Sinners Read online

Don’t go there.

  Instead, Travis pulled back slightly and stripped off his T-shirt, trying desperately to retain a slight bit of control. His own, maybe. And, in return, Loch ran a hand over the sugar skull tattoo on Travis’s chest. It was an elaborate tattoo in grayscale that always got a lot of attention, as did the ever-growing sleeve on his arm.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “I didn’t,” Travis said without thinking, then laughed. “I’m not sure. I mean, I didn’t get them in the same place.”

  Loch just went with it and continued his exploration, walking them into the bedroom and pushing Travis back onto the king-sized bed. Loch took off his own shirt and then reached down to unzip Travis’s jeans and strip him before climbing into the bed and sliding next to him.

  Travis’s bare cock rubbed against the soft fabric of Loch’s pants, and he couldn’t help but arch his hips up to prolong the sensation. He could feel Loch’s hardness pressing his as he stroked his hands down Travis’s back and ass, kissing him deeply—licking, biting, and Travis hoped he’d have the marks for days after this. He let Loch twist and suck his nipples as he arched and cried out Loch's name, held Loch's broad shoulders, clinging to him like a goddamned virgin.

  It was all too much. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions but his body refused to stop feeling, wanting—and worse?

  Obeying.

  He only bottomed for clients and topped for pleasure. And even though he’d switched to client mindset, his body was fighting it, hard, every step of the way. Then he got lost in the feel of Loch's body against his and because Loch was the kind guy who didn’t have to pay for it.

  So why did he?

  Power. Control. Because it was easier to fuck without hopes of commitment.

  Yeah, Travis was your dream man if you were into that sort of thing.

  But he gave up fighting it and watched as Loch shed his own pants and rolled on a condom. Travis spent a few seconds staring at the man’s body. Chiseled abs, cut muscles and a long, thick cock made Travis’s ass ache just looking at him, and then Loch’s body was covering his, Loch’s hands skimming along his ribs, tongue and teeth alternately caressing and biting his skin along his neck and shoulders.

  Once he was moaning Loch’s name and slick with sweat, Loch turned and pressed him flat against the mattress on his belly. His fingers were slicked with lube when they entered him and Travis was rutting the sheets, pressing his ass back and fucking himself on Loch’s fingers.

  “Good, that’s good, Liam. You look beautiful,” Loch murmured and Travis didn’t want to stop being Liam if he could feel like this.

  But hell, it was for sure a mindfuck. Because Travis was pretending to be this guy’s old lover, and he was following Loch's lead, acting like this wasn’t the first time they were together. Except Loch didn’t appear to be acting. Instead, his hands roamed Travis’s body, bringing pleasure to places he didn’t even know turned him on.

  Because in the past, it’d never been about him. His orgasm? He had to try to remain on guard during it—that was always when he was at his most vulnerable and he was usually with a stranger. Beyond that, it was literally only a part of the show. This time? It would be real, and Travis was about to lose his mind because of it.

  Loch murmured, “Just like that, baby.”

  Baby. It’d never sounded so fucking sincere or so hot. Because Travis was answering, “Yeah, come on. More. Please hurry.”

  A beg. This guy had him reduced to begging to be fucked, on his hands and knees, ass in the air and really, truly waiting to be filled. Fucked. Used hard. And he realized all of that was spilling out of his mouth, telling Loch exactly what he wanted…

  And Loch was complying, his covered cock sliding inside of Travis’s ass, and even though he’d been opened, it still burned. But he took it, wanted it, pressed back even when Loch tried to go slowly.

  “Come on—can’t wait, Loch. Need it now,” he commanded and finally, Loch did what he wanted, pressing so he was fully seated inside of Travis, his balls against Travis’s ass. “That’s it. Move. Please fucking move…”

  “Hold on, baby. I will.” Loch began to rock back and forth, and a keening moan escaped Travis as Loch rode him, biting the back of his neck the way Travis had seen stallions do to their mates during mating. It was a way to keep them in place, to remind them of it. A mark, a claim, which led to the biggest orgasms Travis ever remembered having...and one of the few he’d ever had without the use of his own hand.

  And when the roar in his ears turned slightly duller, he heard Lock murmur, “We’re not done, Liam." And Travis desperately wanted to remain Liam for as long as Loch would have him. Loch roughly turned him over and licked the come from his belly, his cock, as Travis watched helplessly.

  Loch watched him as well.

  “God, Loch,” he practically screamed when Loch slid his half-hard and overstimulated cock inside his hot mouth. Travis bucked up—tried to, anyway, but Loch's hold was strong…and surprisingly gentle. Travis couldn’t fight it, so he gave in to every pleasurable sensation he could sink into. Let himself shudder as Loch's talented mouth worked him hard again and then let Loch sink into him.

  Let himself wrap around Loch and hold him like he’d never let go.

  “Tell me,” Loch instructed.

  Vocal. That’s what he wanted but Travis couldn’t control what was coming out of his mouth, dammit. He bit out, “Fucking do it hard,” and then, before he could stop himself, “Make me forget…”

  Loch's head snapped up and, for a second, Loch was looking at him—Travis, not Liam. “Forget what?”

  “Everything else,” slipped out before he could stop himself. And Loch nodded, murmuring promises about spending the rest of the night doing just that as they became a tangle of arms, legs, mouths and tongues. Hours flew by as Loch's hands teased and taunted him, getting him hard again when Travis was pretty sure he was spent for the night.

  Just as the sun began to rise, Loch was inside of him again, murmuring a different name over and over again into his ear, so quietly that he couldn’t quite make it out. Travis didn’t care what Loch called him, was torn between wanting to come and wanting to hold onto this feeling forever, because coming meant ending. And as he struggled to keep it together, Loch was doing his best to pull him apart, dismantle any last vestige of control Travis might have.

  “Let it go, baby. I know you can,” Loch murmured, half plea but mainly command.

  The moans drummed up in Travis’s throat and he remained incoherent for the rest of the fuck. His mind, his body, one big mass of sensation, his heart in his cock, his body a giant heartbeat of climax as he spurted thick ropes of come between them and he begged, “Loch, please…don’t.”

  “Don’t what, Travis?”

  Travis. Not Liam. “Don’t let go.” He was horrified to hear himself say, but it was the truth, because when Loch held him tight, he came again, so unexpectedly that all he could do was stare at Loch helplessly as his body jackknifed with pleasure.

  In the aftermath, he almost couldn’t look Loch in the eye, instead allowing him to remain holding him, reminding himself harshly over and over that this was a goddamned job as he slammed back down to earth. Or tried to. Loch apparently was attempting to block his re-entry with the press of his hard cock against Travis’s ass.

  At that moment, Travis let Loch win.

  CHAPTER THREE

  YOU’RE NOT IN MOURNING—YOU’RE wallowing.

  Those had been Tarquin “Tar” Simon’s—final words to him the last time they’d spoken, nearly a year ago. Tar hadn’t been wrong, but that hadn’t stopped Loch from telling his one-time best friend to go fuck himself before diving headfirst into an endless bottle of scotch without looking back. Not until the call, the favor he owed from what now seemed like a lifetime ago, when he’d traded them on the reg with the FBI for even a mere glimpse of Snow’s men.

  Fine. So Loch had agreed to do the goddamned favor.

  Even
in his numbed state, he’d known that being that out of it on a job would be fucking dumb. In his profession, in his life, he had enemies. So he’d swum out of the bottle just long enough to take the job, albeit with a small glass of scotch to stop the shakes. It should’ve been simple—an old bureau friend calling in a chip. A honeypot deal. A witness recapture, pure and simple.

  But the man breathing deeply next to him in bed was anything but simple. From the second Loch had seen him walking into Tally’s, he’d wanted to force Travis to his knees and take some of that attitude away, make him moan.

  And he’d done just that. Then he’d lain, wide-awake in the dark, biding his time until Travis had woken from his sex-drugged sleep and gone home with the money Loch left for him on his jacket.

  Now? It was time to call Tar.

  Simple, my ass.

  Just the idea of what he was going back into, what he’d discovered in bed in the early morning hours before the dawn nearly convinced Loch to drink the entire bottle of scotch on his night table. He knew he was sobering up when he started to actually feel, and that feeling had started last night when he’d called Travis by his real name while they were fucking…and then he’d felt the marks and tried to convince himself he was hallucinating.

  Now he unscrewed the cap and inhaled deeply, breathing it in like the scent of an old lover. He could nearly taste it that way, and for now, that had to be enough. He got up and poured the rest of the liquid down the sink and threw the bottle away. Now was the time to prep for the DTs. By tomorrow he’d be in decent enough shape to see Travis again. He’d done the short road to detox before, even had the meds to make it easier on himself. But he didn’t want easy. Didn’t deserve it.

  This would just be more penance…because there would never be enough of it, evidenced by his discovery in the early morning hours of fucking Travis into the mattress over and over again.

  His crescent moon-shaped scars were well hidden—Loch's fingers had brushed over them a few times as he’d rimmed Travis, but he didn’t check them then, for obvious reasons. Finally, when he was able to, he pulled back and let his fingertips trace subtly on both sides as he looked and almost froze at the sight of them.

  Loch automatically looked for them in every man he’d fucked. He’d seen Tar's, not during sex, but out of necessity, and he’d felt them too because sometimes he had to use his fingertips and not his eyes in the dark. He remembered Tar's sharp intake of breath when he’d run his fingers across the grooves cut deep into his upper thighs, right into the creases of his ass cheeks. It hadn’t been sexual in any way, but it had been magnetic. Solidifying. Bonding in a way he’d never bonded with any other man before.

  He should be mine, Loch remembered thinking to himself. And Tar was his, his best friend, partner in crime. There was no way Loch was going to ruin it for a fuck.

  Instead, they’d started to share men—not the Snow case men, but other men they picked up. It was a way to keep them both safe, in case the man they were fucking was an enemy. So Loch couldn’t remember having sex without Tar watching…until Liam. And that’s when everything had gone bad.

  Dammit. He dialed Tar before he talked himself out of it.

  Tar picked up on the first ring, causing Loch to ask, “Were you waiting by the phone?”

  “Like a lovesick girl,” Tar told him unashamedly.

  “You knew.”

  “I didn’t orchestrate it, but yes.” Tar never lied—not to Loch. Tar was a damned good liar, but it always reassured Loch to never be in the receiving end of it. Their friendship had been built on better—the best and the worst either had ever dealt with. There was no room for deceit. “So…you’ve made contact.”

  “If you know, then why ask?” Loch closed his eyes, pictured his best friend, guilt flooding him for so many damned reasons.

  “Because I wanted contact with you that didn’t involve a text,” Tar told him. “I figured Skype would be moving too fast for your delicate sensibilities.”

  “Fuck you.” Loch laughed though, and so did Tar, and just like that they were back on the road to recovery. “Does Jasper know?”

  “Jasper knows everything. He’s annoying as fuck,” Tar said irritably. “You okay to keep going on this one?”

  Loch bit back a curse—because Tar was right to ask. He figured ripping off the bandaid was the best way to go. “Travis looks a bit like Liam.”

  A pause on Tar's end wasn’t a surprise, especially given the fact that Liam had been the start of the schism that widened to a major fault line after he’d been killed. Finally, Tar said quietly, almost kindly, “That’s Snow’s type, Loch.”

  Why hadn’t Loch seen that before? Because Tar could also pass for Liam and Travis’s brother. And that made something unidentifiable and yet familiar stir deep in Loch's belly before he shoved it back down, which he did with any and all feelings he didn’t want to deal with. “Yeah, so, I’ll get Travis back here and move out with him.”

  “He’s not with you?”

  “No. And I know what the fuck I’m doing,” Loch said sharply.

  “You can’t lose him.” Tar tried to keep the urgency out of his voice and mostly failed. “Let me do this one. You’re—"

  “Too close to it?” He laughed darkly. Painfully. Saw Liam’s broken body lying in the parking lot, the blood spilt on the asphalt creating a dark halo around his lover’s head…the betrayals too many to count. “I’ve got this one.”

  “You’ve slept with Travis, then?” It wasn’t a judgment, just a question.

  Loch bristled anyway. “Yes. Many times. That’s how I know he’ll come back.”

  “Touché,” Tar said quietly. “I’ll ask again—are you okay to see it through?”

  “You’d do it.”

  “I’m not suicidal.”

  “Really?”

  “You have to admit you’re way closer to the ledge than I am.”

  Loch nodded at that admission, as if that—and the silence—would transfer over the phone.

  It did. “When’s he coming back?”

  “I was thinking tomorrow night. I can’t push it yet.”

  “You’re going to have to. Both the feds and the Russians will be able to track him sooner than later—hell, if you weren’t so good I’d say Parks already made you. It’s a good thing we’re already watching.” As Tar spoke, a browser opened on Loch's screen. An apartment.

  Travis’s apartment.

  “You’re already here,” Loch said.

  “Define here.” Tar paused. “I had a feeling on this. Look, I was already following the kid—“

  “He’s not a kid.”

  “Fine, I was following the very adult young man because I suspected he was Snow’s. Before I could grab him, he was swept up in the mob bust and Parks called you for the favor.”

  “And you figured…”

  “Two birds, one stone.”

  “And no warning from you.”

  Tar snorted. “You wouldn’t have taken a warning—or the job, not if you knew I was involved.”

  Maybe Tar was right. Loch couldn’t be sure. But, now that he was in it, the noose tightened and there wasn’t a viable means of escape. Not until they’d gotten Travis off the streets. “Tomorrow.”

  “You always did like the catch more flies with honey approach,” Tar muttered.

  “Fucking caveman,” Loch shot back.

  “Yeah, good to have you back, brother. Really good…. but it’s got to be tonight.”

  Loch refused to say he’d be too shaky. He’d never done down and out well and wasn’t about to admit his weakness to Tar. “Fine, but you need to come up with a reason for him to trust me.”

  “I’ll make sure that he thinks the Russians found him.”

  “When?”

  “After midnight. The footage will load from the live feed.”

  “And where will you be?”

  “Close enough to help when needed.”

  “If.”

  “If and when,” Tar count
ered, cutting the line to ensure getting the last word.

  “Child,” Loch muttered into the silence. He hung up on his end and brooded. Tar was already securing safe houses, he knew and Loch was more worried about seeing him than he was dealing with Travis.

  He looked down at his hands. He could still feel Travis’s skin under his fingertips, and he shifted to let himself feel the nail scrapes that Travis had made down his back when they’d both been coming.

  Fuck. Loch had to swallow the lump back in his throat. To distract himself further, he clicked on the feed Tar had messaged him and found himself looking at Travis’s apartment.

  It was on the third floor of Dodge’s house, a notorious fix-it man himself. Combined with the fact that Travis knew him, that Dodge was willing to take him in was very telling.

  But Travis had come in looking to fuck, not to grift or hook. Loch had surprised him, which threw Travis off his game.

  Good. That’s what Loch did best…except he’d thrown himself off his game as well in the process.

  Travis was the first guy since Liam that Loch actually tried to pretend was Liam… and couldn’t. Not after Travis came through, loud and clear…and Loch hadn’t minded.

  “Fuck.” He raked a hand through his hair as he pretended to focus on the pile of random magazines and newspapers on Travis’s night table.

  But his attention soon turned to Travis arriving home, stripping as he walked through the apartment. His shirt was off and Loch texted him before he could go farther with, Free tonight?

  Because he wanted to see Travis’s face when he did it—wanted to see the purest reaction.

  He heard Travis’s phone ding and watched him glance at it and smile. Not a ‘got him’ smile, but a real, small, soft smile.

  The kind of smile you let happen when you’re unguarded, when you know you’re safe and no one’s watching.

  That was almost enough for Loch to turn off the live feed. Almost. Instead, he waited until Travis texted him back. Travis waited just long enough to not look too eager…and he typed and erased a few times before Loch got his message.

  Sure thing. Eight o’clock okay?