Southernmost Murder

by C. S. Poe

  Jun shuddered and his mouth faltered a bit.

  I smiled to myself. “Yeah, you want that, don’t you? Want to just lie back and watch me ride you.”

  He let up on my nipple, and the cool air of the cottage hit the spit-slick skin, giving me goose bumps. Jun’s mouth latched on to mine, tongue thrusting in and coaxing mine to come play until we were both left gasping for air. “I’ve dreamed of being in your bed since the day we met,” he whispered.

  “Yeah?” I smiled and kissed him again, tugging his lower lip with my teeth.

  Jun groaned. “Y-yeah.”

  “Did you ever think I’d be bossing you around?” I adjusted how I was sitting so that I could better thrust against Jun’s own erection.

  He gasped. “I—I think a part of me recognized that tendency in you.”

  “Hmm… you realized it before I did.”

  He laughed. “I’m thankful.”

  I kissed him again. “I’m happy to provide anything you need.” I climbed off Jun and crawled to the edge of the bed to open the nightstand. “Lose the pants,” I said over my shoulder, which I heard him quickly do. Regardless of the fact that, as of yesterday morning when Jun arrived in Key West, we hadn’t technically been dating, I’d still done the adult thing and purchased bedroom products. Because the joke was so on me if I thought I could withstand his charms and devilishly perfect looks the entire vacation.

  I kicked my pajama pants off and knee-walked back to Jun’s side with a condom and lube in my hands. “Know what you’re going to do?” I asked, straddling him again.

  Jun shook his head. “No,” he whispered.

  I took one of his hands and pressed the bottle of lube into it. “Now do you?”

  Jun uncapped the bottle, and a moment later, one hand grabbed me, kneading a cheek firmly. His slicked-up hand touched me next, gentle and cautious as his fingers explored my hole.

  I wrapped both arms around his neck and grabbed a handful of Jun’s hair so I could tilt his head back and kiss him. “Next time,” I murmured, “we’ll keep the lights on, and you can fuck me from behind.”

  Jun’s hot breath ghosted against my mouth, and his fingers pushed into me. “So I can appreciate your body art?” He gasped, and I’d swear he was the one being stretched, from the sounds of pleasure coming from him.

  I groaned and rocked back. “That’s right.” The massive octopus tattoo on my back had thick, inked outlines made to look like brushstrokes. It was pretty hot if you asked me.

  “So tight,” Jun whispered.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve even used my dildo.” His fingers thrust in harder, and I cried out. “Holy fu—yes!”

  “You have a dildo?” Jun asked between kisses.

  “D-does that upset you?”

  “No.” He grabbed my ass with both hands briefly, squeezing and pulling the cheeks apart. “I think it’s sexy.”

  “It’s pink.”

  Jun laughed breathlessly and started stretching me again. “I’m not surprised.”

  I let Jun continue for another minute before I pulled away, pressed my hands onto his chest, and shoved him back down among the pillows. “Stay right there,” I ordered.

  “Yes,” he agreed, voice quiet, but just that one word dripped with passion and need.

  I smiled and slowly slid down to his thighs so that Jun’s erection was in front of me. I wrapped my hand around it and gave it a few lazy pumps. I’d put his girth out of mind since the car blowjob, but damn… Jun really was huge. This was going to be the biggest dick I’d taken. I thought of crossing myself and saying a prayer before getting on that pogo stick, but I just started laughing at the mental image.

  “What?” Jun asked.

  “No, nothing,” I replied, opening the condom. “Ever been turned down because of this weapon?” I asked as I slid it over him.

  “Ah… yes.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Yes.”

  “What a shame.” I moved back up to his hips. “Before we get down to business… I don’t want this to be a mood killer, but sometimes—rarely—my cataplexy is triggered during sex.”

  Jun sat up a bit, but I pushed him back down. “Is there anything I should do?”

  “Cross your fingers that it doesn’t ruin our fun.”

  “I’m serious.”

  I shrugged, despite the dark room. “Just keep me from falling off the bed and take it as a compliment that I literally lost muscle control because of you.”

  Jun didn’t respond.

  “Laugh, it’s a joke.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  I grumbled and leaned down to kiss him hard. It only took a few of those before Jun was grasping at my body once more. I sat back up and reached behind to hold his dick as I slowly eased down. Jun’s hands gripped my thighs, and I could feel him shaking as he kept his body still.

  “Holy fucking Christ,” I said, gasping loudly.

  I’d get used to a boyfriend this big, right? Right? Then again, there was something so fierce and raw and animalistic at having my insides scraped away with every inch I slid down on. Maybe getting used to it wasn’t what I wanted. The thrill sent sharp spikes, erratic and random, from the top of my head to my toes, from my nipples to my balls. Everything was on fire and I felt as if I was being consumed. Pain and a bit of discomfort bloomed into something incredible.

  I finally sat on Jun’s lap, his entire cock in my ass, stretching me as wide as I could go. I took a breath and shuddered as another wave of intense euphoria washed over me. Putting my hands firmly on his chest, I hesitantly rose up, and the burning sensation returned. I hoped like hell that the two orgasms I’d given Jun today wouldn’t prolong him now, because no way was I lasting long. I couldn’t even be embarrassed by that truth. He felt like how I imagined heaven was.

  Jun moved his hands, running his palms along my back. He brought his legs up, digging his heels into the mattress like he was ready to pound into me, but was waiting as to whether or not I’d allow it.

  “You like this?” I asked, feeling light-headed.

  Jun groaned loudly in response. “Yes!”

  I hesitantly rocked my body against his own, and the push and pull on my ass made my toes curl. I focused for a moment, testing my control as I tightened muscles around him. It made us both gasp.

  “Ready to please me?” I asked Jun, tweaking one of his nipples.

  “Tell me,” he begged.

  “Tell you what?” I asked coyly. “To fuck me hard? You want to hold me down and ram your cock in as fast as you can, don’t you?”

  Jun was shaking, his grip on my hips so hard, there was no doubt he’d leave marks.

  “No,” I said. “You’ll have to wait.”

  Jun shuddered, but I knew he liked the answer.

  I sat up straight and used his chest as leverage again to push up and down, fucking myself on his massive cock. My own dick slapped his lower stomach as I moved, but I ignored it. It felt good. Jun must have liked it too, because each time I came down and it hit him, the sounds he made sent me over the moon. In no time the head was drooling precum all over Jun’s sweaty skin.

  I touched myself just enough to swipe the liquid with my thumb before leaning over and pushing it into Jun’s mouth. He wrapped his lips firmly around it and sucked hard. I’d have never imagined my fingers being an erogenous zone—but that tongue. That tongue.

  “Sit up,” I ordered. “Kiss me.”

  Jun immediately moved, resting on his elbows to meet me as I came down to kiss his mouth. The angle change was just right, and the next movement I made had me crying into the kiss.

  “Oh fuck,” I moaned. “Fuck!” I pulled back, shoving Jun down again and gripping his pecs. I rode him hard, letting go of any intention I had of giving Jun the reins. I might have the dick up the ass, but I was calling the shots. I slammed down on him, our skin hot and slick, the slapping of our bodies filling the quiet of the cottage.

  I grabbed myself, jerking nearly painfully, as I
desperately hurtled toward the brink of oblivion. “I’m gonna come all over your chest,” I said, vaguely impressed that I’d managed a complete sentence when I was so full of cock that breathing, let alone thinking, had taken a back seat to my immediate need of orgasm. “You want that?”

  “Yes,” Jun moaned. “Please!”

  I grabbed the back of Jun’s head with one hand and got him to sit up again. “Where do you want to come?” I asked, panting as I kept moving against him. “Tell me, now.”

  Jun’s hold on my hips tightened to the point that I’d be feeling those bruises as much as my throbbing ass the next day. “Your back and ass.”

  I leaned close and kissed him, and the taste of Jun’s mouth, his erratic breathing mingling with mine, and the slab of cock rammed up my ass like a steel rod finally did it for me. I choked on my own moan, cum spurting against Jun’s body and dribbling down my fist. I felt like I was about to black out—the bliss was sensational beyond belief.

  “Aubrey,” Jun gasped.

  The desperation in his tone sort of brought me back to earth, and I stopped moving to awkwardly sit up from his lap. I winced as he pulled free, but didn’t even have time to lament the loss or consider the relief before Jun had me on my stomach. I wasn’t sure where the condom ended up, but he beat himself hard, dick and hand brushing my ass as he sought the same release I’d found.

  I heard his breath catch and then felt a warm rope of cum hit my asscheek and another land on my lower back. Jun collapsed on me after, managing to hold himself up enough so that he didn’t have his entire weight bearing down on me. I’ll be honest—I did immediately pass out, probably triggered in part from the sex, but it wasn’t for very long. When I opened my eyes again, I was still on my stomach, and I felt Jun’s tongue moving along the contours of my body.

  I grunted.

  He raised his head up to mine and kissed the side. “Awake?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Enjoy it?” I could hear the smile again as he spoke.

  I slowly stretched and rolled onto my side to look up at him. “Oh yeah. Just—give me a minute…. Brain cells.”

  Jun laughed and kissed my lips. “Come over here and lie with me.” He sat up, tugging me with him.

  We both moved to the head of the bed and flopped back against the pillows. Jun gathered me up and wrapped his arms around me as I draped myself over him. We were a tangle of sticky limbs, our blood cooling and breathing evening out.

  “I love you,” Jun whispered, kissing my head once more.

  I loved him too.

  Definitely.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE IRONY of a narcoleptic with insomnia was not lost on me. But the sad truth was, when it came to sleeping through the night, I often tossed and turned because of all the exhaustion and naps throughout my day. I mean, sex was a damn fun way to knock me out for several hours, but I did end up waking nonetheless.

  We’d shifted around, Jun’s naked form pressed up against my back with an arm slung over my waist. I touched his forearm, tracing the cords of muscle that flexed slightly in his sleep. I twisted my head toward the nightstand and reached out for my phone. I winced at the light as I turned the home screen on to check the time.

  Three o’clock…. Geez.

  I put the phone back and shut my eyes, trying to focus on nothing.

  I picked up the ticking of a wall clock from downstairs, loud enough to be mistaken for a freight train in the middle of the night. I listened to a car roll down Simonton Street, Jun’s breathing, and the sound of my freezer dropping ice cubes into the bin before filling back up with water.

  Great. Wide-awake with nowhere to go.

  I laced my fingers with Jun’s and thought, in no malicious way whatsoever, that it must be so nice to sleep uninterrupted. This would be a good time for the Smith Home alarms to go off, since I was already awake. But that wouldn’t happen, since the house was shut down for a stupid police investigation—honestly, how long did it take to dust a doorknob for fingerprints?

  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I knew that a murder investigation took precedence. And time. Nothing worked as fast as television would lead us to believe. But the more convinced I became that Smith’s map had been taken by the second intruder and murderer at large, the more anxious I was to get inside and check for myself. All it’d take was a quick peek. I mean, hell, it wasn’t like if they found evidence of me being there, it would suddenly put me under the magnifying glass of Burt Tillman. I worked there. I religiously worked there. I bet you’d find my epithelial tissues or whatever in every single nook and cranny of that place. I bet they’d even be on the ceiling.

  And Bob Ricci, telling me I was forbidden to be in the house and threatening my job? Yeah, fuck him. I didn’t respond well to bullying tactics.

  So… I guess what I was trying to ask myself was, would it really be so bad if I hopped on over to take a look? Sure, I could just lie here naked with Jun, and really, who in their right mind would say no to that? But I was already awake and it’d take, like, twenty minutes, tops. What if the map really was gone? It could be important for Tillman to know, even though he’d likely just be angry. Deep down in his heart I knew he’d appreciate the tip when it became relevant. And besides all this, there was also the fact that I had to call Ms. Price in the morning and defend my job. What if she asked about the state of the home or Bob had been feeding her lies? What was I supposed to say? Make something up without having seen the third floor for myself?

  I looked over my shoulder at Jun, gauged that he was deep into REM, and slowly eased out from his hold. I got to my feet, dressed in the dark, then grabbed my phone. I turned the flashlight on so I wouldn’t trip and fall down the spiral stairs in my attempt to sneak out, but I caught sight of Jun’s gun and holster on his suitcase, and it gave me pause. He hadn’t put it away before we fell asleep, although admittedly I did sort of sidetrack him.

  I’d never held a gun before.

  Not that I wanted to, but… Ghost Smith. Except he, er, Josh, was currently in jail. So the odds of going to the house and being attacked were pretty fucking slim to none, but those phone calls, telling me not to go back and that I’d be dead—Josh incarcerated or not, I didn’t want to take any chances and be caught with my pants down.

  Jun was still sleeping. I hoped like hell he’d stay that way, because he would kill me for doing this. I slowly eased the weapon free from his holster, surprised at its weight. Jun wielded it like an extension of himself, but it felt too heavy to be of any use. That was okay, though. I wouldn’t have to fire it. Just having a gun would scare off any potential intruder.

  Not wasting another minute, I hurried down the stairs and picked up my crappy Chucks from beside Jun’s shoes at the front door before tiptoeing to the back. I paused to dig out my Vespa keys from under a pile of junk on the unused dining room table, then fetched my helmet from where it sat on the washer. I slipped out the back door, juggling the handful of crap while stomping into my shoes and then putting my helmet on.

  Safety first!

  I pulled the seat up on my pink Vespa to stash Jun’s pistol among some week-old mail, a map, an extra hoodie, and a bag of Twizzlers I’d bought and forgotten about. What a travesty! I slammed the seat down, hoisted the Vespa off its kickstand, and walked it to the front of the house. I brought it to the street before I sat, turned the ignition, and made a quick getaway in hopes of not waking Jun.

  In the middle of the night, I could get to the Smith Home in under five minutes easy. Speeding down the streets, the cool tropical breeze whipped through my clothes and sent shivers up my arms. The neighborhood was empty of the typical daytime madness, and despite being a town to party in, 3:00 a.m. was pushing it for most folks. The only traffic I encountered on the way to the house were a few chickens crossing the road—a joke that got old real fast, believe me.

  I turned onto Whitehead Street, and the Smith Home seemed to almost emerge from the canopy of surrounding trees. It was kinda creep
y at this hour. But hey, at least there were no lights on in the windows, or apparent shadows moving about the house. I rolled into the employee-only driveway, parked beside the gift shop, and cut the engine. I heaved the Vespa back onto its kickstand, grabbed Jun’s scary gun, snuck to the back gate, and let myself onto the property.

  That strange bubble that seemed to encase the house was there once again as I walked along the dark paths in the garden. It’s not that it was quiet at three in the morning; it was like sound was simply unable to pass through the gate. It became muted. Faraway. Sometimes it almost felt like if I screamed, no one would hear me.

  Weird, right?

  I hurried up the front steps and crossed the porch, only to find the cops had put one of those stickers on the door that if you opened it, would cause a tear and they’d see someone had trespassed. I’m sure Tillman wouldn’t need more than one guess as to who did the entering either. I huffed and put my hands on my hips, about to cuss the detective out, but then I remembered the broken window latch around back. I’d already proven I could finagle my way in, so I went down the steps and circled the house to the opposite end.

  This door had been stickered over too, but the windows? Sticker-free and Aubrey-size. I went to the corner window that looked into the parlor, shielding my hands around my face as I peered in. Totally pitch-black. I couldn’t make out a single thing inside. I took a deep breath, told myself not to be a scaredy-cat because I was Aubrey Grant and had once chased a pickpocket who was dressed like Batman off the subway, and shimmied the pane open.

  I stuck my leg in first and then ducked my head inside. I held on to the frame and bounced back on one foot to carefully get my other leg inside while not bumping or breaking any nearby antiques. Standing in the parlor, I let my eyes adjust and breathing slow, and considered flicking on the lights. In fact, I should turn all of them on. Set this house ablaze in warm tungsten because I couldn’t shake off these damn heebie-jeebies. But if I did that, I might as well have been on the porch with a megaphone, proclaiming I was breaking and entering.