by C. B. Lewis
Jacob brought the lights up. He looked half-asleep. “C’mere,” he murmured, motioning Kit closer.
Kit dragged himself up the bed, and Jacob curled his fingers deeper into Kit’s hair and drew Kit down to him.
“What are you doing?”
Jacob’s fingertips dragged across his scalp. “Kissing you.”
“My mouth tastes awful,” Kit warned.
“Had worse,” Jacob replied, and kissed him.
Kit sank his hands into the pillow on either side of Jacob’s head, half sprawled on top of Jacob. He knew he should leave. It would be sensible, and Jesus, Jacob was nibbling on his lower lip, and he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
It wasn’t as rushed or urgent as their previous encounters, but when Jacob pushed his hips up against Kit, and his free hand caught Kit’s arse, Kit felt the same shiver of pleasure.
“We probably shouldn’t,” Kit whispered against his lips.
“Mm.” Jacob squeezed Kit’s backside, then dragged his nails up.
Kit laughed almost breathlessly. He trailed his mouth off Jacob’s, down to his ear. “Luke’s right next door,” he murmured. “He might hear.”
“Then you’ll have to be quiet,” Jacob murmured into his hair. He slid his other hand down, both palms hooking under Kit’s arse and pulling him up over him, their cocks rubbing against each other.
Kit smothered a groan in his throat. “Like that’ll happen.”
“Mm.” Jacob guided him into rocking slowly.
Beneath him, he felt Jacob shift his legs, bracing his feet against the mattress to push up against him. His hands were wandering too, up Kit’s back then dragging lightly back down, over his buttocks.
It was sleepy and sensuous and Kit hissed through his teeth, kneading at the pillows, when Jacob’s teeth scraped against his throat. His hips stuttered, his cock hardening, and he pressed his lips to Jacob’s ear.
“Good?” Jacob murmured. The fingers of one hand were tracing the crease of Kit’s buttocks, and the other hand was slowly kneading at Kit’s backside and hip.
“Yeah….” Kit’s voice petered off as Jacob pushed his hips up, rubbing against him. Christ, his cock was hot. He started stroking more demandingly, feeling that heat rubbing against his own. “Jesus….”
Jacob’s chest shook with a low chuckle. “Keen,” he murmured, slipping one hand down between them. He wrapped his fingers around both of them, and Kit yelped when he squeezed. “Sh.” Jacob’s voice was thick with sleep and sex, and one hand was stroking them both, while two fingers were teasing around Kit’s arsehole.
Kit tugged at the pillows, rocking his hips. Back or forward? Which was better? Jesus bloody Christ, he hadn’t even had coffee yet.
He clumsily found Jacob’s mouth with his own, kissing him, their teeth clicking together as he started thrusting harder, more demandingly. He could feel Jacob laughing, deep in his chest, soft on his lips, shaking him, shaking them both.
Jacob kept teasing, almost pushing into him, but then not, almost squeezing tight enough but then not, and Kit was huffing and whimpering and squirming with frustration.
“You bastard!” he panted out. “You absolute bloody bastard!”
Jacob caught Kit’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it. His hand went still and tight around both of them, and he wasn’t moving anymore. “Ask nicely.”
“Christ!” Kit yelped “Please!”
Three things happened at once: Jacob’s hand moved on their cocks, slick with sweat and precum, while the fingers of his other hand pressed into Kit, curling and hitting just right, making his back arch and hips jerk, and his mouth caught Kit’s guttural groan.
Kit’s mind went white. The press of fingers, the heat around him, the warm, teasing lap of Jacob’s tongue was making his head spin. He sagged down on his forearms, his hips jerking helplessly, and all it took was Jacob stroking two fingers just a little harder. He gasped explosively into Jacob’s mouth as his cum spattered Jacob’s belly.
Jacob’s hand was still moving, though, and he wasn’t spent.
“Wait,” Kit panted out. “Wait, wait, wait….” He pulled himself free of Jacob’s hands and flopped down onto his side. Could go for hands, but just once, he wanted to taste him. Likely as not it was the last time they’d get the chance, and he wanted to.
He shoved himself down the bed, still breathing hard, and pushed the sheet down, down over Jacob’s hips. Jacob’s fingers were still around his cock, but Kit batted them away and sprawled over Jacob’s belly to lick at the head of his cock.
Jacob’s chest heaved under him as he swirled his tongue around the head, tasting his own cum and Jacob’s. He leaned closer and took as much of Jacob in his mouth as he could, licking, then swallowing, then dragging back, and Jacob groaned like he was dying.
“Good,” Jacob’s voice was even hoarser. His cum-spattered hand tangled into Kit’s hair, and he pushed his hips up.
Kit shifted over him, alternating licking and sucking. He dipped one hand down between Jacob’s thighs and squeezed his balls, kneading them with the same rhythm as he was using his mouth.
Jacob was close already anyway, and when Kit moved his hand onto Jacob’s shaft, it only took a few rapid strokes and licks. He never made any real noise when he came, just clenched his fist in Kit’s hair and groaned long and low.
Kit squirmed back around, cum on his lips, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “One for the road?” he guessed, propping himself on Jacob’s chest again.
Jacob stroked his fingers through Kit’s hair, gazing at him. “One for the road,” he agreed, then pulled Kit’s mouth back to his. It was a brief kiss, their lips barely grazing each other, and his thumb brushed Kit’s cheek.
“What I said last night….” Kit began, then trailed off.
“Don’t worry about it.” Jacob withdrew his hand from Kit’s hair, smoothing it down. “You need to get a shower.”
Kit winced. “Yeah. Some tit rubbed cum in my hair.”
Jacob’s soft, sleepy smile made his heart skip a beat. “Daft bugger,” he murmured drowsily. He nodded toward the door. “Go on. I’ll go and check we haven’t traumatized Luke.”
Kit felt the color surge up his face. Well, as a grace note to their relationship, embarrassing Jacob’s kid was a fine way to do it. He rolled over to the side of the bed, leaning down to find his boxers. He wiped himself down, then hopped into them and looked back over his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Jacob just smiled, tired but sated.
By the time Kit emerged from the shower, both Jacob and his son were in the kitchen, both in T-shirts and boxers.
Kit hesitated in the doorway, buttoning up his shirt. “Um. Morning.”
Father and son turned to him, and Luke’s eyebrow rose, one side of his mouth crooking in a smile that was almost as dirty as his father’s. The blush was as immediate as flicking a switch. Kit scowled down at his rosy chest as he fumbled with the buttons and wondered if it was possible to wish for the floor to open up and swallow him. “Um. So. Um. I’ll be going now.”
“You’re not staying for breakfast?” Luke asked. “I’d say you’d need your energy.”
Kit felt more than heard the squeak that escaped him.
Jacob swatted his son across the back of the head, earning a snicker from Luke, as he walked around him to get to Kit. “Ignore him,” he said. “You can go if you want to.”
Kit nodded. “Should get to the office. Might be less reporters about.”
Jacob looked at him with concern. “Yeah. Probably best.” He watched as Kit pulled his shoes and jacket on, then walked with him to the door. “You take care of yourself, you hear me?”
Kit tried to smile. “Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. Anything to stop him from grabbing Jacob and kissing him again. “We had some fun, didn’t we?”
Jacob’s dimples appeared. “I’ll say,” he agreed as he unlocked the door, opening it. “And you have
my number. If you need to talk to someone. Or whatever.”
Kit nodded, stepping out into the hall. His hands were in tight fists in his pockets, and he really didn’t want to be walking away. “Jacob,” he started, raising his eyes to the other man’s. The words stuck in his throat, and all he could do was lean closer and press one last kiss to Jacob’s lips.
Jacob touched his shoulder. “Take care.”
Kit managed a weak flick of a smile, then turned and hurried away before he changed his mind. He was in such a hurry, he didn’t see the other man standing in the hallway until he crashed squarely into him. The man stumbled, knocking against the wall.
“Shit! Sorry!” Kit exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t move!” The man held up a hand. “My contact lens!”
Kit almost asked why he didn’t just get his eyes fixed, but it wasn’t the time or place. Instead, he crouched down with the man, searching the floor. A shimmer caught his eye and he leaned over, picking up the tiny disc between his fingers.
“Huh.” He tilted it into the light. “Is this it? It looks like a digi-lens?”
The man snatched it and pulled a small case out of his pocket, rinsing it. “Yes, that’s it,” he snapped, pulling back his eyelid and putting the lens back in. Kit rose, watching him.
Digi-lenses weren’t all that common. For people who didn’t want a retinal implant or like the effort of carrying around a quill or a slate, wearing the monitor on one eyeball was an option. The only real problem with them was that they were so rigid they could pop out easily.
A glow centered over the man’s pupil, the tiny screen illuminating for him.
“Is it okay?” Kit asked hopefully. Last thing he needed was to have to pay for repairs.
“No thanks to you.” The man glared at Kit, and the colors on his eye danced and shifted, then he frowned. “You don’t live around here.”
“No.” Kit jerked his thumb toward the stairs. “I was just leaving.”
The man glanced along the hall. “You’re a friend of Jake’s?”
Kit shrugged. “I know him and his son.” He stepped around the man. “Excuse me.”
It wasn’t until he was sitting on the tram that he started wondering why a man with such a high-tech lens was skulking around in the halls of Jacob’s building. Jacob wasn’t living in a high-end part of the city. Even people who were well-off didn’t really bother with those kind of lenses anyway. And come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anyone else calling Jacob “Jake.” He didn’t seem the type who would like it.
He took out his quill to let Jacob know about the encounter, especially the fact that those lenses were often used for keeping a discreet eye on people. If they had followed him, fair enough, but most of the reporters chasing the TRI story weren’t exactly being subtle about it. But the man mentioned Jacob.
Maybe he was just being paranoid, but with everything that was going on, it felt better to be safe than sorry.
His quill buzzed in his hand.
He called me Jake?
Kit typed in an affirmative, then waited.
Okay. Jacob’s messages came in rapidly, one after another. Don’t worry about this. I think I know what it might be about. FYI, Luke is laughing himself sick at the thought of anyone calling me Jake.
Kit had to smile at that. He typed back a brief message: Let me know what happens.
A tiny image of a thumbs-up appeared on the screen.
“You are such a dad,” Kit murmured, shaking his head with a tired smile. He slipped the quill away and folded his arms over his chest, trying not to think about what the man in the hall might be after.
He didn’t have long to worry about it.
As soon as the tram pulled up to the stop nearest the TRI and he could see the huddle of reporters still hanging around outside, he had much more pressing problems to focus on. He stepped out onto the platform and took a deep breath.
Time to face the press, and hopefully get out alive.
Chapter 43
JACOB LEFT Luke at his flat. They’d talked over breakfast after Kit left, and while there had been some teasing about him being a dirty old man with a toy boy, Jacob got to say all the things he wanted and needed to say.
It felt better to be prepared for the worst, even if it didn’t happen.
The whole ride down to the station, he stared blankly out of the window.
Cutting Kit loose was the end of it. It would be better for Kit, in the long run. He needed someone who didn’t get himself in trouble so often, because Jacob was a moron who couldn’t think. Kit was right about that.
Jacob had dived headlong into a situation without thinking about the repercussions so many times that—looking back—it was embarrassing: shagging his then-girlfriend in a desperate attempt to prove to his parents he wasn’t gay; dropping out of college to join the police force to make money to help raise his son rather than get an education; taking his first boyfriend back to meet the parents on the bloody stupid assumption it would open their minds; and then getting so determined to pay Luke’s way through university that he went and buggered Rory’s life up instead.
It was better for Kit, for both of them, that they’d ended on a good note.
One for the road.
It was better, no matter what Kit had said the night before. No matter if he meant it. No matter if Jacob was starting to wonder if maybe, possibly, he might be able to feel the same. One for the road. A final line under the hot mess that was their relationship.
He pressed his hand over his eyes.
“Bloody idiot,” he whispered.
He didn’t know which of them he was talking about.
There were a few reporters loitering outside the station by the time he got there, trying to see in through the frosted glass of the reception doors. He brushed by them and went into the building, running his hand over the ID sensor at the front desk.
“Detective Inspector Ofori?”
Jacob paused, turning to look into the reception area. “Mrs. Ashraf?” He headed toward her. Like him, she had been screwed over by the case, and now, at least, he could sympathize in earnest. “How are things going?”
The woman rose and shook his hand. He hadn’t seen her since their last meeting, though he knew she had been called in by people much further up the food chain. She looked drained. “I think you can imagine.”
He didn’t have to, but he nodded all the same. “And Ben? Is he all right?”
“As well as he can be, really. My husband is looking after him and our boys at the moment. We’re keeping him out of the limelight.”
“Good.”
“Mrs. Ashraf?” Both she and Jacob turned. DCI Crawford was standing in the doorway and nodded to Jacob. “If you’ll come with me, Mrs. Ashraf, we’re ready for you upstairs.”
Mrs. Ashraf picked up her coat and bag. “Perhaps I’ll see you later, Detective Inspector.”
He stepped aside to let her pass, then went to the second elevator to head up to his own department. The office was already bustling, and he glanced at the incident board. The TRI had been relegated to a single folder at the bottom of the screen. Now, the focus was on the missing woman, the man who was Baby Robertson, and Harper.
“Anything new?” he asked Temple, who was transferring data across from her slate.
She glanced at him. “One possible lead,” she said, tapping a finger to the slate and scaling up an image on the incident board. It was a video clip, and she set it playing. “We finally managed to get it cleaned up enough to be visible.”
Jacob came closer and watched. It was footage from outside Harper’s building, distorted, but clear enough to see the woman they were looking for. She ran down the steps, and a moment later, a pod drew up in front of her. She glanced back, then climbed in and was gone.
“This is good,” Jacob said. “It looks like a taxi-pod, doesn’t it? That means the company will have it tracked. We can find out where she went from there.”
“Y
ou’d think so,” Temple replied, scratching the hollow of her cheek with her thumb.
“Oh?”
“We contacted the taxi firms first thing, looking for the one that did this pick-up, but haven’t had any luck so far.” She looked at him. “It may just look like a taxi. Could be she had a friend who sent it for her.”
Jacob stifled a groan. He rubbed at his eyelids with his forefinger and thumb. “Okay. Have you got someone trying to track it on other cameras?” She nodded. “If we can get a clear shot, and the registration panel isn’t visible, set someone to follow it on the cameras….”
“My thoughts exactly,” she said. She reduced the image back down. “Also, there are a few messages for you. Mr. Harper called. He wants to arrange a meeting with you. He asked for you to call and schedule it as soon as possible.”
Jacob hesitated. “When did he call?”
“Less than half an hour ago. Why? Is it important?”
Jacob rubbed his jaw, recalling Kit’s unexpected message. Someone had eyes on him, and if it wasn’t a reporter, he had a feeling he knew who it might be. “I think it could be. You okay doing what you’re doing?”
Temple nodded, frowning. “You all right?”
Jacob smiled, but it felt tight and forced. “Yeah. We’re getting somewhere. Keep people looking for the pod. I’ll be in my office.”
His messages were illuminated on the small board beside his desk, and he dragged Harper’s number into the call box, touching his earpiece as it dialed. He wasn’t surprised that Harper had been in touch. He had almost been expecting it.
Harper’s secretary answered, and Jacob was as polite as possible.
He asked for details but wasn’t shocked when she knew nothing, only that Mr. Harper wanted to see him privately, at his earliest convenience.
Jacob gazed at the calendar projected on his message board. There was nothing scheduled, but if his assumptions were correct, he didn’t want to go rushing in half-cocked. Anyway, it was unlikely that Harper was about to hand over a sheaf of useful information, not given the note their last meeting ended on.