Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) (5 page)

Tai had expected Beauchamp would have some kind of parting shot, but a ramble about fishing was hinky, even for him.

Tai stared at the guy. “You can’t leave the county.”

“Well, not officially…” Beauchamp looked down at his cane, shifting it from hand to hand. “But as you seem to be giving my case such
special
attention, I thought you should be able to arrange it.”

The shock of understanding delivered a round of rabbit punches to the gut. Disappointment, disbelief, anger and over it all, head-shaking amusement that bubbled into a laugh. “Shit. You’re a walking disaster. You’re not even good at blackmail.”

“Excuse me. If you don’t want to land yourself in hot water, you’ll do what I tell you.”

“Close the door.” Tai delivered the demand in a low, steady voice so he didn’t spook Jez. The first attempt had been funny. This—Beauchamp acting full of affronted dignity—got deep under Tai’s skin.

Beauchamp shut the door and looked over with a smug expression Tai would have slapped off him in any other situation.

“No, David.”

Beauchamp’s lips parted, but Tai kept talking, leaning over, driving Beauchamp back into the door. “No, that’s not how it’s going to go. And I’m going to tell you why.”

Beauchamp licked his lips.

Tai smiled. “One. I’m not your PO anymore. I had your ass transferred to another officer as soon as I figured out I’d had my dick up it.”

Beauchamp’s breath did the hitch Tai had found so fucking sexy.

Tai watched the flush across Beauchamp’s freckled cheeks, the pulse and bob in his throat, the trapped-animal stare in his eyes. “Yeah. Hungry ass too, begging, grinding on my dick in the fucking bathroom. Which brings us to point two.” Tai was pretty sure Beauchamp was holding his breath. “It’s not going to go like that because you were that guy, David. And you wanted to be. You don’t want to tell me what to do. You’re desperate to have someone tell
you
what to do, and to make you do it. I could have you strip off every stitch for me and put you out of the car, and you’d thank me and call me sir and mean it with every bit of breath in your body.”

Beauchamp released a shaky exhale, but his gaze didn’t stray from Tai’s face.

“And we both know I’m right.”

Beauchamp acknowledged that with the slightest dip of his eyelashes.

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

C
hapter Four

T
he dream that jerked Beach out of sleep was dark and hot and featured his erstwhile probation officer in ways that made his dick hard and his head swim. He just didn’t know if his head was swimming to or away from something. He threw off the sheet and duvet, and the air-conditioned chill dragged at least his little head back from the brink. Sprawled like a starfish across the king-sized mattress, he tried to pin down one of the dream fragments. But all the pieces were slippery, squirting away from his grasp like a handful of too much lube. Beach only knew
he
had been in them. Threat and promise in his commanding body, the growling voice.

And Beach didn’t even know his name. The probation-office listing had been for T. Samuel Fonoti. He tested the name. Sam.

Call me sir and mean it with every bit of breath in your body.
The words rumbled against Beach’s ears from inside his head, driving him fully awake, unable to drift back into his dream.

After rolling from bed, he staggered to the bar, a tumbler and bottle of Pappy Van Winkle in hand before he remembered the damned anklet. Treasuring a sniff of the caramel-praline scent, he put the bourbon carefully back on the bar and filled the tumbler with orange juice from the fridge. Naked but for the damned anklet, he pressed his forehead against the black glass separating him from his balcony.

I could have you strip off every stitch for me and put you out of the car.
Public nudity didn’t hold a great deal of shame or interest for Beach. The thrill of hearing those words in
his
voice had been from the command. The implication that by following the order he might earn that grudging praise, hear that voice telling him it was good or sweet. That was what sent warmth rushing through his veins as surely as if he’d been sipping seventeen-year-old bourbon and not orange juice. Beach slid the door open and stepped out into the hot July night.

Five floors up and at three a.m., there wasn’t much potential for exhibitionism. No lighted boats prowling the harbor. But the buzz under his skin drove him back inside for his phone. Framing his nude body with the harbor at his back, he snapped a picture and keyed in the number for T. Samuel Fonoti with the text,
Ready when you are, sir.

But his thumb hesitated over
send
.

Beach knew only too well the futility of chasing a high. One perfect moment was all you got and then things went downhill quicker than a knife fight in a phone booth.

But this, whatever this was, they’d barely scratched the surface. There were words for it, words he shied away from naming. Words he’d uttered with disdain or mockery for people who felt the need to complicate sex with silly games and costumes, when fucking was as simple and natural an act as breathing.

But what had happened, what he wanted to happen, touched more than just the happy, pleasure parts, though they were certainly involved, he noted with a glance at his half-hard dick. Beach wasn’t one to be counted on for deep thoughts, but standing naked on his balcony at three a.m. seemed to dredge them up. Staring at the black water of the harbor, he had to admit those dizzying moments under the thrall of the other man’s authority had touched what Beach could only call his soul.

No way in hell was he going to have a bare taste and then spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been. He pressed
send
as if he could reach through the phone and touch the man on the other end.

The thought tugged at his guts, then lower. If Sam—Sir?—were here now, if he sent back a hot demand… Beach dropped the phone on the glass table and grabbed his dick, thumbing the slit to work out some precome. It wasn’t the risk of getting caught driving him, but the imagined presence on the phone. Faster, tighter. Even if it burned. He shivered at the idea. How much sensation, how much pain would there be in chasing this high?

The thought of pain was almost always enough to send Beach running in the other direction, but all it did right now was make his dick harder, drag his nuts up.

No.

If Officer Fonoti called back, Beach could be waiting. Aching for it. He yanked his hand away like his dick was on fire, clenching his fist in frustration as the smooth build to orgasm turned into a knotted mess in his balls.

“Now would be good,” he whispered at his phone.

This was crazy. Sweating on the balcony with a chafed, aching dick when there was lube and air-conditioning on the other side of the glass. He was the only person in Baltimore awake.

His phone vibrated against the tabletop, and Beach dove for it.

Don’t contact me again.

The response might have been unequivocal to some people. To Beach, the quick answer meant a lot more.

Why?
Beach’s finger shook when he tapped
send
.

I can’t.

Beach smiled as he read the answer. The space between
I can’t
and
I don’t want to
held infinite possibilities.

G
avin smiled beatifically as he lowered the mimosa to the table. “Nothing like fresh squeezed.”

Beach’s mouth watered at the thought. Miss Shirley’s did them right. It wasn’t the buzz he was missing. It would take more than the champagne bubbling through the orange juice to go to his head, but he wanted that taste. Could feel it at his lips, sliding over his tongue. How sensitive was the damned monitor? One little sip probably wouldn’t register.

Gavin tipped his glass back again, smile going wicked. “I’m sure they could make you a virgin mimosa.”

“The sweet tea is fine.” Beach gripped the tall glass and glared across the table. He knew the bastard had ordered the mimosa on purpose.

“I’m sure it is.”

Patronizing and smug. That prick of a cop was rubbing off on Beach’s oldest friend.

“How long are you going to take it out on me for that little adventure?”

“To which adventure are you referring?” Gavin’s eyes and his grammar got serious. “The one where we both almost died going off the Key Bridge, or the one where you coerced me into criminal trespass out on Fort Carroll that nearly cost me my chance with—” Gavin stopped himself as the waiter approached to take their orders.

Beach’s eyebrows shot up. It was that kind of serious with Sergeant Boyfriend—Jamie. Beach supposed he’d better get used to the idea, and the name. “Your father will be thrilled to give you away at the wedding.”

For an instant the tightness in Gavin’s jaw made Beach remember exactly how it had felt when the ground had given way and he’d plunged into the hole on Fort Carroll, smashing his leg in the process. Then the corner of Gavin’s mouth twitched. “What a lovely photo op that would be.”

“Especially if they can capture your sister’s apoplexy.”

Gavin’s devotion to a family that treated him like a spare tire was something Beach would never understand.

“Ready?” The waiter looked expectantly at Beach.

“I’ll have the crab cake and fried green tomato Benedict. With grits.”

Gavin ordered the grilled salmon Florentine Benedict and handed off their menus.

“Grits for you too, hon?”

Gavin shook his head. “Hash browns.”

“Heathen,” Beach muttered.

Gavin smiled and sipped his mimosa. “You going to get his number or just meet him in the men’s room?”

Powerful arms pinning Beach’s to the window ledge while a thick cock speared him deep and hard. A gravelly
no
echoing off the bathroom tile.

“Uh?”

“Clean living is destroying your brain, Beach. The waiter.”

Beach leaned around a guy shoveling in whipped cream and bananas to get a look. Tall, dark and cute gave him a wink.

Beach turned back to Gavin and shrugged. “Not my type.”

“As opposed to everyone else on the planet?”

Beach offered another shrug.

Gavin splayed his hands on the table. “So I see your face before eleven in the morning for the first time since prep school—”

“Not counting the times we never went to bed,” Beach pointed out.

Gavin leaned back. “I thought being out on the town all night would violate your probation’s curfew.”

He’d been paying attention? Beach didn’t know whether to be charmed or paranoid. He batted his eyes. “I didn’t know you cared that much, sugar.”

“With your epic whining, I couldn’t not know every detail of your probation.” Gavin gave a faint smile. “Besides, I’d rather not have to cut into my schedule to visit you in jail. Too depressing.”

“I had the impression that after Fort Carroll, you’d like me to rot there.”

“That would be Jamie’s fervent desire. I prefer to go on having something to hold over your head.”

“Thanks. I think.”

The waiter was back with their food. After sliding Gavin’s plate to the table, the waiter rested a warm hand on Beach’s shoulder while placing the stacks of crab and fried green tomato in front of him.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” His voice had a nice resonance, like the purr of a cat.

“Not right now, but I’ll let you know,” Beach offered with a promise in his smile. The hand on his shoulder squeezed lightly as the waiter departed.

“That’s the Beach I know.” Gavin put knife and fork to his salmon.

“Thanks. Again.” Beach didn’t know why it irritated him so much.

“What’s causing the sudden concern for your reputation? I thought sex was still on the probation menu.”

“It is.”

Gavin lowered his silverware, brows arched. “Now we get to it.”

“What?”

“Why I’m weeding through your obfuscatory conversation and flirtation for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.”

“I invited you to breakfast. I am paying for your meal, but it’s not as if I strapped you into the chair.” Damn the flush that spilled from his throat up to his jaw. No way would Gavin miss that. But the echo of his words set off a string of images that had Beach shifting on his seat. Would Officer Fonoti want to do that with him?
Bind
him?

Gavin made an exasperated sound. “No. But I do have other plans today. So if you’re planning on—”

“All right.” Beach swallowed a forkful of perfectly seasoned heaven. “It’s difficult to explain. Even to you.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. “You’re pregnant.”

Beach stabbed at a piece of crab to keep from stabbing his friend in the throat.

“If you’re looking at me, the statute of limitations on that ran out almost twenty years ago.”

In spite of himself, Beach started to laugh. This was Gavin. His oldest friend in the world. Without Gavin, it would have taken Beach a lot longer to learn how hard he got off with a dick up his ass. That fucking a friend was as much fun as talking a girl out of her pants.

“Just tell me if we’re dealing with boy trouble or girl trouble.” Gavin’s voice held the smile that hadn’t made it to his face. “Because I’m not really much help with girls.”

“It’s more me. No, everything’s functioning fine, thank you,” Beach added to forestall Gavin’s amusement over any need for a little blue pill. “But…” Beach considered whether he’d want to do any of the things he’d looked at online with a woman being…dominant, and shook his head. “We are also talking about a man.”

Gavin didn’t say anything. With a nod he went back to slicing off bite-sized pieces of breakfast. The bastard.

But aside from the way he limited himself to only picking from one team, Gavin was the most sexually adventurous person Beach knew. If anyone had experience in the kind of thing Beach couldn’t stop thinking about, it was Gavin.

“Your cop—Jamie. He’s kind of bossy.”

“Oh shit. Beach. Jamie told me what you said. About the probation officer harassing you. I am so sorry for teasing you. If I thought—”

Beach waved that off. “That was only an annoyance. It’s been taken care of.”

“Good.” Gavin stopped with his fork on its way to his mouth. “So then what do you mean by Jamie being bossy?”

Gavin’s gaze made Beach feel as if he were pinned on the end of the fork. “I— Has he—? Do you—? Is he bossy about things in a sex way?”

Gavin’s eyes dipped in disappointment. “That’s it? You have a sudden kink for BDSM?”

It hadn’t felt like that, as easy to sum up in some initials used to label Internet porn. The man’s command. The way Beach wanted to be with him. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen. And he’d seen plenty. “Not the leather and the whips. More…” Beach lowered his voice to a whisper, “…about him taking charge. I mean. Of everything.”

“Leather or not, that’s what it is, Beach. I hear there’s plenty of it around.”

“Hear?”

“Sorry to disappoint. D/s isn’t part of my relationship with Jamie.”

“
D
is domination?”

“Did you bother to go on the computer before you dragged me out of bed?”

Beach shrugged and smiled. “You know I’ve always been a hands-on learner.”

Gavin sighed. Again. “
D
is domination.
S
in that sense is submission.” He looked up from where he was sawing through the spinach. “Really, Beach? I can’t see you submitting to a firm scolding, let alone a spanking.”

The flush went all the way up to Beach’s hairline, and he looked around to see if anyone was staring at them. “Spanking?” he croaked.

Gavin gave him a pitying smile. “Do you have plans for dinner?”

“I would, if I weren’t chained to sobriety and this tiny square of the map. Why?”

“You may have wasted a breakfast date on me, but I do know where we can find someone who has a lot of experience.”

Which was how Beach found himself at a Fourth of July barbecue in Mount Washington, scrutinizing the faces of some of Gavin’s new friends to see which might hold the key to information on this secret passion. Hell and hellfire, he sounded like a nineteenth-century novel. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about disclosing his newfound curiosity to complete strangers, but Gavin’s friends were at least easy enough to share a dinner with.

Kellan, tall, blond and friendly. He would be Beach’s first choice. Not only would the man be easy to talk to, but he demonstrated a quiet ability to rein in his excitable boyfriend, Nate. Though if Nate took orders, that clearly only happened at home. So damned smart he was dumb from it, Beach’s gran would have said about Nate. An opinion about everything, and nothing in it but words. But when Kellan had a hand on Nate, he went softer and quieter in a way anybody could see.