“That’s why I quit. The rules I’d learned to do business by were fading out. If you weren’t leaving a body count, people didn’t take you seriously. And if your competition couldn’t intimidate you, they went after your clients.
“I was a businessman, providing a service. It was bad enough when I had to worry about my own ass, but when the people I worked for were threatened, I took it personal.”
Another vehicle turned onto the road in front of Morgan’s house. This time the engine lacked the smooth hum of a car or truck. The heavy chug of thick tire tread chased the single headlight to the other end of the street. Then the wind shifted and the putrid earthy smell of chicken shit overrode the spicy fall leaves.
Not long after, the tractor was out of earshot and the smell went with it.
“Did you go to jail?”
“First rule in shipping is to make sure you always had your paperwork in order. Second rule, make sure your client does too. And I am damn good at paperwork and balancing a checkbook, and paying all my taxes.”
“Then why did you come to Durstrand?”
“About four to five years ago, I met a guy. He wanted a job. I gave him a job. I liked him, he liked me, so it was no surprise when we wound up in bed together. Then things went from occasional, to casual, then serious.”
“Did something bad happen to him?” Morgan’s exhale warmed my arm. I extended my fingers and found the edge of his elbow.
“At first I thought he was married, or had kids and was running from child support. Then I wondered if he was trying to steal from me, but he never skimmed any money, even when I gave him the chance. He turned out to be FBI.
“He was good at playing the part. I let my guard down, and it almost got people killed.” No matter how pissed I was at Jeff and his damn blue eyes, the truth was I was solely to blame. “There’s another rule when you do this kind of work. I don’t know if Eugene ever told me or if it was just something I picked up from being in his circle, but you didn’t piss off the authorities. You treated them with respect. You never gave them a reason to have a grudge. But if they crossed you. If they fucked with your people, not the merchandise, shit can be replaced, but the people who were your bread and butter and relied on you for your confidence, you dealt with them.
“Clean, quick, and with no trace it was ever done, you dealt with them. People would know, but there would never be anything left to prove what you'd done or how. And that can be scarier than a body.”
I curled my fingers into a fist. Somehow it felt wrong to touch Morgan now. I was soiled. “I should have. If he’d just gone back to where he belonged, it would have blown over and no one would have known. But his superiors convinced him to set up a shipment or two under the guise of him going into business on his own.
“Fucking idiot. He called a couple of people he knew I had contact with and pushed them into a job by being willing to do it cheap. Stupidity is only outdone by greed when it comes to the number one cause of death.
“One of my competitors got wind Jeff was underselling me, which meant he was underselling them even more, they took it personal, the client got involved, so did their kids. Bullets got thrown around, innocent people died. I got in the middle of it all, trying to fix what he fucked up.”
“Is that how you got shot?” Morgan turned. His chest pressed against my arm, and his touch slid over my shirt. He rubbed the scar under my pec. The hypersensitive nerves tingled with electricity while the surrounding skin went numb.
I caught his hand. Not to push him away but to keep him there. I wanted him to touch me other places, but I hadn’t earned that right back. There was a good chance I never would.
“Like I said, number one cause of death.” Morgan sat back. I cleared my throat. “Jeff got between one of the shooters and the client’s little girl. He knew he would die, but he did it anyhow, and if he was dead, I couldn’t get the pound of flesh he owed me.”
I’d like to think the deal wouldn’t have gone bad if Jeff hadn’t agreed to pick up the goods at the client’s house. It would have. Jeff might not have been in the middle of it and neither would I, but Marx was already there with a gun to the man’s head.
I would have never agreed to meet a client in their home, and my customers knew that, so they would have never asked.
“Who shot you?”
“A very angry guy with a really ugly mug.”
Morgan laughed, and in spite of the tangled knot growing ever larger in my gut, I laughed too. Then we fell quiet and there was only the night, the frogs, and that one lone dog off in the distance.
“After he disappeared from the community, rumors spread about his demise. I never told anyone who he was. It was safer for people to think he’d paid for disloyalty with a bullet to the head.”
“Who were the men in the Bronco?”
“If I had to guess, FBI.”
“Are they following you?”
“Apparently.”
“But you made it sound like they couldn’t arrest you.”
“Which is exactly why they’re only following me.”
“What do they want?”
“Information. Names. Dates. Locations. The measurements of my dick.”
“Nine and three quarters.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nine and three quarters.”
“My dick is not ten inches long.”
“No, I said nine and three quarters.”
“Even I’m not that self-inflated.”
“Have you ever measured it?”
For fear of setting off Morgan’s bullshit o-meter, I had to fess up. “Just under eight and a half.”
“When?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, if you did it before the age of twenty, you probably gained an inch.”
“My dick is not… okay, even if it was, when did you measure it?”
“I had it in my ass. I think I would know.”
“Is this where you tell me everyone has a built in ruler and all I need to do is bend over so you can show me how to use mine?”
Morgan snorted. “No, but we can test that theory if you want.”
If I said anything but hell yeah, it would have been a five-alarm bullshit fire. “My dick is not that big.” And as soon as I got the chance, I was whipping out the tape measure to prove it.
“Okay, you got me, it has nothing to do with it being in my ass and everything to do with the length of your hand, minus the width of your face, plus the length of your nose.”
In high school art class, we’d been taught how to know the proportions of the human body. Fingertip to fingertip, height. Ears from the corner of the eye to the nose. Corners of the mouth to the center of each eye and so on.
It sounded plausible.
I put my thumb on the heel of my hand and measured to my fingertips. Then I guestimated the width of my face, then my nose which was right at the same size as my thumb.
“Done measuring?”
I’d made sure to move quietly, but I think if I’d been on the other side of a wall he would have heard me. “Yeah.”
“Well?”
I measured again.
“Statistically if you have to measure more than once, it means you need to cut your first answer in half.”
“In half?”
“Defensiveness suggests you’re trying to make up what you lost, which means you need to take off at least another quarter.”
“If that’s the case, I just went from ten inches to one and a half.”
“You probably measured your head wrong.”
“I would have had to measure it wrong three times over. Hell, by your calculations, my head would have to be so big that I couldn’t fit through the front…” I had the insane urge to put my goddamned hand in the air and point to the sky. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”
“Only a little.”
“How come I fall for your shit? You’re not even a good liar and you get me ever
y fucking time.”
“You underestimate me.”
Morgan was right. “I’d apologize, but I think I’ve run out of my quota for the year.”
He chuckled. “It’s okay. Everyone does. I’m used to it.”
And that was wrong because of why it happened. “I don’t want to be everyone else.”
Morgan’s arm jerked, and his elbow grazed my bicep. He snapped his fingers, and in the dark, his fingers were a fluttering blur next to his head.
“Mor—”
“How come you picked Durstrand?” He jerked again. “I’m assuming you made a lot of money and you can probably go anywhere you want, but you came here. No one with money wants to live here unless there’s a reason.” A small sound was pulled from him with another tic. “And how long were you going to stay? Since you don’t have a reason to stay, it can’t be too long. But it has to be more than a year since you bought the Anderson house. As long as it’s going to take you to fix it up, two years would be pointless. So is it three or four years?”
I struggled to swallow. “I don’t know for sure.”
His breath shuddered. “My guess would be three years. So why would you come somewhere you don’t want to be and commit yourself to staying for three years when you could live anywhere you wanted? And where is it you want to live, Grant? Where do you dream of being for the rest of your life? What do you dream of waking up to every morning? Mountains, valleys, desert?”
“The ocean.” The confession left a pain in my heart.
“But not just any beach. Someone who ships expensive stolen cars, pisses off the FBI, and gets shot would want a special beach. Somewhere far away and out of jurisdiction of the people who could cause him a problem. I’d say Tahiti, but that just seems cliché. So where were you thinking?”
“Maldives or Seychelles.”
Morgan sighed. “I think I’ve seen pictures of Seychelles. Very pretty.” He shifted, and it left a gap where we’d been touching. It was only an inch at the most, but it might as well have been miles. “You should be really happy there.”
I used to be sure I would. But that was before I had any real idea about what happiness was. Granted, it was only a taste. Just a few precious drops. But what I’d been given in my time with Morgan amounted to more than I’d ever drank from the first thirty-odd years of my life.
Morgan stood, and the wooden slats squeaked. “Grant?”
“Yeah.”
“Would you mind staying the night?”
I sat up. “You sure?”
“You don’t plan on staying around. You’re just doing something to fill the space in between now and Seychelles. I get that. But I figured, you know, when you’re not working on the old Anderson place and playing tag with your FBI groupies, you might want to do something recreational like fucking me. But if you’d rather watch TV or do crossword puzzles, I understand.”
“I don’t have a TV, and I hate crossword puzzles.”
“I never cared for them either. Both, I mean. TV and crosswords. Have you ever really looked at the questions they come up with on those things? Wonder how much they pay someone to do that job? And is it by the hour, or the word?” The screen door squeaked. “I’ve gotta brush my teeth, and then I guess I’ll meet you in my room. Don’t take too long, or I’ll start without you.” The wood frame knocked against the jamb and then immediately squeaked again. “Oh, and there’s an extra toothbrush that I bought for a dime at the dollar store in the medicine cabinet. You can’t miss it. It has Kermit the frog on the handle. Not very manly, but at least your breath won’t taste like garlic. Not that I mind garlic but sometimes the other spices I use in my pizza sauce will irritate my dick so make sure you brush all the way to the back of your throat.
“And I mean it when I say I’ll start without you, so don’t dawdle.”
The door shut again, and a light clicked on in the dining room, muting the stars. A few minutes later, it clicked off, the next break in the darkness came when he turned on his bedroom light.
I went inside and disposed of my beer bottle before hitting the john and stuck the smiling face of a legendary Muppet in my mouth so I wouldn’t leave a rash on Morgan’s cock.
When I got to his room, Morgan was propped up against the headboard, knees bent, feet flat on the bed and his cock in his hand.
There was a bottle of lube and fresh box of condoms on the bedside table. He hadn’t just opened the box, he’d taken one of the rubbers out of the package.
“I get this feeling that you’re in a hurry.”
“Been thinking of your mouth since the cookie aisle.”
“Cookies make you horny?”
“No, your mouth makes me horny. We just happened to be in the cookie aisle when I started fantasizing.” Morgan moaned.
I took off my shirt. “You sure you need me? You seem like you’re doing fine on your own.”
“I told I would start without you.”
“I didn’t take that long.”
“Long enough.” He rolled the foreskin over the tip in short slow strokes. Fluid coating the wrinkles of skin glistened in the lamplight.
I shed my jeans and boxers. Morgan raked a look over me and licked his lips.
“Fucking hell, Morgan, I could come just watching you.”
His mouth curled. “Is that a challenge?”
Was it?
Morgan gripped the iron bed frame with his free hand and arched his back. The perfect curve of his body popped his hips, spread his legs wider, and pushed his knees to the mattress. His head fell back, and the column of his neck almost brought the top of his head to his toes.
“You ever bend the other way and suck your own dick?” I stroked my cock.
“How do you think I got so good at it?” Morgan spread himself out on his back and pulled his knees to his chest flashing me with the tight circle of his puckered hole.
I ached to bury myself.
Morgan spread his thighs and effortlessly folded himself in half.
I climbed on the end of the bed. Morgan watched me through the space between his legs. The head of his cock rested on his chin. He smiled at me when I moved up.
“You better get comfortable.” He picked up his head and took his cock into his mouth.
“Holy fuck, Morgan.” I smoothed my hands over his ass. Morgan hummed on the upstroke. His lips were so tight that he barely left any saliva behind. Then he flexed his hips, giving enough bend for him push his dick all the way to the back of his throat. His gaze met mine, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I don’t think I’d ever been so jealous about a blowjob in my life.
Heat spread over my cheeks and ran down my chest.
At the tip again, he tongued his slit. I lowered myself down and licked a line up his taint to his balls. A shudder ran through Morgan’s thighs so I did it again.
His heavy sac pulled tight, and I took one of his balls into my mouth. Morgan’s eyes widened. I moved to the other, and he sucked his cock to the back of his throat.
I leaned back enough to grab the lubricant.
“I’m going to use my fingers on you.” I made a show of pouring the oil over my fingertips. It made glistening trails all the way to my palm. I dribbled more over Morgan’s hole. It constricted, and his balls pulled tight again. “Gonna start with one, then maybe two. If you sing pretty for me, I might even give you my cock.” I licked the base of his dick and met his mouth at the head. Morgan slipped his tongue across mine and fed me the subtle salt of precum.
I spiraled my finger over his entrance until I was at the center, then pushed. Morgan’s breath went faster with every inch. I pulled back slow, and he whimpered into my mouth.
I broke the kiss and lapped at the head of his dick. “Blow yourself, Morgan, I want to watch you suck your cock.”
He didn’t hesitate. Morgan bobbed his head, and I thrust my finger. The pink in his cheeks darkened and tears pricked the corner of his eyes. I raked my teeth over his nut sac and fondled them
with my tongue.
“Gonna give you two now.” I wasn’t even sure if he heard me. His hole contracted hard enough to pull at my fingers. I sank them in one push. Morgan released his cock and cried out.
His hips fell enough that I was able to catch the head of his cock in my mouth. I sucked him all the way to the back of my throat and filled his ass with the full length of my fingers again. Morgan dropped his legs over my shoulders, pinning my head between the muscles of his thighs and proceeded to thrust.
“God, Grant. More. Need more…” A wanton cry preceded every pump of his hips. I pushed deeper and faster. “Yeah, yeah, like that…” Morgan pulled the tip of his cock to my lips so only the first few inches filled my mouth and thrust in rapid fire. “Suck, suck hard.” I did, and he threw back his head and yelled. “More…”
There was no way I could finger-fuck him faster. I added a third.
Morgan yanked the headboard hard enough to rattle the bed. “Close…” He inhaled so deep his chest swelled until his ribs made lines under his skin. “Relax your throat… now, Grant, now.”
I leaned forward so he’d feel me pull my tongue back. Morgan dug his heels into the space between my shoulder blades and forced my head down by locking his thighs. His cock hit the back of my throat.
I struggled to breathe out of my nose and not lose rhythm.
His thrusts slowed for a moment. I wasn’t sure if the change of pace was for my benefit or his. Then his eyes darkened with heated need. I held his gaze and hummed.
Morgan withdrew to the tip again, then shoved his cock past the back of my tongue with the same kind of rapid thrusts he’d done with the tip.
I knew then what was really meant by the phrase, fucking like rabbits.
“Gonna…” Morgan keened. “Gonna come…” He slung his head. Golden locks heavy with sweat slapped his cheeks. “Gonna come, Grant, almost, almost…” His legs tightened hard enough to make my ears ring. “Oh God…” His thrusts faltered, and a wash of hot cum pumped from his cock, filling my mouth. “Yes…yes…”
A wave of tremors ran down Morgan’s body, leaving him collapsed on the mattress. His grip on my head loosened until his legs went limp and slid over my shoulders. I continued sliding my mouth over his throbbing cock, tonguing the folds of foreskin until there was nothing left.
In The Absence Of Light Page 14