stole a sidelong glance at the agent. There was a touch of pink across his cheeks and coloring the tip of his ears.

  When he was done and tucked away, Trick caught his eye. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t get to thank me,” he snapped. “You kill people and break legs for a living. The last thing I want is gratitude from a criminal.”

  “Or, you’re welcome works nicely,” Trick suggested lightly.

  He wasn’t accustomed to levity. People looked at him and saw muscle and menace. They didn’t look to him for the easy joke. Somewhere along the way, Nathan had stolen his shtick. Not cool. So not cool. And why? Because he was fucking adorable, and Trick was having fun messing with the kid’s head.

  He thought about snapping his own cuff back into place to disarm Nathan, but the kid had a lesson to learn if he wanted to grow up to be a big-boy agent one day.

  Chapter Three

  Nathan didn’t see the move that had him pinned against the tree a split second later. Trick knocked the gun from his hands. One moment Nathan had it aimed at his captive, and the next, his hands were empty and his wrists were pinned above his head. Trick’s nose hovered an inch above his.

  The other man’s chest pushed against his own, warm and unyielding. Trick should have been unappealing for all his hard angles and rough hewn features, but he wasn’t. Trick compelled him to look deep into his blue eyes. They were dark as midnight and just as haunting with the hint of secrets just below their surface. And all those secrets reminded him of sex.

  Nathan should’ve looked away. He should’ve, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stand there, feeling the warmth of this other man invade his senses. His breath, stale yet sweet fanned across Nathan’s lips. It was the wrong thing to think about because it drew Nathan’s attention to that incongruous mouth. The sleekly curved, nearly non-existent upper lip over the full, square-ish bottom one intrigued him. What would it feel like to kiss a mouth like his? Soft? Hard? Would he feel the upper lip at all, or would there be nothing but stubble rasping across Nathan’s mouth?

  Nathan blinked. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. Trick was a suspect. A dangerous suspect who currently had him disarmed and pinned to a tree. Who could snap him like a twig if he decided to.

  Trick’s eyes narrowed speculatively, his brow naturally pulling together over the bridge of his nose. That midnight gaze seemed to take in everything, stripping Nathan of any pretense he might have tried to hide behind.

  Trick’s smile slid like oil across his face as his gaze dropped to Nathan’s lips in return. This close, there was no hiding from the truth. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Nathan was attracted to him. And Trick knew it.

  “Just a suggestion, but never free your suspect. Not for anything. Not even a piss.” Trick’s harsh whisper rasped like sex along Nathan’s nerve endings. The tone had nothing to do with the words. One that dripped of hot promises while jarring him with crudeness.

  “Got it,” Nathan choked out.

  Trick held him there a moment longer, then released his grip. He didn’t step away though. He held his position, blocking Nathan from moving unless he shoved passed.

  “I know what you’re doing.” Nathan pressed his lips together, trying to get a grip on his self-disgust.

  Trick grinned. “Do you?” He backed off, dropping to sit on the ground. He leaned back against the tree next to where Nathan stood.

  “You’re trying to unnerve me. Trying to get under my skin and distract me.”

  “I’m bored, and this mission you’re on looks like it’s going to pot. I can also think of another, better way to spend our time. Something we do very well together.”

  Nathan blushed. “They’re coming with a car. When they do, we’ll be back on track.”

  “Unless you have a mole, and he finds you too. I don’t suppose you have a backup plan?”

  “There’s no mole, and I don’t need a backup plan.”

  Trick snorted. “I’m trying to decide if you actually believe that, or if you’re trying to keep me in the dark about your next steps.”

  “Pardon me if I don’t clarify.”

  Trick pulled his knees to his chest. The handcuffs dangled from his wrist like unimportant jewelry. The man looked strangely calm, like a predator waiting to surprise his prey. His lids drooped to half-mast and a casual smile curved his fuller bottom lip into something resembling soft.

  Nathan couldn’t place what it was about the man that drew him. Trick didn’t look like the kind of man he usually went for. Trick Montgomery looked like a carpenter who was great with his hands but had damaged his skin from exposure to the sun, then decided to take up weight lifting in his free time.

  He was rough, lined, hard and lacked anything that could be mistaken for softness. Yet the sheer power of the man made Nathan’s heart speed up. His relaxed attitude was that of a man who was comfortable in his own skin, who knew himself and his boundaries well. And damn it if the confidence in his stride didn’t promise that he was as amazing in bed as he was in a bar.

  Trick Montgomery was also scary as fuck. He wasn’t the kind of guy you wanted to run into when you were having a bad day. No, he was the kind of guy who caused bad days. Trick Montgomery used danger and sex appeal, power and pain. If Nathan didn’t redirect his thoughts, and fast, there’d be no hiding the evidence of exactly how much all those traits appealed to him. As though Trick didn’t already know.

  Donny should be here. Donny wouldn’t get distracted by a hard-edged mob guy in a pair of low-slung, well-worn jeans. Or an amazing ass.

  Nathan retrieved his gun. He watched the road, keeping his charge in his peripheral vision. Nothing. The pilot hadn’t stirred. The weather was warm, and he’d brought him to the shade. For now, while he had a gun trained on the suspect, it was the best Nathan could do for him.

  “What about shock? We should cover him,” Trick suggested, seeming to follow Nathan’s line of thought.

  “With what?” Nathan countered. “Did you pack an emergency blanket? Because I didn’t.”

  “Whatever, he’s screwed,” Trick said.

  “Do you show that same sensitivity when you off someone for the mob?”

  A wry smile curled Trick’s lips.

  “What, no comment?” Nathan snapped. “You were trying to be buddy-buddy two seconds ago, but the minute we discuss the truth about what you do, you clam up?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s okay, though. I forgive you.” Trick shrugged and closed his eyes.

  “Forgive me? I didn’t ask for your forgiveness. Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself until we get to Quantico?” Yeah, stay mad, Nathan told himself. If he stayed mad, he couldn’t think about how fucking unprofessional he was for having wanted to kiss the damn suspect moments ago. He didn’t deserve the badge, he thought.

  “I could,” Trick murmured tiredly. “But then I couldn’t tell you that you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

  Nathan sputtered, not sure what to say but positive Trick was using Nathan’s attraction as another tactic to throw him off his game.

  “Yeah, like that,” Trick said and yawned. He blinked, meeting Nathan’s gaze again with a steady one of his own. “Stop freaking out. You know you look good. Guys like you don’t gel their hair and pout their lips when they have esteem issues.”

  “You’re a jackass.”

  “Not really. I told you, I’m a nice guy once you get to know me,” Trick reminded.

  “It’s not going to work,” Nathan told him.

  “What’s not going to work?”

  “Quiet. No more talking until the relief comes.” Nathan moved farther away and sat. He kept his gun trained on him just in case the big guy got any
ideas about getting away.

  He hoped the car arrived soon. Thirty minutes had never felt so long.

  * * * *

  Five hours later, they were heading toward Quantico. Trick had reclipped the open cuff to the front passenger door handle before Nathan or the other agent could reach for them. Nathan seemed to think Trick had decided to be obedient under the awesome power of the FBI. The truth was simpler. It was the best way Trick knew to keep his hands off the sexy suit behind the wheel.

  He supposed it helped that the backup agent was sawing logs in the back seat. Rattling throat calls had a way of killing a mood. Thank God.

  Already the day had grown long. He’d refrained from asking Nathan any further questions and as the hours tracked by, the silence had seemed to ease the tension between them. The kid had rolled down the windows making conversation nearly impossible.

  Trick hoped whatever powers had kept them from crashing in the chopper would keep him from reaching in the darkness for the agent later tonight. Nothing about Nathan intimidated him. Not the gun, not the cuffs, certainly not the thick eyelashes that lined those coffee-colored depths. Nothing. Essentially, he realized, nothing kept him from coming on to the man except possibly the distress on Nathan’s face when he gave in. And he would give in, of that Trick had no doubts.

  Trick depressed the window button until the glass had lifted all the way up. “How long have you been in the bureau?” Trick began.

  Nathan shot him a sideways glance, but returned his attention to the road without saying a word.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say two years. Including the twenty weeks of training. I bet your parents are proud.”

  A muscled ticked in Nathan’s jaw.

  “I’d also bet money you’re the youngest in your family. Am I right?” Trick asked. He watched Nathan’s profile, but he kept a stony silence. “I have a brother. He’s about your age. Twenty seven. He works at a desk nine-to-five.”

  Trick settled back against the seat. If Nathan wasn’t going to contribute, then this would just have to be a one way conversation.

  “He’s blond like me.” Trick ran a hand over his peppery bristled head.

  Nathan snorted. Trick grinned with the evidence that Nathan was listening despite his efforts to the contrary. Sinking lower into a slouch, he settled in for as long a drive as it would take to get there. Or as long a drive as it would take before someone needed a break.

  “Yeah, he’s got a head full of hair, and he’s big like me. The ladies love him, but he’s not interested. That’s the kind of news that just about killed my mom,” Trick continued.

  The more he told Nathan, the more the kid would begin to connect with him. Trick needed his trust when it came time to prove who he really was. And telling Nathan about himself seemed the most natural thing in the world to do.

  “So,” Trick said through a yawn. “Unless science comes up with a few advancements, Mom won’t be getting any grandkids.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Nathan shift in his seat. He rolled up his window too, trapping the road sounds out and the snoring in.

  “You’d like him. Well, maybe not. He’s a bit like me, but he’d sure like you. He likes men like you—suited and lean. Pretty. No one could ever accuse the Montgomery boys of being pretty.” Trick laughed. He rolled his head to the side, looking at Nathan with what he hoped was a friendly expression.

  “What about you?” Trick asked again. “What’s your family like?”

  There was a lift across Nathan’s shoulders, as though he was about to relent and start talking. A sharp snort from the back seat jarred them both, and Nathan reclaimed his distance.

  “Hey,” Trick said, reaching across the distance to nudge Nathan’s knee. “I’m in your custody, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.”

  “It means exactly that.”

  “Okay, don’t talk. But feel free to make any sounds you want,” Trick continued slyly.

  Chapter Four

  He stroked the back of his fingers up the side of Nathan’s thigh. Nathan tensed as every nerve ending focused on the progression of his touch. More out of alarm to make it stop than from conscious thought, he swatted a hand downward and grabbed the man’s beefy wrist.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Nathan looked into the rearview mirror. Agent diNossi slept on, but the last thing he wanted was for him to wake up to find their suspect fondling him as he drove. He’d never get promoted.

  “Not fucking. Touching,” Trick corrected.

  “Quit it. I can use diNossi’s cuffs if necessary.”

  “Have you ever been cuffed and fucked out of your mind, Agent Rohn?”

  God. Nathan’s cock began to fill, and a riot of butterflies set off in his middle. The mental picture of being stripped down and cuffed helplessly while Trick fucked him into unconsciousness made his brain spin wildly. His thighs tingled, and he knew he was in trouble.

  “I think you’d like that,” Trick said as though the image amused him.

  Nathan knew from training that a suspect would say anything he needed in order to throw an agent off his concentration. Trick already knew Nathan was gay and interested because of what had happened in the bar. Now Trick was using it to his advantage by dropping hints and suggestions that they could revisit that night.

  Nathan pushed Trick’s hand away from him. “Keep your hands on that side of the car.”

  “Hand. I only have one available at the moment. Your gun isn’t within my reach. Well,” he added chuckling. “Not that gun.”

  “Hands over there. I mean it.”

  “You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” Trick pressed. “I’m good with my hands. Really good. Especially with my right hand, but that one’s out of commission at the moment.” He rattled the cuff attached to the door handle.

  Nathan refocused his attention on the road. The man next to him was far too distracting for his own good. Far too distracting for anyone’s good.

  An odd noise from Trick’s side of the car drew Nathan’s attention. The rasp of a zipper? He took a quick glance. Then another. Shit.

  He took a side road detour, keeping their vehicle off major arteries and freeways in case the mob was actually following them. It would take them longer, and there’d still have to be an overnight in the hotel, but having a second agent made Nathan feel pretty confident that he’d make the drop at Quantico without a problem.

  Nathan’s nerves were shot. He tightened his grip on the wheel, kept his face straight ahead though the urge to look clawed at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting started without you.”

  The agent in the back snuffled and resumed his death rattle. A look in the rearview told Nathan that diNossi wasn’t anywhere near close to waking up. This new diversionary tactic of Trick’s was all Nathan’s to deal with.

  Shit.

  “I’m nowhere in that equation,” Nathan bit out.

  “I remember every second of that night. Of course you’re in this equation. Who do you think I’ll be imagining?”

  Nathan’s breath caught at the promise in those words. Was he messing with him because he knew Nathan wanted him, or because he wanted to catch Nathan unprepared and make a break for it? He mentally shook himself. It didn’t fucking matter. The man was his suspect, not a front-seat fling.

  He needed to get a grip. Fuck no! He shivered as the image of all kinds of grip-getting flooded his brain. Not a grip, he corrected to himself. Definitely not a grip. There would be no gripping where Trick’s penis was concerned. Not a thought about it and certainly no actual gripping to be had.

  He ground his teeth as he lectured himself.

  Trick moved in the seat next to him. Nathan’s head turned, clearly not following his own explicit directions to not see what the suspect was up to.

  Trick’s gaze held his. The rumble strips on the side of the road had Nathan jerking his attention to his driving.

  Trick chuckled thickly. “You watch the road Agent Rohn. I’ll wa
tch your crotch.”

  Nathan’s balls tingled pleasantly. Already his dick pressed the inside of his slacks uncomfortably. If Trick was watching it, he’d have noticed the very unprofessional tenting of the fabric.

  “You could pull it out for me,” Trick suggested. “Then I can jack off with a specific fantasy in mind.”

  Nathan bit the inside of his cheek. His upper arms and forearms started to ache with tension from how tightly he held the steering wheel.

  “Or don’t. Either way, I’m thinking about that cock while I stroke mine. Remembering how it felt in my hand, even if it was too dark to see in the hallway.” A long shuddering breath from the right side of the car had Nathan on edge. “I bet a man as pretty as you has a pretty prick.”

  “Oh, God,” Nathan mumbled in a near panic.

  He couldn’t resist darting a look to the corner of his eye. Trick’s pants were open and pulled down with his underpants, beneath his balls. The big hairy orbs rested on the white cotton fabric and one beefy mitt began a gentle fondle of a gnarly, lolling dick.

  The man might as well have been fondling him. He felt it straight to his groin, remembering every callous of Trick’s palm as though it were wrapped around Nathan’s shaft again. It was a good thing there was no oncoming traffic. He gave more corner eye attention to Trick than he did to the road he was driving on.

  Trick groaned, and the low decibels erected every last hair follicle on Nathan’s body. The wheel creaked under his fingers.

  Swearing under his breath, he stole several quick looks. Trick’s cock was as weather-beaten as the rest of him. Ruddy and thick, it lifted angrily upward, moving easily into the practiced motions of Trick’s hand. Like he said he would, Trick kept his eyes trained on Nathan’s lap. His expression was hungry and glazed over, already well into whatever fantasy involving Nathan’s dick he’d thought up. The realization only made Nathan’s cock harder as it began to throb with neglect.

  Trick’s breathing grew labored. “Touch me,” he rasped.