Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
An animalistic sound escaped me, devoid of words. I tried pulling out of Matt’s mouth, but he grabbed my legs and locked me in.
I exploded. It was an orgasm that left me feeling as if I’d been tossed around the room like a rag doll, and Matt had swallowed every last drop of it. He even licked up the still leaking tip as I pulled out, stepping back and taking a deep breath. I wanted to encase this moment in a globe of amber, allowing absolutely nothing to change.
I wanted Matt’s sweaty and flushed body lying on my bed at all times, his eyes still hungrily eating me up. I wanted to be locked in this room for the rest of my life, taking in the sweet scents of our sex, still trembling over the way Matt’s body felt under my touch. Keep it so that it was just us forever.
“Damn,” Matt said, breathless. He got up and kissed me. My taste coated his tongue, and I could smell myself on him, too. I held him against me. Our cocks, still swollen and wet, pressed against each other. I kissed his neck, rubbed his back, traced circles with my tongue against his tan skin, and for the hundredth time that night, I didn’t want anything to ever change.
I knew it had to, though. We couldn’t keep things hidden anymore.
Something had to change, and someone was likely to break.
Tomorrow. I’ll think about it all tomorrow.
For now, I let myself sink back into the amber, back into Matt’s arms. We went to sleep like that, wrapped up in tangled sheets, naked and warm and happy. My dreams were all tinted gold that night.
Fuuuuck, last night was crazy.
It was all I could keep thinking about, even as I pulled up to Colton’s beat-up shack of a house, the sun sitting directly above me like a spotlight shining down and highlighting all of my sins.
And I’d sin again. And again. Annnnd again.
Which was why I needed to calm down. Being with Matt last night was unexpected and exhilarating and everything I didn’t know I needed. It also needed to stop. It couldn’t happen again. Not until we spoke to Harry and figured out the situation there. I didn’t want to revert back to our old ways, when we kept things secret even though the post-sex glow on me was enough to light up the dark side of the moon.
I parked between a rusted red pickup truck and a van that looked specifically made to offer candy to children. I hadn’t given Colton any heads-up about my visit, wanting to use the element of surprise to try and corner him into an interview. He’d been denying all the calls and emails and letters we had sent. At one point, I’d jokingly told Darrien we would need to send Houston with a note tied to his leg and hopefully that would work.
I spared the cockatoo some work and decided I’d show up myself.
Colton’s house was located in the Blades, an appropriately named area of town that was home to Honey and Wood, a strip club that had actually garnered a lot of attention and brought in people from all over. I could see the billboard advertising the dancers through a tangled jungle of electrical cables dangling from one leaning post to another.
I climbed the creaking porch steps and stopped in front of the torn-up screen door. One hand rested on my concealed carry, the other knocked on the wood-rotted blue door. I half expected my fist to break through the wood.
Immediately, I heard shuffling from inside the house. Someone was home. I knocked again, hearing more shuffling. Someone came up right behind the door. I took a step back, seeing a shadow cross over the peephole.
The door opened just an inch, barely enough for me to even see who was behind it.
“What do you want?” someone asked. It was an older woman, her voice cracking after years of smoking. “I ain’t got no money to give you.”
“I’m just looking for someone. Colton Majors. Is he here?”
The door slammed shut. I opened the screen partition and knocked. One more time, harder than the last.
The door creaked back open. “He’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“Six feet under, that’s where.” She went to close the door again, but I stuck my foot out, stopping her from shutting it completely.
“What exactly do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s dead. Dead! He’s gone. Not here, dead. There, happy? He overdosed and died. Now go!”
She pressed her entire body weight, which must not have been very much, against the door. My shoe barely budged, but I could tell I wasn’t getting any more from her. The news was already a shock—if it was true. I’d need to see a death certificate before I blindly believed my prime suspect ODed. It would explain why we hadn’t gotten any answers from him, even refusals to meet, but still, proof was needed.