The Mermaid Murders (The Art of Murder 1) - Page 63

.”

Jason spluttered. “And you may actually have a sense of humor.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Kennedy was grinning, though, as he lowered himself on the mattress.

The next few minutes passed in pleasurable physical contact. Kennedy might not be much for mouth-to-mouth, but he was definitely an orally fixated kind of guy. There was not a sensitive part of Jason’s upper body that didn’t receive the moist attentions of Kennedy’s mouth. Nothing like someone nibbling on your ears or licking your nipples to distract you from your worries—not that it didn’t create its own set of uncertainties.

“Yeah, very pretty,” Kennedy murmured, nuzzling the inside curve of Jason’s elbow. And even that…who would have thought the elbows were an erogenous zone?

Kennedy was kind of a one man sensual onslaught. Jason was flushed and out of breath by the time he rolled onto his belly, trying to give himself a few seconds to get control of his voice and face.

Kennedy kissed the nape of his neck, brushing the curls away, and Jason shivered.

“I’ll warm you up,” Kennedy promised, and his lips traveled slowly, deliberately down Jason’s spine, grazing every link of vertebrae right down to the small of Jason’s back where he lingered, nuzzling. Jason swallowed hard. No lie, his skin felt warm everywhere Kennedy’s mouth touched.

“That feels really…”

“Yes, it does.” There was a smile in Kennedy’s voice.

Jason jumped and then closed his eyes, willing himself to relax as something slick and wet on the point of Kennedy’s finger invaded his anus.

“That okay?” Kennedy asked, and to his credit it wasn’t just rhetorical. He was waiting for a response, very delicately stroking, delivering little shocks of pleasure with each press.

“That’s…yeah. Nice.” Jason’s breath caught as Kennedy’s finger changed angle, pressed harder.

“I like doing this to you,” Kennedy murmured. “I’ll be remembering what it feels like to touch you this way every time I see you tomorrow.”

Jason moaned. I’ll be in Boston. But that wasn’t the point. He couldn’t hide in Boston forever, and it was going to be hard for him to see Kennedy and not think the same thing.

He risked another glance at the mirror, and Christ almighty, that was just…wanton. The way he was moving into Kennedy’s touch, his expression of flushed and feverish longing. There was naked and then there was that.

He closed his eyes, but not before he saw Kennedy’s face.

Kennedy looked as intent and absorbed as a predator about to pounce. Not lost in the moment like Jason, or at least not in the same way. All his attention was on Jason, gauging, judging, so he noticed Jason’s moment of distraction, followed Jason’s glance, saw their reflection in the mirror, and smiled.

He moved his fingers—what the hell?—and Jason arched a little and made a sound he was pretty sure he had never uttered before.

Kennedy obviously spent his off-time doing more than attending George Winston concerts because you did not learn that move by practicing on yourself. Or if you did, Jason wanted to know how.

Kennedy twisted his fingers again and Jason squirmed, feeling that thrill of fierce and pleasurable sensation in his belly.

It was too much. One more of those and he was going to come right now. “Wait,” he panted. “Don’t…”

Kennedy didn’t wait, but his touch instantly changed, soothed, bringing Jason back from the edge, steadying him.

“Whoa. Slow down,” he whispered. “Wait for me.”

Jason closed his eyes, focusing, shutting his mind to all but prolonging this sweet physical reaction.

Kennedy’s weight settled on top of him. He was big, but he was surprisingly lithe, and his cock—condom, okay that’s good—rudely poked Jason in a couple of vulnerable spots before lodging between Jason’s buttocks. A pleasurable compromise if that’s what Jason wanted.

Jason’s heart seemed to swell. Take it. Don’t risk this; don’t get any closer than you are now. It just wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Wanted all of it. Everything.

He breathed slowly and consciously relaxed, lifting up in offer. Kennedy’s dick slipped, nudged him eagerly.

“Oh yeah,” Kennedy groaned. “This is what I want.” And just like that, his thick cock pushed inside Jason, stretching him wide with a lush and sensuous ease that felt unexpectedly right, familiar.

Jason cried out in pleasure—he had always been vocal, if not always articulate, and this was just too good to smother—and Kennedy made a low sound of amusement and kissed his shoulder.

Tags: Josh Lanyon The Art of Murder Mystery
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