Holy every-expletive-known-to-man.
I tried to say something, but it came out like a half-assed grunt.
“Filthy enough?” Jun asked.
I started laughing. I’d shot my load on his face, he was licking it off, and had to ask if it was filthy enough? “What do you think?”
Jun smiled.
I slowly sat up, gripping his biceps. “I think we work pretty well together.”
He nodded and curled a hand around my cheek and jaw. Jun leaned close and kissed me, sharing the taste of myself. “I’ve waited a long time to do that,” he whispered.
“You know what they say about delayed gratification.”
Jun chuckled. “Three years of wanting to blow you is pushing it, and I’m a patient man.”
“I plan to test every ounce of patience you have,” I murmured. “I’ll make you putty in my hands.”
Jun’s lips parted, and he kissed me a bit harder, our tongues twining together briefly before he finally pulled back. “I should shower.”
“I should clean the counter.”
He laughed and went to fetch my discarded pants.
I hopped down, taking the offered clothing. “I’ll start breakfast while you clean up.”
“Okay.” He combed his fingers through my hair and left the kitchen.
I stood still, listening as Jun’s footsteps vanished up the stairs, and I was left alone in the kitchen to fan my face with a pot holder. Nothing like a morning romp to get the blood pumping.
I scrubbed the counter clean of sweat and any wayward cum shots while eyeing my phone in its bright pink case sitting beside my now-cold coffee.
Damn it.
I called the housecleaner and kept last night’s news vague—the Smith Home was closed for a few days, no need to come by. Then I called Herb and the two other part-time tour guides. I was a little more honest with them—the house was closed by the police for a few days because of intruder activity last night, and someone had been hurt. Frankly, I think they were all happy to have a few extra days off during the busy season.
Adam was the only employee I leveled with.
“A murder?” he shouted.
“Yeah.” I propped the phone between my ear and shoulder so I could rummage through the fridge. “The motion detector went off last night, but when Jun and I got there, someone had actually broken in.”
“And died,” Adam concluded.
“It was Lou Cassidy.”
“The pirate guy?”
“That’s him.”
“Oh my God. This is…. I thought this kind of stuff didn’t happen down here. Awful…,” he murmured, voice quieting on the other end.
I pulled out a few containers of berries and a big avocado from the fridge. “Whoever else had been in the house stabbed him in the chest with Smith’s marlinespike.”
“Holy…,” Adam said, sort of breathless. “God. I… I just bumped into him at the grocery store the other day. He’sreallydead?”
“Really,” I said. “I’m sorry. I know this is not the sort of phone call you want early in the morning.”
