Murder Most Deserving

by Hank Edwards

  Michael barely managed a nod.

  “Oh, sweetie. When have you known me not to say what I think? If you’re ever doing something in bed that I don’t like, I’ll tell you. Deal?”

  He nodded again.

  “And for the record,” Jazz said with a smile. “That hasn’t happened yet, and I highly doubt it could. I wanna be the man who helps you live out all your fantasies.”

  Those sincere words quieted his doubts. It was only with Jazz that he ever felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and be himself. To know Jazz wanted to learn the secret side of Michael he’d never revealed to another made his heart swell with happiness. But he paused, knowing now was not the time to profess his love. “You’re very important to me, Jazz. I’ve never been this invested in a relationship, and sometimes that makes me nervous. I have no confidence whatsoever when it comes to you.”

  “You not confident?” Jazz repeated in disbelief. “The way you saved Mr. Pickles from armed criminals, or how just now, you ran all the way here for me. How can you say that? I’ve seen you confident. In fact, I’ve been on the receiving end of your confidence in bed.” He pointed to his kitchen. “Over there the other day. In the shower. On my couch. And in your car.”

  Michael’s cheeks warmed with pleasure, but he shook his head. “Maybe. That’s because you make me comfortable enough to be myself, especially when we’re making love.” He whispered those last two words. “That’s something I’ve never felt with anyone. Literally no one.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” Jazz cooed, brushing Michael’s cheek. “You can always be yourself around me. Even when you’re feeling unsure or nervous.”

  “Thank you for saying that, and I believe you. Honestly I do. But there are still a lot of insecurities in my head. I’m working on that.”

  Jazz gave him a soft, sweet kiss. “We’ll work on it together, sweetie. For future reference, though, I don’t want you worrying about our sex life. It’s perfect. You’re the best part of my life right now.”

  Michael’s head popped up. “I am?”

  Jazz nodded seriously. “You are. Why else would I toss the jimmy hats? You’re all I want.”

  The trickle that had become a downpour of concern suddenly shifted to a rush of joy and excitement. “I am?”

  Jazz smiled, though it didn’t sparkle his eyes per usual. “Yes, though honestly, I don’t know how you put up with all this drama I’ve thrown into your life.”

  “You haven’t done a thing,” Michael assured him, his mind still dancing with the sweetness of Jazz’s casual declarations. “You’re the best part of my life right now.” He felt like Sally Field just then: “You like me, you really, really like me!”

  “Haven’t I?” Jazz countered.

  “It’s not your fault what others do around you.”

  “So says you.” Jazz gave him a tired smile. “Regardless, what I wanted to talk about isn’t us. Well, it kinda is since it’s about me and I’m part of us.” He hesitated and sat back.

  Michael held his breath. He was here with handsome, sweet, sexy Jazz, and what he wanted to talk about sounded like it was important to him. Michael needed to listen and be ready to support whatever Jazz said next, not allow his own imagination and insecurities, or Ezra’s simple off-hand remark, to invent a problem with their relationship.

  Jazz let out a weary sigh. “I need to go see Russell.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “OH.” GAZE shooting up and hands stilling, Michael blinked as every thought seemed to slam to a halt. He couldn’t form any words other than what he’d already said, so he said it again. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.”

  It wasn’t anywhere near what Michael had expected, but it was a hell of a lot better than what he’d been imagining. “Well, I can clear a day whenever—”

  “No, I need to do this by myself.”

  “Oh,” Michael said, his thoughts jamming once again.

  Jazz flashed a tired smile. “You’re saying that a lot.”

  “Oh?”

  Sighing, Jazz pulled his feet back, but Michael was only disappointed for a moment because Jazz set his coffee down and straddled Michael’s lap. Smiling softly, Jazz put his hands on Michael’s shoulders and rubbed. “It’s been a long and emotional morning for both of us.”

  Michael managed a humorless chuckle, savoring the familiar, easy way they fell into touching each other. “It has at that. Yes, indeed.”

  “Do you understand?” Jazz asked, eyes searching, brows creased.

  “Which part?” Michael placed his hands on Jazz’s hips, squeezing gently. “The fact that you want to see Russell, or the part where you don’t want me to go?” He couldn’t stop the hitch in his voice when he said the last part and he hated himself for such weakness and insecurities.

  Jazz rested a warm palm on his cheek. “Both, sweetie.”

  Though they were so close, his gaze darted all around the room rather than looking at his boyfriend’s face. “Kind of?”

  “That sounded more like a question than a statement,” Jazz said. “Let me try to explain it better.”

  Lips pursed, Jazz studied Michael’s face, as if thinking about what to say. Michael watched the tip of his tongue skate along his lip. He leaned in for a soft, sweet kiss that tasted of coffee and sent a warm rush of security and love through him.

  “That was nice. What was that for?” Jazz said.

  “Couldn’t help myself,” Michael admitted, blushing.

  “My romantic mortician,” Jazz said with a sigh, scooting his hips deliciously closer. “How lucky am I?”

  “You were going to explain better?” Michael prompted, heart racing at Jazz’s nearness and the conversation. Why doesn’t he want me to go with him?

  “If you’d quit distracting me with romance and your hot bod, I might be able to think more clearly.” Jazz dramatically turned away from Michael and held a hand up to block his view even as he shimmied his hips playfully. “I need to remove you from my sight until I collect myself.”

  A moment later, Jazz looked back at him with another weary smile. He pressed their foreheads together and Michael’s eyes crossed keeping him in view.

  “Okay, I’m collected.” He sat back, his weight both uncomfortable and welcome on Michael’s thighs. “I need to go see Russell because that fucker is still in my head. We just sat here and talked about how he could be sending us death threats from prison, and…. Well, I need to talk to him face-to-face and see if there’s anything to this idea that he’s responsible. Plus, I need to do this to close the door on that part of my life.”

  Michael’s heart perked up at that last bit. “Oh?”

  Jazz gave him a soft smile. “There’s that word again. But yeah. I want to put all my energy into looking to the future. And us. I need to get Russell out of my head for good. Do you understand?”

  “I do,” Michael assured him. “Looking to the future… that’s what I want too.”

  Knowing it wasn’t the right time to say those three words but wanting to convey them through touch, Michael embraced Jazz tight.

  Jazz’s arms coiled around his neck and they held each other close, sharing breaths and relishing the connection.

  As Michael breathed in the woodsy, sweet scent of Jazz, his mind calmed. He loved Jazz. It wasn’t a surprise to him, not really. It had been less than two months since they’d met, but he knew he loved him. Had known for a while now. He had yet to say the words aloud, even to himself or Mr. Pickles.

  While Jazz was still sorting through his complicated feelings about Russell, Michael shouldn’t expect Jazz to simply fall in love again so soon.

  Yet Jazz’s words about a future gave Michael hope. He said that Michael was all he wanted. You’re the best part of my life right now, Jazz had said.

  Maybe visiting Russell would help Jazz put the worst part of his life behind him so they could move forward.

  Michael shifted, pulling Jazz tighter, hoping to convey his love and support. Being so clo
se, his body stirred. When Jazz arched against him, Michael could tell he was working himself into a similar state.

  Jazz drew back. “Wanna get our minds off all this?” he said at the same time Michael said, “Bedroom?”

  They both chuckled.

  Jazz climbed off and held out his hand, drawing Michael to his feet.

  Smiling and heart thumping with a never quenchable need for Jazz, Michael followed Jazz into his bedroom.

  Whereas Michael’s bedroom was all precision and order, clean lines, whites, grays, and dark woods, Jazz’s bedroom was as colorful and as complex as the man himself. To the east, large windows with drawn white curtains faced the back parking lot, while discarded clothing littered the plush lavender chaise lounge sitting beneath the opposite windows offering a view of the lake. An antique vanity painted a distressed white with a tiny stool covered in black and white polka dots sat beside the chaise, Jazz’s hair products all lined up neatly atop it. Jazz had somehow managed to cram a king-sized bed into the small room and it faced the door, a focal point with two large canvases of a colorful landscape in lieu of a headboard. The giant bed was unmade and beckoning.

  Inching around the bed, Michael set his glasses on the end table, and they kissed.

  Michael’s heart ached for everything Jazz had gone through, from the way Russell hurt him and now to this horrible day. He wanted, no, he needed to make Jazz feel loved, cared for. Appreciated. Hungry for Jazz, but eager to make sure Jazz got what he wanted, Michael whispered, “What would you like?”

  “Anything,” Jazz breathed, hands caressing Michael’s chest. “Everything.”

  The trust in Jazz’s eyes washed away the niggling doubts in Michael’s mind. Jazz had assured Michael he’d been on board with the spanking—damn, he’d said he wanted it harder next time! A surge of confidence swept through him. “Everything, eh?”

  Jazz gave Michael a sleepy smile as Michael reached for the button of Jazz’s pants.

  “Are you going to undress me?” Jazz whispered.

  “Yes, and I’m going to do my damnedest to make you forget everything that’s going wrong right now.”

  Jazz brushed his hand across Michael’s face. “I’d rather think about everything that’s going right in my life… at least right now.”

  Michael nodded and pushed Jazz’s slacks to the floor, a delighted thrill whipping through his body when he discovered, once again, his boyfriend had gone commando. He gripped that semihard erection, eyes locked on Jazz.

  As Michael slowly stroked, he memorized Jazz’s face: every flinch, every nibble of lip and faint sigh while Michael brought him to full hardness. When a small pearl of moisture brushed across Michael’s palm, he released him.

  Jazz let out a sigh, and Michael knew it was not one of disappointment. Jazz understood that Michael was devoted to his pleasure… always.

  Jazz assisted him ever so slightly as Michael removed his shirt. When Jazz stood naked before him, Michael pushed the covers of the bed aside.

  “Here,” Michael said, his voice rough with desire as his own cock pressed hard against his jeans. He relished the denial of his own needs while he put Jazz’s before his own. “Lie down. Let me take care of you.”

  Wearing a sleepy grin, Jazz readily obeyed. His hair spread out across the watercolor floral sheets like rays of sunshine in a meadow of wildflowers.

  Michael crawled onto the bed and, as if Jazz read his very mind, he opened his legs so Michael could fit in between. Michael continued his massage, working up Jazz’s calves, over his hairy thighs, his gaze alternating between Jazz’s rock-hard cock and the dazed look of pleasure in his boyfriend’s eyes.

  When he reached the soft skin along Jazz’s inner hip bone, Jazz twitched and thrust his hips up.

  “Fuck, you know that’s my hotspot,” Jazz gasped, then let out a breathless laugh.

  “I do,” Michael said, somewhat surprised by his arrogant tone. He dipped his head and kissed that soft unguarded skin, first one side, then the other.

  Jazz was whimpering now, and Michael took mercy on him by taking his cock all the way down his throat in one forceful movement. Beneath him Jazz convulsed and let out a cry. Michael sucked with vigor and used the heels of his hands to press on Jazz’s hip bones to keep him stationary, letting him know in no uncertain terms who was in charge.

  Jazz willingly succumbed to Michael, relaxing and trusting that Michael would see to his every need.

  Never before had Michael been so consumed with a desire to take care of another human being. Jazz was his everything. Michael needed him to know he would always be there for him. He put all of his love and devotion into the blow job, and lost himself to the heat of Jazz’s dick—the curvature of the head, the salty sweetness of precum, and the brush of pubic hair on his chin. He didn’t even mind the discomfort in his throat as he took him deep.

  Nothing mattered but making Jazz happy.

  “Fuck, Michael,” Jazz cried out. “Please….” Hands grasped at Michael’s shoulders, tugged on his polo shirt.

  Michael lifted off Jazz’s cock until only the head was in his mouth as he gazed up at him.

  Jazz’s skin was flushed, his brow and hair damp with sweat, eyes rolling back in his head. He pulled on Michael’s shirt again. “Please, now… I need to taste you too,” he begged. “I need to taste your cum… want you so bad….”

  Unwilling to deny Jazz anything, Michael hastily pushed to his knees and scrambled to reposition while Jazz fumbled for his belt. Between the two of them they got Michael’s pants and underwear below his ass.

  Jazz grabbed for Michael’s firm erection.

  Chuckling at his lover’s eagerness, Michael gently pushed Jazz back onto the pillows. “Let me get in position first.”

  When they were lying side by side, faces at crotch level, they both took each other at the same time. Jazz groaned long and loud, the vibration doing things to Michael’s body he didn’t know were even possible. Being still fully clothed, with Jazz completely naked and writhing against him, was a delightful sensation. Jazz’s fingers clutched at Michael’s ass, pulling tight and deep-throating Michael with a talent and fervor that probably belonged in Guinness World Records for the best cocksucking ability.

  Savoring Jazz’s expert technique, Michael went back to his worship of Jazz’s cock. Then, to Michael’s surprise, Jazz hooked his thigh over Michael’s head, shifting somewhat on top of him. He began to thrust deep into Michael’s mouth, fucking his throat with a passion bordering on frantic.

  Now Jazz was in control, with Michael lying there, his mouth being fucked hard and his cock sucked with gusto.

  Jazz’s promise to act out all of Michael’s fantasies with eager support flitted through his mind as Jazz roughly used his mouth, all the while giving Michael just what he needed.

  They didn’t last long like that, and the moment Michael felt Jazz jerk against him, plunging his cock deep, Michael fell with him, melting, rolling, and tumbling hard through an orgasm that rocked him to his core.

  Dazed in afterglow, Michael cleared his throat and coughed a little when Jazz pulled out.

  “All right, sweetie?” Jazz asked, his knees popping as he shifted to look down at him.

  Damp cock lying exposed and used above his jeans, Michael lay on his back. “Perfect,” he managed. His throat felt a bit abused, but he relished the idea of feeling Jazz later.

  Jazz shifted and fell heavily against Michael, lying next to him. They turned and looked at each other at the same time, letting out breathless chuckles.

  “That was hot,” Michael whispered.

  “Always is with you,” Jazz said, scooting closer so their faces were mere inches apart.

  For all the things Michael had worried about, this, the two of them together in moments like this? At least he didn’t have to worry about that. Jazz had shown him that just now, sating his stress and taking what he needed—which Michael was more than willing to give.

  Once more, Michael was delighted
with how compatible they were.

  The stress of the past few days should not have shaken Michael’s confidence in his relationship with Jazz. They’d weathered one murder investigation, and they would overcome this one too.

  Michael jumped when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Sorry, let me check on this.”

  “Sure, sweetie.”

  Michael discovered quite a few text messages waiting for him: two from Kitty, one from Trevino, and a few from Musgrave. He sighed. “People are looking for me.”

  “And lucky me has found you.” Jazz smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Go do your job like the superhuman you are.”

  Michael didn’t move from the bed as he looked at Jazz. “Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m going to have a long nap and a little pamper-Jazz time now that I have a surprise day to myself.”

  “I wish I could spend it with you,” Michael said, feeling a lonely ache at the thought of missing out on spending quality time with his sexy hairdresser. “I wish we could spend all day making love and forget about everything else.”

  “That sounds wonderful, but to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be very good company today. If I do leave the apartment, I’ll probably go over and help Misty prepare for her block party tomorrow. She’s pretty shaken up.”

  “When were you thinking of visiting Russell?”

  “Oh, not until Monday at the earliest. I’m not up to it today, and they don’t have visiting hours on Sundays.”

  So he’s already checked into the prison visiting hours. How long has he been planning this? Since the phone calls from the prison he hadn’t told me about?

  Michael pushed negative thoughts aside—we’re in a good place—and got to his feet. Jazz needed to do this so he could move forward with Michael. Michael would support him no matter what. “Okay. I’ll text you later and see how you’re doing. Maybe we can meet up?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Jazz stood up as well. “I’ll let you know. But don’t take it personally if I want to hang on my own tonight, okay?”

  Michael tried to act casual about it even as the concern started up again. “Oh, I know. It’s fine.”