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She was exactly that bad. The bedrooms were darling, the bathrooms were darling, the front porch was darling, the balcony was—you guessed it—darling. If I’d slit my own damn throat right there in the model home’s spacious kitchen, she would’ve said my blood pattern was just darling.
Half-hard dick became rock-hard dick in the span of a few more licks.
“No, it’s okay.” His tone said it was very much not okay. “I forgot we fuck for audiences now.”
Just when I was about to ask if we’d found the road to Narnia—and just where the hell was the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe—Mason inhaled swiftly.
He was a loveable asshole who’d I’d originally had a lot of friction with, but he was growing on me slowly, just like any good fungus.
“Sorry. We were just trying to respect your process. Are you making… you know, contact?” Yes, with the Starship Enterprise. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep in any smartass comments.
“What the hell kind of dinosaur is this?” Or touched. I reached over and plucked it from his hands. “A Mind Your Own Business-osaur. descendent of the What’s It To Ya’ Rex,” I informed him tartly.
Didn’t Danny know the rules? You always side with the guy who warms up the lube before he jams it in your ass.
Limiting my coffee intake was a good way to get piping hot green tea dumped all over your lap, and his twinkling eyes said he knew that well. It was just too damned bad I needed everything he had south of the border.
Hell, maybe we were on the wrong track after all and he wasn’t at the bottom of the lake. Maybe someone just turned him into a fucking Care Bear. Maybe right this moment, he was on some little girl’s shelf with a smiley face patch glued to his belly.
“Last time I checked, we’re cops. We can’t turn down donuts. People will talk, Daniel.”
“So what’s next on the schedule?” Mason asked. “Unfortunately for me, you collected wives like some people collect Pokémon cards, so I need to speak to the rest of them today. I’d like to know if one of them slit your throat for being so very gay.”
Can’t a man give his boyfriend a blow job on his own sink without it being front page news in the Washington Ghost?
She talked about finding out that he was gay from a member of her church who worried for his soul. She indignantly told that church member that he’d go to hell for being a gossipy twit far before Mason ever would, and then prayed for forgiveness later.
“God, I love the way you do that. It’s like your mouth is made for sucking cock.”
“If I could say it better than Hallmark, I wouldn’t have spent almost five bucks on a card.”
Danny was the worst of the bunch, so punctual he abhorred earliness as much as he did lateness. He’d probably arrived at 4:59. I was pretty sure he had a clock up his ass. I still hadn’t found it yet with my fingers or my dick, but I was dedicated to the search.
I was pretty sure every man in the room wanted to shield his junk protectively. Even if he had been an unruly suspect, her words created an impromptu moment of silence… in the name of balls.
“So what’re we going to do?” “Same thing we always do. Get in the Mystery Machine and solve crime, Scooby.”
“Just so you know, I would be Velma. You would be Scooby.” “I think I’m more of a Fred, really.” “Everyone knows Fred and Daphne were fucking like rabbits. You sure you’re up to that?” He paused. “Maybe I’ll just be Shaggy.” “Like, Zoinks, that’s a good call, Irish.”
“You know, if you need an evil cat and pinky ring, I can’t recommend Amazon Prime enough.” I looked at my reflection in the glass. All the chin stroking did make me look a bit villain-like. I dropped my hand, but not before I gave him the finger.
