Brooklyn Sinners 3 -A Sinner Born (15 page)

He struggled to his feet and dusted off the seat of his jeans. “I’m going to do as you’ve often asked—give it the old college try.” Using the tip of his boot, he scraped away a patch of gravel near the headstone. “Thank you for loving me, Bailey Shannan.” He choked up again. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. There’s no way I could ever forget what we shared.” Throwing a wink at the grave he promised, “I’ll be back.”

He walked away, pulling his cell phone out and dialing before he could change his mind.
“Marshal.”
Kane took a breath and spoke. “Get on your plane and bring an overnight bag with you. I want you. Come to me.” He exhaled loudly over the beating of his heart, but Syren had gone silent. Kane’s pulse kicked into high gear. “Syren.”
“Yeah. I— I’m outside your door.”
Kane stopped with one foot hanging out his driver’s side door. “You are?”
“Thought I’d be the bigger man. Make the first move.” Hesitant laughter rumbled in Syren’s voice.
Kane grunted. “Right. You’re all about making first moves, aren’t you?” He caught his gaze in the rearview mirror and stared. A wide smile creased his face. His eyes sparkled.
“I am.” Syren paused. “Where are you, Marshal? I’m on your doorstep.”
“Make yourself comfortable on the front steps,” Kane told him. “I’m about twenty minutes away.”
“First, I don’t do direct sunlight so you better be making this shit up to me.”
Kane buckled into his seat with a bark of laughter. “What’s second?”
“I missed you.” There was no pretense, no false undertone in Syren’s clearly spoken words.
Kane leaned his head back on the car seat and closed his eyes briefly. “I missed you too.” The words left him in a husky breath. “Let’s not do this again.”
“Let’s not,” Syren agreed. “Hurry, Marshal. I’m melting.”
He made it to his house in under twenty minutes and pulled into his empty driveway with a frown. He saw no sign of Syren. He turned the car off and exited, keys in hand, reaching for his phone in his jeans pocket.
His front door opened and Syren stepped out, lithe frame clad in a dark pinstriped suit, a white shirt and a lilac-colored skinny tie that clashed in the best way with his eyes. He stood barefoot and regarded Kane with the smuggest smile.
Kane walked up to him with narrowed eyes. “You broke in?” Why the hell was he surprised? He brushed past Syren and into the house. The door closed behind him.
“Break-in is such a nasty word,” Syren said from over his shoulder. “I prefer to say I availed myself of your home whilst you were gone.”
“Really?” Kane tossed his keys and wallet onto the small table to the left of the entryway then faced Syren. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” Leaning into the archway to the living room, he folded his arms and smiled.
“Let that be a lesson.”’ Shifting from one foot to the other, Syren looked up at him from under his lashes. “Don’t make me wait on you.” His gaze danced all around the room.
Kane grinned. He liked knowing he had Syren on edge. “Duly noted.” He beckoned with a finger. “Come here.”
Syren’s lashes fluttered and his cheekbones grew rosy with color. “Hmm. Say what now?”
“Get your ass over here,” Kane rasped. “You don’t want me hunting you down.”
Syren’s nostrils flared and his lips parted. Kane loved watching the effect his words had on the other man. The knowledge that he was the only man to do that, talk to Syren and elicit those kinds of reactions, made him feel ten feet tall.
Syren edged closer. “I’m not liking your tone, Marshal.” His throaty voice belied the words and Kane raised an eyebrow.
Dropping his gaze to Syren’s crotch, he said, “Your body does.”
“My body does not control me.”
Kane reached out and grabbed him by the lapel, yanking Syren flush against him. “But who controls your body?” he asked with his mouth hovering over Syren’s.
Syren held on to him by grasping his biceps, his short nails digging in and holding fast. His pulse sped up under Kane’s touch, but he didn’t answer.
Kane fisted Syren’s hair with his other hand and yanked his head back.
“Ugh.” Syren’s lashes dipped, hiding his eyes.
“Answer the fucking question.”
Syren’s eyes flew open, pupils dilated. He licked his lips and pressed his lower half into Kane. “You.” He held Kane’s gaze, never backing down as he acquiesced to Kane’s purely selfish Q and A. “You control my body.”
Kane dipped his head and dragged his teeth over the column of Syren’s neck. The man in his arms shook uncontrollably. “Only me.”
“Yes,” Syren hissed and attempted to get closer. “Only you.”
Kane licked his Adam’s apple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “Only rule. No one else,” he whispered into Syren’s ear. “No kissing anyone else.” He cupped Syren’s ass and nipped his earlobe. “No touching anyone else.” Kane traced the shell of Syren’s ear with his tongue and smiled when Syren gulped. “It’s me and you.” He moved back to Syren’s mouth, lightly brushing their lips together. “Say it.”
“It’s you and me,” Syren moaned. “Kane—”
Kane took his lips, hard and punishing, an attempt to wipe away whoever tasted Syren before, whoever came before. Syren opened for him, eagerly offering up his tongue and Kane took it, sucking until Syren squirmed, until the nails in Kane’s arms left their mark. He tore his mouth and tilted Syren’s head back.
“I want you upstairs, spread out on my bed,” he grated next to Syren’s jaw. “I’ve got a pair of handcuffs with your name on them.”
A soft breath left Syren. He opened his eyes and pinned Kane in place. “You want to shackle me, Marshal?”
“Yes. I want nothing but you spread-eagle while I fuck you, my handcuffs leaving marks on your wrists.” He trapped Syren’s hands in his. “My marks.”
Syren’s chest rose and fell rapidly, but his gaze searched Kane’s. “How?”
Kane cupped his jaw. He saw the fear and while Syren never spelled it out, he’d already guessed Syren didn’t like being taken from the back, being vulnerable. “That way.”
Syren shook his head. “No.” His bottom lip trembled. “Kane. No.”
“Yes.” They had to find a way to exorcise those demons else their sex life would be over before it began. Kane was no shrink, but what better way to remove the bad memories associated with sex than to replace them? Syren’s mind could then associate sex with good memories. Not an exact science, but worth a try. “Trust me,” he pleaded. “Let’s try to link that position with some good stuff, huh?” He brought their noses together. “What’s better than me kissing you, touching you while you’re laid out like that?”
Syren’s eyes were red-rimmed. “I’ll come apart.” His words shook. “If we do it that way, Kane, I’m afraid I’ll come apart.” His gaze begged Kane to understand and he did.
“I’ll be there, right there, to put you back together.”
Syren simply stared at him. “You’re saying you want to have your way with me. You want complete control over me.”
Kane shrugged. “Thought that went without saying.”
A smile curved Syren’s face and spread to his eyes. “Get your handcuffs then. I trust you to take care of me.” The smile went away. “I’m trusting you to catch me when I fall.”

Despite the slight tremor in his voice, the trust in Syren’s words hit Kane square in the chest. That was when he got it, when he understood the responsibility he’d undertaken with Syren. The smaller man’s trust didn’t come easy, in fact it was damn near unattainable, yet he’d placed himself in Kane’s hands.

This time when they went upstairs and made their way down the hall to the guest bedroom, Kane didn’t hesitate in front of his bedroom like he’d done the last time. It was a step that needed taking, but he wasn’t ready. He would be one day soon. At least he hoped. Making love to Syren in his and Bailey’s bed would be the last step to take in order to leave his life with Bailey behind and as he pushed open the door to the guest bedroom and entered, Kane knew despite the words he’d spoken in the cemetery that shit was more easily said than done.

He looked over at Syren and found him hovering near the bed, his brow knitted as his fingers plucked at the edges of the sheet. Thank God Kane had remembered to change the bed since the last time they’d been it in. He wasn’t usually good at that. He strode purposefully past Syren and pulled open the bottom drawer in the nightstand, removing lube, condoms and cool, silver handcuffs.

He dropped them on the bed next to Syren and watched him flinch. Nerves were easy to read on Syren’s face, but so were the rosy flush and parted lips when he lifted his face to Kane.

He was afraid, but not too much so. He remained hesitant but willing and Kane couldn’t ask for more. His job was to remove any doubts from Syren’s mind, to make it plain that he wanted him, he desired him.

“Stand.” He spoke the one word in a curt manner, a definite command he knew Syren would heed. There was a submissive bent to the gorgeous man that Kane had no problem exploring.

Syren got to his feet slowly, staggering a bit. Kane reversed their positions, taking a seat on the edge of the bed while Syren stood before him.
“Come closer.” He crooked a finger. Syren licked his lips and did as he asked, his gaze locked on to Kane’s, never letting go. Kane parted his thighs, giving his aching balls some room as he motioned for Syren to stand between them. When he did, Kane jerked his chin. “You got something pretty on under that suit?”
Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, Syren nodded.
“Get undressed. Take your time.”
Syren shrugged out of his clothes, baring his pale, smooth skin inch by mouthwatering inch. Kane kept his gaze on him and palmed his own crotch, rocking into his hand under Syren’s heavy-lidded scrutiny. “You get me so hard,” Kane murmured. “Every time I look at you I have to restrain myself from pouncing on you.”
Syren’s raspy breaths echoed across the room as he stepped out of his pants. The scrape of the material hitting the floor blended with Kane’s hiss when he got an eyeful of what Syren wore.
Black leather with barely enough material to contain the bulging cock Kane couldn’t take his gaze off. The underwear was secured on either side of Syren’s narrow hips with thin straps tied in bows.
Sexy. Unreal. Leaving Kane so unbelievably turned-on he could barely form words. “Goddamn,” he breathed.
“I picked it especially for you.” Syren swallowed. “It turns me on knowing how much I turn you on.”
“Fuck turn me on.” Kane unzipped his jeans and freed his pulsing shaft with a moan. “You blow my mind. You leave me speechless.”
Syren smiled. His eyes grew darker as he watched Kane stroke himself. “So who’s controlling whom, Marshal?”
“Smart-mouthed little fucker, aren’t you?” Kane eased his ass off the bed and pulled his jeans down his hips. He kicked them aside and arched an eyebrow. “You’re not done, show me the back.”
Syren complied with a toss of his head.
All saliva inside Kane’s mouth dried up. A thong. The tiniest slip of string buried between Syren’s pale ass cheeks. An ass Kane wanted to leave his palm prints on, sink his teeth into, it was that plump and juicy.
“Goddamn.” The contrast of Syren’s skin was striking, his entire back disfigured with the evidence of his beatings, the scars a beautiful tapestry of sacrifice and yet, below his hips, Syren was flawless.
Kane reached out a hand in reverence, caressing the small of his back and down the curve of a hip. Smooth like satin, from his ass down to the soles of his feet. Syren’s body looked like a creamy confection, all Kane’s for the taking.
The tasting.
He leaned forward and swiped his tongue across an ass cheek.
Syren jolted.
“Grab your ankles.” Kane didn’t wait for him to comply, he yanked at the string securing the thong on the right and it came undone slowly. Syren bent over and Kane sank his teeth in, biting and quickly licking away the pain.
“Uh. Uh.” Syren shook under his touch. “Kane.”
“You’re such a fucking tease.” Kane smacked him, not too hard, but enough to sting. “I should punish you, beat that gorgeous ass for getting me so hard I can’t think straight.” He tongued Syren’s crack and undid the other tie before flinging the thong to the floor.
“Please, Kane.” Syren’s words were a breathy cry as his body rocked. He pushed himself back into Kane’s face and that earned him another smack. Same ass cheek, same spot. He trembled. “God.”
Kane stroked himself and used the index from his other hand to circle Syren’s hole. He tapped against the dark, wrinkled entrance and grinned when it contracted for him. “Your responses. Man.” He swiped a thumb over his wet crown. “The way you respond to me, I get high off that.”
Syren pushed against his finger. “Kane, please.” He begged just right, voice agitated, breathy raspy, body shaking. “Do something!”
Kane grabbed the lube and squeezed some onto his fingers. “On your knees.”
Syren sank to the floor, a fluid motion that looked so effortless and sensual.
“Cheek flat on the floor,” Kane rasped. “Ass in the air.”
Syren did it, his body shifting into position as if he’d always done so. The curve of his spine was beautiful as he waited and Kane couldn’t resist smoothing a palm down from his nape to the top of his ass.
“Hold yourself open for me.” He edged closer and he heard it, Syren’s breath rattling in his chest. “So beautiful like this. Perfection. I want to dirty you up, come all over your back. Your ass.”
“Yes.” Syren arched higher, knuckles white against his skin where he exposed himself so readily. “Do it.”
Kane pushed a finger into him, his pulse racing at the heat. Syren’s entrance resisted him at first, clamping down and fighting to expel him. He pushed forward slowly and sank clear.
“Aah.” The word was sighed from the man before him as he wiggled. “Hmm, God. More.”
Kane smacked him. “I give the orders.” Yet he added another finger and wormed his way inside.
“Oh yeah.” Syren rocked back, foreign words falling from his lips. “Yes.”
Kane smacked him again, because he loved the sound of his palm connecting with Syren’s flesh, and because the most beautiful and mournful sounds emanated from Syren’s throat when he did. With each blow Syren rocked, ass pushing back, riding the fingers Kane scissored inside him.
His hands were busy but Kane’s cock hadn’t gotten the memo—his shaft bobbed with every blow he landed on Syren, dribbling sticky pre-cum on his upper thighs and lower belly. His balls had long started throbbing, syncing with the pulsing muscles in Syren’s ass. He paused long enough to get more lube then screwed three fingers back into Syren.
The other man’s cries ratcheted higher, bouncing off the walls, yet he pushed back, hips rolling as he lifted off then sank down on Kane’s digits again and again. Kane wiggled his fingers, searching for his prostate with sure, upward strokes. He found that bad boy and grazed it with his knuckles.
Syren cried out and raised his head. His limbs trembled quite noticeably but he worked himself on Kane’s fingers.
Kane touched him there again.
“Please,” Syren whispered. “I—oh fuck. I need—”
“I know what you need,” Kane assured him. He pressed against the walnut-sized gland again, bit more pressure this time. “This, this is what you need.” He stroked himself, root to tip, fast and furious, the action quickly taking him where he wanted to be.
Syren arched, widening himself and Kane moved off the bed in a semi-crouch over his lower half. In that position he could angle his fingers in even deeper and he did, rougher this time, no holds barred. He dug in and out, the movement making his wrist ache, but Syren’s noises grew louder and Kane’s orgasm reared up.
“Fuck!” He threw his head back and let go. His release was blinding, ripping a hoarse cry from him as he pointed his cock head downward and emptied himself on Syren’s lower back.
“Ugh.” Syren shuddered. Kane’s cream slid down the crack of his ass. “Fuck. Kane!”
Kane removed his fingers, slowly, grinning as Syren’s muscles grabbed at him to keep them inside. Syren hadn’t achieved his release but Kane wasn’t finished with him. “I’m not done with you,” he murmured. “Get on your feet.”
He moved to the side. It took Syren three tries before he could stand on his feet and he still wasn’t steady when he raised accusing eyes to Kane. “W-was that your plan? To keep me hanging on the edge?”
Kane grinned and yanked him close, taking Syren’s mouth and thrusting his tongue deep. Kane didn’t do gentle, not then. He used his teeth, biting at Syren’s lips and chin while he fisted his silky hair. Syren didn’t simply allow himself to be taken either, his hands roamed Kane’s back, nails dragging along his spine, leaving goose bumps.
He moaned into Syren’s mouth, pushing his semi-hard cock, still leaking, into the man’s stomach. Syren ground against him, their teeth clinking, tongues twisting. It was a claiming and Kane couldn’t say for sure who claimed whom. He pushed Syren away and the other man stumbled back.
He met Kane’s gaze with wide eyes and flared nostrils, his lips red and swollen, cock hard and pointing at Kane with a slick, wet head. “Don’t test me, Marshal.” Syren’s hands balled into fists.
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” The words rumbled in Kane’s chest and he stepped closer. “It’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to test you, push you, make it okay for you to want what I give?” He reached between them and trailed a finger down Syren’s shaft, from head to balls.
Syren’s breath caught, but he spoke anyway. “What exactly do you give, Kane?”
“I give sex.” Kane rubbed his jaw against Syren’s and mouthed his ear. “The guiltfree kind. The bad kind that’s just good enough for you. Especially for you.” He squeezed the dick in his hand and Syren’s hips surged forward. “The kind you beg for.” He sank his teeth into Syren’s jaw.
Syren shook, his cock grew harder, the crown wetter. The sounds in his throat had Kane hard again, had him ready again.
“I don’t beg,” Syren whimpered.
Kane laughed. “For me you do.” He grabbed the hair on the top of Syren’s head and jerked him back, exposing Syren’s throat and eyes to him. “Tonight you do.” He kissed Syren’s throat then thrust him away. “Lie in the middle of the bed. Facedown and this gorgeous ass up.” He squeezed one of Syren’s plump cheeks then stepped away and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. One thing about Syren, he knew how to follow orders and Kane loved that so much, it made his balls and teeth ache. In the middle of his bed, Syren settled on his stomach, face buried in the pillows. Kane sat beside him and picked up the handcuffs. They clinked and Syren lifted his head.
“Kane.” The fear was back, shadowing his eyes, leaching color from his flushed face.
“I’m here.” Kane traced his lips with a finger. “I’m here, remember? To keep you safe, to make new memories and to put you back together if you come apart.”
Syren kissed his fingertip. “My hero, are you?”
An unfamiliar ache blossomed in Kane’s chest. “Whatever you want me to be,” he whispered. Clearing his throat, he cupped Syren’s jaw. “Whoever.” Truer words he realized he hadn’t spoken in a while. Whatever Syren needed he’d be.
Syren held Kane’s hand and pressed his cheek into his palm. “Kane Ashby, he’s who I want.” Syren’s lashes fluttered then lifted. The vulnerability in his gaze rocked Kane. “Can you be Kane Ashby?”
Kane tried for a smile, but he knew it came out shaky. “Even if this Kane guy can be rough and kinda domineering and maybe even a pain sometimes?”
Syren’s lips quirked but he nodded. “Yep.”
“Then yes.” Kane swallowed. “I can be who you want.” His heart was racing, threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment, but he couldn’t look away from Syren, couldn’t extricate himself from the sensual web they’d created.
“
Então me tome.
” Syren winked and offered up his wrists. “Then take me.” His fingertips were cold when they brushed Kane’s thigh. “I expect you to do your damndest in an attempt to make me beg.” An easy smile graced his lips. “But I won’t, of course.”
“Of course.” Kane clasped Syren’s wrists and used the handcuffs to shackle him to the head of the bed. Finished, he stood next to Syren with his hands on his naked hips. “Good?”
A flash of pink caught his eye when Syren licked his bottom lip. “Never better.”
Kane frowned down at him. “Don’t hesitate to tell me if it gets to be too much. I want this to be good for you.” This exercise was for Syren, to show him all the good things they could share, things that didn’t have to be clouded by his past experiences, painful though they may be.
“Don’t hover, Marshal. It’s quite unbecoming.” Syren moved an arm and the handcuffs rattled. Kane took note of the tense set of his shoulders.
“Syren—”
“Do you have a belt?”
A belt? “Why do you need—”
“Answer the question,” Syren snapped. He jerked his head up, jaw set. “Yes or no?”
Kane gaped at him. “Yes.”
“Leather? Thick?”
Kane pursed his lips. He didn’t like the stubborn tilt to Syren’s chin or the sudden flash of something dark in his eyes, there one minute, fading the next. “Yes.”
“Get it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Kane didn’t know where this dialogue was going, but damn if it would be anywhere good.
“Obviously I can’t get it myself,” Syren spoke from the bed. “Get the belt, Kane. Please.”
Kane watched him, searching Syren’s gaze for anything that gave away his train of thought, but Syren had everything locked up tight. Finally he forced himself to walk out the guestroom and into his bedroom. He ignored the photographs on the nightstands and chests of drawers, the huge portrait on the wall opposite the bed. He ignored everything and instead focused on rummaging through drawers until he found the belt Bailey had bought him.
He held it tight, twisted it around his palm and went back to Syren. He remained in place, face in the pillows.
“Bring it to me.” He lifted his head when Kane came over. “Put it near my face, my nose.”
Kane had no clue what was happening, the look in Syren’s eyes was one he couldn’t describe, one he didn’t know yet if he liked, but he unfurled the belt from his hand and let it fall, the end gently tapping Syren on the nose.
His eyelids fluttered then dropped, closing off his thoughts and feelings to Kane. As he watched, Syren sniffed the belt, rubbing his nose up and down its length as far as he could reach.
“For a long time I’d be scared shitless whenever I heard someone’s belt buckle rattle.” Syren spoke so low Kane barely made out the words, but he heard. Oh he heard and his heart bled. “Felt so helpless,” Syren continued, words coming out sounding wet. “That’s the worst part, feeling helpless.”
“And now?” Kane asked. Syren raised tear-soaked eyes to him and Kane said, “Tell me what you want me to do and I will.”
“Use it.”
Kane blinked. “What? No way.” He shook his head. Hell no. “I’m not beating you. I’m not whipping you. I’m not causing you any more pain.”
“I’m not asking for that,” Syren said softly. Teeth marks on his bottom lip made it an angry red. “Love me with it, make me scream and beg and come apart.” His Adam’s apple slid north and south. “Make me come undone…but use the belt.”
Kane shook his head slowly. “Syren. I don’t know if I can.” Christ. Did he have any idea what he was asking? Kane’s fingers twitched and he tightened his hold on the belt.
“You can, Marshal, and you know why?” Syren raised an eyebrow. “Because this is about me, about what I want and tonight I want new memories. With the belt.” He pushed his face back into the pillows.
As Kane watched, Syren parted his legs, spreading wide. Kane licked his lips. He couldn’t help that everything about Syren’s body had his pulse racing and his balls aching. Syren positioned himself with both elbows pressed into the mattress and slowly, effortlessly, lifted his lower half off the bed.