Til Darkness Falls, page 5
“What the fuck did I do?”
Received the most amazing blow job of his life from the hottest damn guy he’d ever met, that’s what. Brian cracked his eyes open into cautious slits, expecting them to feel gritty. Not only were they not sore and tired as sleepless nights usually left them, but they felt rather good. In fact, he felt good all over. No headache lay in wait to punish him for drinking too much the previous evening, and he didn’t have so much as a sore muscle from sleeping on an unfamiliar mattress. He felt better than he had in nearly a month.
I should sleep here every night.
Brian was sure his brain would have skid marks from how quickly he put the brakes on that line of thought. There had only been one man he’d ever slept comfortably with, and he was long dead. Having another body in bed with him made him feel vulnerable and usually guaranteed he’d spend the night tossing and turning. But last night, he’d slept like a log.
He wasn’t really sure what to think, but the fact remained that he had slept—and slept well—with a total stranger. A fucking gorgeous stranger with an insanely sexy accent. Brian groaned as more of last night started coming back to him, embarrassed that his first sex in over a year had ended with him leaving his partner high and dry while he fell asleep.
Well, that was easily remedied, and he could definitely use an outlet for the pent-up energy from his latest dream. Never let it be said that he was a selfish lover. The sky visible through the window was the deep indigo of approaching dawn, but it was still a ways off yet. The room was still pretty dark, but Brian didn’t need to see for what he was planning. Rather, light would feed his insecurities and remind him how out of character he was acting. The ache in his cock spurring him on, he turned toward his new—what? Friend, partner, fuck-buddy? Deciding that the latter moniker was the easiest to accept, Brian reached out to try out his extremely rusty powers of seduction.
His eyes flew open fully when his searching hands found nothing but smooth linen. Brian sat up to confirm what his hands had told him. Indeed, the other side of the bed was completely empty. He spread a hand over the sheets, feeling not even the barest hint of lingering warmth.
Well, fuck me.
So much for that. Anger and mortification warred for prominence in his mind. He wouldn’t have pegged the blond for an asshole, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been dead wrong. A shadow at the foot of the bed resolved into a piece of luggage lying on a rack. So, the man hadn’t checked out, but he’d made himself scarce, obviously unwilling to engage in some awkward morning-after scene.
Taking the hint, Brian figured he might as well just gather up his clothes and what remained of his pride and get the hell out before the other man returned. The German would surely appreciate him departing as efficiently as possible. And he bet that prick of a manager would enjoy watching him leave before first light like some hustler who’d worn out his welcome.
Get your shit together, Macon.
For once, he agreed with his captain one hundred percent.
Brian swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet landing on his discarded pants. He grimaced at the thought of how wrinkled they’d be after lying on the floor all night. He might not be the snappiest of dressers, but he didn’t have a ton of clothing suitable for work, so he was careful with what little he had. Groping for the lamp that had led to that whole stupid Braille game, Brian swore sharply as he knocked his hand against the edge of the night table. He hissed, the sharp pain that bloomed at the point of impact only adding to his irritation with himself and this entire situation.
“Just perfect,” he muttered, annoyed with his own clumsiness. He shook his hand for a second until the sting began to fade and reached out a second time with more caution. Finding the base of the lamp, he followed the metal stem upward until his fingers touched the switch. Blinking rapidly as the sudden burst of light shriveled his irises, Brian looked down to begin the humiliating process of locating his clothes.
A note lay innocently on the night table next to a key card, the same key card that the blond man had flashed at the manager so effectively.
Brian sat motionlessly for a long moment staring at the two objects. Impatient with waiting for his mind to catch up, his body reacted violently to the seemingly innocuous sheet of paper and piece of plastic as though the man was right there touching him and driving him crazy all over again. His cock swelled to full mast, and his hand was reaching for it before he had even formed the conscious intent to do so.
One squeeze was nearly all it took, his body responding readily to the slightest touch. His skin felt the ghost of the blond’s touch, and the memory was almost enough to make him come. He seriously needed to get laid more often if all it took was one blow job to make him this needy.
One absolutely incredible blow job. No harm in giving the blond his due. And now this, Brian mused as he stared down at the note and key card. Had last night meant something more than he’d wanted to believe? Perhaps it hadn’t merely been some tawdry encounter he should forget as fast as he could. The key, at the very least, had to indicate that a repeat encounter would be welcomed.
Helplessly, Brian fell back against the bed and shuffled his stockinged feet against the thick carpet as he took hold of his cock. Whatever the note and key signified, his top priority right then was to take care of the raging erection that was trying to poke a hole in his belly. He wanted to feel ashamed of what he was about to do, but he figured housekeeping had probably seen worse than sheets covered with dried come.
Indeed, it didn’t take long. He was too far gone for that. His shifting body bunched up the sheet, releasing a hint of the absent man’s scent into the air. Breathing deeply, Brian indulged in the spicy tang of what was probably some expensive European cologne. Or maybe it was just the man’s own unique scent. Whatever it was, it worked for him. His fingers became a teasing tongue, the palm of his hand an enveloping mouth as he worked up and down his shaft.
“Yessssss.” Brian groaned as his balls drew up into his groin. He could just imagine how the flat of the man’s tongue would toy mercilessly with the wrinkled sac and used his other hand to mimic the sensation. His climax came on so suddenly, it caught him off guard. “Nggg!!!” Thick streams of white heat landed on his stomach and chest, a few spurts even hitting him in his chin. For one blinding instant, Brian deeply regretted that he didn’t know the man’s name, because that would have been the perfect moment to shout it out loud.
Brian collapsed into the mattress, one hand still wrapped around his softening cock, the other resting heavily on his heaving chest. Slowly, his breathing and his heartbeat calmed into a more normal rhythm as sleep tugged at him again. But the sky visible through the window had already begun to lighten. His shift started at nine, and he’d be damned if he showed up at work in the same clothes he’d been wearing the previous day. He’d never hear the end of it.
Dragging himself reluctantly from the bed, Brian shuffled toward the bathroom for a much-needed shower. A flick of the wall switch turned on the bathroom light, and a quick glance down at his torso showed him just how huge a mess he had made of himself. “Ugh.” Shaking his head in disgust, he caught sight of a mark just above his right pelvic bone. It was darker than he was, the light-brown of his skin hiding any redness. The remembered sensation of warm lips sucking at his hip made him shiver. Brian suddenly recalled how the blond man had kissed him there right after swallowing every drop of his come. His cheeks flamed as he realized that, if anything, he’d shot even more of a load into the other man’s mouth than he just had over himself.
Stop acting like a freakin’ girl. They were both men, and sex between men was messy. Big deal. Growling in disgust at his own embarrassment, he headed toward the stand-alone shower and turned on the hot water. The bathroom was decadently large, and there was a separate tub situated next to the shower. Brian wondered idly if anyone ever actually used the tubs in hotel rooms. He told himself that he was studiously avoiding looking at himself in the mirror because he was in a hurry. Steam quickly began to fog over the cool surface, happily obliterating any unwanted reflection. Not that he was fooling anyone. He probably looked like he’d been royally fucked and had enjoyed every minute. The water was just short of scalding as he stepped into the stall, the glass door closing him off in a world of misty heat. Telling himself to stop procrastinating, Brian snatched up the complimentary bar of soap from the holder bolted into the wall.
For whatever reason, Dennis chose that moment to unexpectedly come to mind. His best friend since they were both in diapers, Dennis had become his boyfriend in high school mostly because they were the only gay boys they knew, having come out to each other during their second year of middle school. He and Dennis had kept each other sane through those long years of high school, offering much-needed sympathy when the lying and sneaking around became too much. They had been each other’s refuge when a stupidly forgotten magazine in his case and an ill-hidden video in Dennis’s resulted in nearly identical scenes of crying mothers and irate fathers. Only Dennis had been able to understand how hurt Brian had been at his parents’ inability to accept his sexuality, particularly since, as an interracial couple, they had experienced their own share of intolerance. Almost inevitably, they had been each other’s first, their pleasure coming from familiarity and habit rather than any real passion.
Nothing he’d experienced with Dennis had remotely prepared Brian for what he’d just experienced with the German stranger, with his easy manner and a killer smile that made Brian melt into his shoes. Dennis’s memory was no match for the man who had so thoroughly destroyed him with nothing more than a clever tongue. Brian clung desperately to the memory of his best friend as thoughts of the blond threatened to sweep them away.
Whatever hadn’t been washed was just going to have to wait. Brian pushed open the stall door and stumbled out after the outward rush of billowing steam. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he rushed out of the bathroom. He applied it haphazardly before throwing on his clothes, unable to feel the proper concern over what the large wet spots he was transferring to the fabric of his shirt and pants would likely do to them.
Brian told himself that he was in a hurry simply because he wanted to get home and change before going into work. Yeah, right. He grumbled at his annoying inner voice to shut up. Sitting on the bed, he reached for his shoes, his fingers making a hash of tying the laces as he tried to complete the task at record speed. He promised himself that next time he got picked up in a bar he’d wear loafers so he could make a faster escape. After lowering the final foot to the floor, he glanced at the nightstand to see if he’d forgotten anything, and of course, the first thing he saw was the note and the key card.
Laughing blue eyes that caressed him with a glance, a softly accented voice that dripped with confidence and innuendo, a touch that seemed to burn his skin…. A flood of remembered sensations threatened to set up permanent camp in his brain. I must be losing my mind, he moaned to himself. Either that or the blond had laid some goddamned old world mojo on him. Berating himself for such an idiotic thought, Brian stood and started to walk away from the bed. A second later, he turned back and pocketed the note and the key card, calling himself a hundred kinds of fool.
The door of the suite closed behind him with a soft snick. Brian took a deep breath as he stood in the hallway, allowing the astringent odor of carpet cleaner to overpower the scent of sex that lingered in his nose. “That was really fucking stupid, Macon.” Brian swore to himself right then that he’d never make use of the key card. Besides, the man would probably be checking out soon. Who could afford to stay in a place like this more than a few days? “Might as well take a souvenir in case I ever think of doing something this dumb again. Let tall, blond, and charming pay the lost key fee.” After all, it was his fault for dropping such a tempting hint.
Brian refused to answer the inner voice that urged him to take the man up on it.
ANGELA looked up at the squeak of a chair across the industrial tiled floor. Brian tried to ignore the silent weight of her gaze as he sat at his desk, which was situated facing hers, and turned on his computer. She’d been his partner during his entire six years in Homicide. She was fifteen years his senior, tough as nails, and as smart as a whip. A fact he wasn’t entirely grateful for when a knowing smirk spread across her face.
“Did the toxicology screen on that kid come back yet?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral. “It was due yesterday.”
The kid had been found in a downtown back alley a couple of weeks ago, and they needed to know if the coroner had determined the cause of death. He always hated cases with young victims, their lifeless bodies a mockery of the natural order of things: the young weren’t supposed to die while leaving the old to mourn them. Plus, the girl had been raped before her death, or maybe even after, so he was eager for any information that might lead them to her killer. Not that he was all that hopeful, given the frequency and anonymity of drug-related deaths in the city.
Unfortunately, Angela wasn’t fooled by his dodge. The surprisingly firm skin around her dark green eyes crinkled as her smile got bigger and more annoying. “It was Ecstasy cut with something nasty, just as we thought. Meaning we’ll probably never figure out where she got the stuff. ‘E’ dealers are a dime a dozen.”
“Great.”
She continued to grin at him, her gaze never leaving his face. Brian tried to ignore her while his ancient computer booted up, but her silent amusement soon got under his skin just like she meant it to. “Okay, what?”
“You sure seem perky this morning. What did you do, try a new brand of coffee?” Her eyes widened in mock surprise when he reddened right on cue. “No! Don’t tell me you actually found a use for those condoms I gave you for your birthday last year?”
“Macon! Lovell! In my office now.”
Saved by the yell, Brian thought.
Angela quirked an eyebrow at him when he pushed back his chair faster than was strictly necessary. “Don’t think you’ve put me off, partner. I am a detective, after all.”
Brian smiled despite himself when she tapped a finger to the side of her nose.
“I said now!”
“Ah, the dulcet tones of our lovely captain. Let’s go see what’s got her panties in a bunch today.”
Angela made no secret of the fact that Captain Hayley Preston was not her favorite person, and Brian couldn’t say that he disagreed. At thirty-seven, she was one of the youngest captains on the force and one of the even fewer women who had managed to attain that rank. From the day she’d arrived to take charge of Homicide, she’d made it clear that Brian was on her permanent shit list for no apparent reason. He couldn’t remember ever doing anything in particular to get on her bad side, but hell, you couldn’t please everyone.
Brian and Angela both avoided looking in the direction of a certain desk that sat nearest the captain’s office. They weren’t any more successful at avoiding the notice of the man sitting there than they ever were.
“Pleasant morning, isn’t it?” Matt Roddy, Captain Preston’s personal toady, smirked at them as they passed his desk. The captain was clearly in a foul mood, and he smelled blood. Beady gray eyes nearly glowed with malicious pleasure, anticipating what was sure to be a decidedly unpleasant experience for them.
“Good morning, Ratty,” Angela replied. She blew him a kiss and slammed the door of the captain’s office in his face, denying him the pleasure of witnessing their meeting. Brian greatly admired her refusal to take shit from anyone.
“Don’t bother sitting down. You won’t be here long.” A file slid across the captain’s desk, scattering a few neatly stacked papers in its wake. It was distressingly thick.
Brian looked up reluctantly and winced as he met a fiery, sherry-brown glare. Hayley Preston was drop-dead gorgeous. Even though he was gay, he still appreciated her physical appeal. Flowing black hair and a tint to her skin hinted at exotic origins she’d never revealed. Her eyes were an arresting shade of liquid brown, her lips full and pouting, and on top of all of that, she had the body of a swimsuit model. Preston was the total package.
When he’d first met her, Brian had been catty enough to wonder if she’d slept her way into her lofty position, but he knew now it had been a grossly unfair assessment. The captain was smart and very good at her job. She’d been the one to crack the case of the serial killer that had terrorized the city for months several years ago. No one else had even come close to putting together all of the clues, not even the hotshot Feds the mayor called in to help the local police. Which was probably why she was so annoyed that he and Angela had been less than successful at closing the book on the multiple mob murders that were giving the media daily boners.
“Yet another body for your collection, ladies and gents.” Hayley shot Angela a narrow-eyed glare when the older woman sighed and reached for the file.
“Who now?” Brian asked.
“Another member of Cosmino. But this time, it’s not just one of the foot soldiers.”
That the victim was from Cosmino wasn’t a surprise. All of the bodies that had matched the murder profile had been from that organization. They all knew what that meant, and none of them were thrilled by the prospect.
“Goddamn mob warfare,” Angela mumbled under her breath.
“Indeed.” The captain sat back in her chair and folded her long legs as she rested her arms comfortably along the armrests. A heeled shoe swung from one elegant foot as she moved it back and forth. “Do I need to draw you a diagram?” Long, slender fingers tipped with ruby red nails flicked dismissively in their direction. “Off you go, children. And you’d better fucking bring me something useful this time.”
