Murder Most Lovely

by Hank Edwards

  Jazz sat back on his haunches and studied Michael’s cock as he stroked it. The pale length glowed in the moonlight, making his mouth water for another taste. But he needed more. He gazed at Michael above him, pouring every ounce of his need into his expression. “I want this inside me.”

  “Oh, yes,” Michael said, barely above a whisper. He fumbled his glasses off and tossed them onto the dash, his desire clear.

  Jazz stood up and pulled out his wallet, smiling down at Michael, half-naked, legs spread and dick shiny with spit and precum. It jutted up into the night, waiting for Jazz’s ass. He pulled out the condom and added his wallet to Michael’s glasses on the dash.

  Eyes wide, Michael licked his lips as Jazz held a corner of the package in his teeth and shucked his own pants and the pair of boxer briefs he’d found in Michael’s drawer.

  “Underwear today?”

  Jazz couldn’t tell if it was humor or disappointment in Michael’s voice. “And yours to boot. Gotta keep you guessing.”

  Michael reached out and ran his palm down Jazz’s torso.

  “Pull your legs inside and sit in the car,” Jazz instructed, voice rough.

  Nodding and breathing heavy, Michael did as ordered, his wanton expression enough to make Jazz’s dick leak. He opened the condom—prelubricated, the most thoughtful feature—and rolled it on Michael, then stroked up and down to make sure it was secure.

  Jazz wasn’t going to ride him easy.

  “You’re going to…?” Michael’s voice was quiet and breathy. His cock pulsed with need in Jazz’s hand.

  “Most definitely.”

  Jazz released him, and Michael leaned all the way back in the seat, shifting and getting comfortable. Jazz climbed onto his lap, his back to Michael’s front. With a little shifting, Jazz braced his hands on the dash while Michael held his cock steady. Hissing with need, Jazz began to slowly lower himself onto Michael.

  “So tight,” Michael groaned when Jazz dropped his weight and took that cock fully inside him.

  “Fuck!” Jazz cried, his back arching. The familiar sensation of invasion soon gave way to something better, a feeling of completeness and joining.

  They really were a perfect fit.

  “God, you’re so fucking hot,” Michael whispered. He ran his hands up and down Jazz’s chest beneath his shirt, then gripped his cock and stroked it.

  “Hang on, sweetie,” Jazz said, throwing a wink over his shoulder at the beautiful man balls-deep in his ass. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

  Michael smiled and gripped his hips. He thrust up gently. “Yes, please….”

  The rich feel of Michael inside him made Jazz tremble. He rocked forward and back on Michael’s lap, riding his full length and marveling at how much cock there was, how far he had to lift his hips to reach the thick rim of his cockhead before dropping back down. Every time he filled him deep, Jazz gasped, needing more. Michael’s hands were everywhere—up his shirt, tweaking a nipple, then stroking his cock and pulling his balls. It was no surprise when Michael tugged on Jazz’s hair tie, loosening it until his hair fell down his back.

  Michael caressed it smooth, then the cool rush of Michael’s inhale made Jazz shiver.

  “Love your hair,” he murmured. He ran his palms over Jazz’s back as Jazz rode him, kissing his shoulder. Jazz’s movements were awkward at first, until Michael took a tight grip on his hips and they found their rhythm.

  Oh God, such a perfect fucking rhythm!

  Grunting, Michael angled his hips up to meet Jazz coming back toward him, pushing a gasp out of him each time. Jazz closed his eyes and braced himself with one hand on the dashboard and the other on the roof. The angle of entry and Jazz’s own position allowed Michael to hit his sweet spot with every thrust, pushing him close to the edge in no time.

  “You’re so fucking tight in this position.” Michael’s voice was deep, almost a growl. “I’m close.”

  “So am I. Fuck me. Get us there….”

  Then Michael lifted his hips harder, the skin of his thighs slapping against Jazz’s ass when he slammed down. Pushing off the roof, Jazz bounced faster still. “So good,” he grunted, voice wobbling from the staccato thrusts, which shook him to his very core.

  Michael gripped Jazz’s cock, his movements a blur as he pumped along Jazz’s length. Every ounce of Jazz’s body came alive, tingling and hot down his back, cock and balls ready to burst at any second. The car bounced and the windows steamed as he impaled himself over and over. He just couldn’t get enough!

  Then Michael bit Jazz’s shoulder.

  The sharp sensation tore through his body and he froze, Michael’s dick buried all the way inside him. With a quiet gasp, Jazz came, his cock bucking in Michael’s grip. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him as his load spattered onto the rubber car mat.

  “So hot. You’re so hot,” Michael murmured, his voice rough. He grabbed Jazz hard by the hips, his powerful thighs flexing beneath Jazz as he slammed up fast a few more times. “I’m there. I’m there!”

  With a faint cry, Michael rammed into him and pulled Jazz down at the same time. He stayed there, his body shaking and the two of them locked in place, as he emptied himself into the condom.

  Boneless and spent, Jazz leaned back against Michael. Hands roaming up Jazz’s chest, Michael reclined them both, their bodies still united below the waist. Jazz’s legs spread open a little from the angle, and they both attempted to catch their breath.

  “My brave man,” Michael said, brushing aside his unbound hair to kiss the back of Jazz’s neck. He wrapped both arms around Jazz, holding him close. Michael’s hand probably spread Jazz’s cum on the front of his T-shirt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  “No braver than you.” Jazz took Michael’s left hand and kissed the tips of his fingers. “Now you can tell all your friends you got lucky at HPP.”

  They laughed together, and then Jazz said, “I’m going to move now.”

  “If you think you can,” Michael teased, giving his wet dick a gentle stroke. Jazz trembled as Michael played with him for a moment, his touch soft and tender.

  But when he felt Michael slipping out of him, he removed his hand. “Should get up in case somebody else comes along.”

  Lots of grunting littered with a few curses later, Jazz and Michael stood outside the car pulling on their briefs and pants. Michael slid on his glasses, looking at the soiled floor mat.

  “I can hose that off back at your house,” Jazz offered, tying his hair back and looping it into a bun. He was still damp with sweat and needed his hair off his neck.

  “Oh, I’m not worried about it,” Michael said.

  Then he pulled Jazz into a fierce hug.

  “What’s this for?” Jazz hugged him back, startled a little.

  “I never thought…,” Michael began, trembling before he went on. “I never thought I’d find someone who would want me so badly… so intensely that he’d need me to fuck him in the car before we got home.”

  Those words, so lonely and sincere, touched Jazz deep inside. He pulled back and cradled Michael’s face in his hands. Moonlight flashed in the lenses of his glasses, but he could see tears welling up in Michael’s eyes.

  “You are an amazing and gorgeous man,” Jazz said. “And I’m very glad we met. And I’m even gladder that you want me in your bed.”

  “Don’t you mean my car?”

  “I’ll have you there again too, if you’ll have me.”

  Their gazes locked and something significant passed between them. If Jazz were asked to explain it, words would fail him. But he knew then, with the stars and the moon shining down on them as witnesses, Michael was on his way to holding a very special place in Jazz’s heart, a place Jazz didn’t even know existed until he met a gorgeous man waiting for his soon-to-be ex-husband to sign his books.

  What was happening between them was real, maybe better than anything Jazz had ever shared before. And as soon as he had a chance, he was going to demand that d
ivorce.

  He didn’t want anything to tarnish their budding romance.

  Michael smiled before leaning in for a kiss. “Jazz, I’ll take you anyway I can have you.”

  Jazz chuckled. “Good to know. Now, let’s get Mr. Pickles home and fed and pampered.”

  “Yes! Let’s do that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MICHAEL SLEPT like the dead. The smell of breakfast cooking and his stomach rumbling woke him. Mr. Pickles lay against Jazz’s pillow, gazing at him with half-closed eyes, tail slowly flicking. The steady purr was familiar, but such a miracle that it made Michael smile.

  He kissed the top of Mr. Pickles’s head. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  Another tail swish and a bored expression were the answers.

  Still smiling, Michael got up and hurried into the bathroom. A damp towel hung on the rack, evidence that Jazz had showered already. Sadly, Michael had slept right through it. He would’ve liked to soap up all of Jazz’s nooks and crannies, maybe even fuck a few of those tight crannies.

  A shudder went through him when he thought about last night in the passenger seat of his car. He hadn’t had sex in a car since prom night, and he’d never had such fast and desperate sex before. Jazz’s need had been a shock at first, then a powerful turn-on. Their hunger for each other, the need for flesh-to-flesh connection after the stress of the whole night, had brought them to a furious finish.

  Michael hoped that fervor wasn’t just the adrenaline, but a promise of more passion to come. Jazz had said he saw an untapped passion inside Michael. He only hoped Jazz wanted to stick around and discover how deep and vast those passions really were. Michael had never allowed anyone to see into the secret person of his heart, or to know all his fantasies and dreams.

  But something about Jazz Dilworth left Michael feeling safe enough to maybe, finally, be himself.

  After a quick shower and brush of his teeth, Michael ran his fingers through his hair. Dressed in black jeans and a gray polo shirt, he descended the steps, excited to see Jazz. Mr. Pickles trotted down before him, and Michael’s heart burst with happiness watching him.

  Yes, everything was finally back to normal, the morning perfect.

  And seeing Jazz humming and flitting about the kitchen as if he’d been there a thousand times before was the icing on the cake.

  “Morning, sweetie,” Jazz said with a bright smile when he spied him in the doorway.

  “Morning.” He’d never tire of being called that and almost said so.

  “You sleep good?”

  “I did.”

  “Breakfast is almost done.” Barefoot, Jazz had on his worn blue jeans from the day before and one of Michael’s rarely worn T-shirts, a green one with the M&M Auto and Tire logo that Kitty had given him last summer from her husband’s business. It was a little small on Michael but fit Jazz perfectly. The green brought out strawberry notes in his hair too. Still damp from the shower, his unbound locks fell to the middle of his shoulder blades, leaving a wet ring on the T-shirt where it absorbed the moisture.

  Damn, Michael loved Jazz’s hair.

  Jazz was just putting the finishing touches on breakfast. It looked like eggs benedict, the yellow hollandaise sauce steaming. Parsley and fresh strawberries garnished the plate, and the heady aroma of coffee filled the kitchen.

  Michael could easily get used to Jazz’s cooking, but his favorite part was the man serving it all up with a smile Michael wouldn’t tire of anytime soon. His heart gave a twinge, and he fixed his attention on the food rather than all of these wonderful and scary things Jazz made him feel. He still couldn’t believe last night had happened. Well, all of it was pretty unbelievable… but the need he’d seen in Jazz’s cocoa-cream eyes was the most unbelievable of all.

  Jazz really wants me.

  He could hardly believe it.

  This was going far beyond anticipatory domesticity.

  “Wow, this all looks amazing,” Michael said. “Thank you.”

  Jazz swooped in for a quick kiss. “You’re welcome. You were sleeping so hard this morning, I couldn’t stand to wake you. So I got ready and decided to start breakfast. I fed Mr. Pickles too.”

  “We both appreciate it.”

  They sat at the island and tucked in. It was perfect… just like the company.

  Mr. Pickles leaped onto the barstool beside Michael, then up onto the counter, startling him.

  “You’re not allowed on the counter.”

  Jazz looked chagrined. “He isn’t?”

  “Lemme guess, he made himself at home up here while I slept and you cooked.”

  “Kinda.”

  Michael chuckled, regarding his precocious feline’s big green eyes. “You’re going to use the catnapping as an excuse for all sorts of bad behavior, aren’t you, boy?”

  Mr. Pickles meowed, his tail swishing.

  When Michael held out a tiny piece of ham, Jazz laughed. “And it looks like you’re going to let him.”

  “Most likely,” Michael agreed. Then he regarded Jazz. “Ready to give your statement?”

  Jazz nodded. “More than ready. I want to get this damn case closed and behind us.” He reached across the granite counter and squeezed Michael’s hand. “And then we can move forward too.”

  “I’d like that.”

  After cleaning up the dishes, they headed over to the funeral home. Kitty’s car was there, and if she didn’t already know what happened last night, she’d never forgive Michael for not updating her. When they stepped off the patio, they found Steve in the parking lot beside the garage, washing grass clippings from the mower deck. The lawn along the sidewalk and parlor was trimmed neatly, the smell of fresh cut grass filling the morning air.

  Steve’s eyes widened when he saw Jazz, but he only waved hello. “Morning, Captain.” He pointed at the gray clouds in the sky, then to the dandelions making an appearance in Michael’s small yard. “Rain’s coming. Won’t be able to get your lawn in this morning.”

  “No worries, Steve.” Michael felt his face heat. He’d never flaunted a lover in front of his employees, but he had nothing to be ashamed about. Acting casual, he hastily gave introductions. “Jazz, this is Steve. Steve, Jazz.”

  “Resident Jack-of-all-trades,” Steve quipped. “Nice to meet you, Jazz.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Kitty said a call came in from the Bluffs early this morning,” Steve told him. “Don’t know who passed, but we’ll need to head over as soon as I’m finished here.”

  Michael nodded. “Okay, I’ll get the details from Kitty.” He’d send Ezra and Steve since he and Jazz needed to speak with Musgrave. It really was nice, having an apprentice to lighten the workload.

  Steve went back to washing the mower deck, and Michael opened one of the side double doors for Jazz to enter before him. When Michael glanced over his shoulder, Steve gave Michael a wink and a thumbs-up.

  Smiling, and shaking his head, he followed Jazz inside.

  Kitty was at her desk, and she smiled up at them, expression eager. “Tell me what happened! Hilton told Marty they caught the murderers last night, but was extra skimpy on the details. How is Mr. Pickles?”

  “Safe and sound,” Michael said. “Thanks to your clever plan.”

  She beamed at that. “Well, you got me hooked on all those Brock Hammer novels. Now I’m thinking like a PI. So tell me what happened.”

  Jazz and Michael exchanged glances, and when Michael shrugged, Jazz gave Kitty a brief overview of the night.

  Kitty’s eyes widened with each new detail. “Oh my God. You actually got the gun? You’re so brave!”

  “Thanks.” Jazz nodded, then looked at Michael, his brows raised. “But you should have seen Michael. He was a real badass.”

  “You were?”

  Michael tried not to be offended by her surprise or embarrassed by the wink Jazz gave him.

  “He was.”

  Squirming a little as his mind and body revisited Jazz’s reaction to Michael’s s
o-called “badassery,” Michael changed the subject. “Yes, it was all rather exciting, but it’s over now, and Mr. Pickles is safe and justice served. Steve told me we had a call from the Bluffs early this morning?”

  Nodding and thankfully back on business, Kitty withdrew a note. “Yes, Edith Goldfarb passed away.”

  Michael took the note, ignoring the way Jazz was watching him, his mouth crooked into a tiny smile. Was he thinking about last night too? Planning another rendezvous to HPP maybe?

  “She lived in the private condos, not the full-care section,” Kitty was saying. “Her neighbors hadn’t seen her since last Tuesday and called for a welfare check. They don’t know exactly when she passed.”

  “That’s too bad,” Michael said, forcing his thoughts to business, not Jazz naked with Michael’s cock buried in his ass. Mrs. Goldfarb was a Jewish widow, and he hoped she hadn’t been dead all week and her body alone too long. “The Bluffs have had a lot of loss this week.”

  “Yes, well, you know what they say. Death comes in threes,” Kitty said.

  Michael nodded, though that wasn’t the experience of a mortician.

  Death always came.

  Michael left Jazz with Kitty and headed downstairs. He found Ezra in the preparation room, cleaning the equipment.

  “Good morning, Ezra,” Michael said.

  Ezra smiled. “Good morning. Did you find Mr. Pickles?”

  Michael had forgotten that Ezra helped them look the other night, but wasn’t sure how much gossip had spread through Lacetown yet. Knowing Musgrave would be annoyed if Michael told details to anyone who didn’t “need to know,” he kept his answer simple. “Yes, he is safe at home right now.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I was worried about him.”

  The concern in his voice touched Michael. “Thank you.” Then he noticed that Ezra had gotten a haircut and wore a white dress shirt with black pants and a red tie. “You look sharp today. Special event later?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing special. I felt it would be good to dress up a bit for work, like you do.” He took in Michael’s jeans and polo shirt. “Are you taking today off?”

  “Just the morning. So I’ll need you to assist Steve with collecting Mrs. Goldfarb as soon as he’s finished outside.”