Blind Spot (23 page)

“Your ass was made for kissing,” Nathan said thickly. He teased a finger around Sam’s rim as he spoke. “Why haven’t I done this before?”

Sam had often wondered the same thing, but he hadn’t wanted to press the issue. Even though he enjoyed eating ass, it wasn’t for everyone. But Nathan wasn’t hesitant at all. He was going at it like he loved it, like he couldn’t get enough—and it was driving Sam out of his mind.

Nathan’s beard scratched against Sam’s sensitive skin, providing a delicious contrast to the wet heat of his mouth. When Nathan wrapped a hand around Sam’s dripping cock, Sam thought he might die. He let out a shout of warning. “No. Please.”

“Good boy.” Nathan released him. “That’s my good boy. You were close?”

“So close. I—ah.”

Nathan laughed. He sounded like his mouth was full and went back to slowly jacking Sam’s dick while he licked and sucked. It seemed to go on like that forever, the orgasm building and then receding in waves until Sam was delirious and utterly under Nathan’s control.

He almost wasn’t expecting the words “I’m going to fuck you now.”

Nathan bent his legs back even further, and Sam cried out at the first thrust.

“Put your heels over my shoulders,” Nathan commanded as he started to move. Sam did. His arms stretched and strained with every slam of Nathan’s hips. Soon Sam was lost in the give and take of the rhythm.

“You feel perfect,” Nathan whispered hoarsely.

Sam could only moan and clench around the cock inside him. He was beyond language.

“I need you so much.” Nathan’s voice was close, intimate. He nosed Sam’s cheek and then sucked an earlobe into his hot mouth. “I thought of you all the time when I was away. There was a swing. Wanted to see you on it, full of my cock. People wanting you, watching me fuck you, but knowing they can’t. Knowing you’re mine.”

Sam whimpered as he imagined it too. His ass burned with the stretch of the pounding.

Nathan reared up and pumped more erratically. Even though Sam couldn’t see him, he knew Nathan was getting close. “I’ll be dammed if I ever have to miss you like that again.”

Sam’s balls contracted. He was going to come soon, with or without Nathan’s permission. Every slide of Nathan’s cock edged him closer.

“I own you. I fucking own this ass.”

“Yes. Yes,” Sam nearly sobbed.

“Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love it. I love it so much.” In his delirium, Sam thought with shame of his drinking. All he’d really needed was to be completely taken over by Nathan’s thick cock.

“What if I fucked you like this all day?” Nathan was panting, punctuating each guttural word with a grind of his hips. “I want to feel you come. Can you do that for me?” He stopped moving, and Sam almost cried. Then he felt Nathan’s hands on his chest. Each nipple was sore, but it was nothing compared to the rush of sensation that came flooding back when Nathan released the clamps. The throbbing pain traveled straight to Sam’s cock. Sam exploded with a cry as the orgasm rocked him from head to foot.

“Oh damn,” Nathan groaned. “Damn.” He kissed Sam without finesse as he went deep and stayed there, trembling with the effort. Even after Sam thought it was over, Nathan moved slowly, fucking his come into Sam with a few final, luxurious strokes. Sam wanted to hold Nathan to him and keep him inside, but the restraints on his arms were unyielding. He moaned softly and gripped with his legs instead, wanting to feel every last pulse of the cock emptying into him.
His.

When he was finally untied, Sam could hardly lift his arms, mostly because the second orgasm had turned his body to jelly. He blinked slowly against the light when Nathan removed the blindfold.

“Hi,” Nathan said, his smile fond. He rubbed Sam’s arms to bring back circulation.

“Holy shit.” Sam’s voice was hoarse. He struggled to sit up against the pillows, but his body wasn’t obeying mental commands. He fell back and stared up at the ceiling, utterly wrecked.

“I hope that’s a good ‘holy shit’?”

“It’s a fantastic ‘holy shit.’ I need… I need to take a piss, but I don’t think I can stand up.”

“Here, let me—” Nathan hooked one arm under Sam’s bent knees and fit the other one behind his back.

Sam glared. “If you carry me, I’ll be angry.”

“How angry?” Nathan grinned as he started to move.

Sam grumbled out a protest against heteronormative bullshit, but Nathan was impossible to argue with. He carried Sam to the bathroom, careful not to hit his head on the doorframe.

“You’re an asshole,” Sam said as he was restored to dignity on legs that were a lot more stable than he expected. He aimed at the toilet, aware Nathan was scrutinizing him for any signs of injury.

“So you’ve said before.”

“I was right before.”

Nathan laughed. He looked gorgeous—carefree.

Sam finished, shook off, and turned around. His belly twisted with a different kind of need. He didn’t protest when Nathan turned on the shower and led them both under the spray to wash. He didn’t complain either when Nathan rubbed him down afterward, or when they lay together under the covers in the middle of the day, listening to the early summer thunderstorm through an open window. He fingered the collar around his neck as a flash of lightning lit up the cloudy sky. Thunder clapped loudly overhead, sending a tremor through the entire building. And Shadow—returned from exile—meowed and burrowed between them.

Nathan rested his head on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam tightened his arms. After all they’d been through in the past couple months, he knew Nathan needed the closeness as much as he did. Maybe even more.

Maybe it didn’t make them weak at all.

WHEN RICK
Morgan was arrested, the town erupted into pandemonium. Stonebridge was without a mayor for the first time in its history, since Morgan’s designated appointee from the city council had been arrested as well. A street protest against the corruption in city hall began as soon as the news broke, and it swelled over the next day until the governor declared a curfew. Now the streets were quiet at night, but Sam’s keyboard was on fire. The media was full of conjecture about which of the remaining council members would take the temporary office, and Sam wasn’t going to be left in the dust.

Chief Donna Howard and her police were under renewed suspicion, and the Feds had launched an internal investigation, led by none other than Antonio Rivera. It was almost like they’d gone back in time two years, but the people wanted answers. They weren’t going to settle for anything less than the truth.

Still it was good to be home again.

Sam lay with his feet in Nathan’s lap and Shadow tucked close against his left side. The newspaper headlines were even crazier than they’d been during the Sheldon-Hoff trial.

Feds Bust Former Deputy Mayor And Staff On Conspiracy to Commit Murder, Bribery Charges
, the lead to the
Gazette
article read. Sam continued out loud. “
Barney Collins, White’s former assistant and whistleblower, provided the FBI with information linking his employer to the Voronkov crime family before he was found murdered in southern Florida.
I guess it’s fitting Collins gets credit in the end.”

They decided it was safer to keep Sam’s name out of the papers, since it wasn’t clear if there would be further retribution from the Voronkovs. The men they arrested in Florida weren’t taking credit for the mayor’s murder. Still it was a relief to know who’d chased him and nearly run him off the road. A crime of passion was less frightening than a potential mob hit.

Nathan rubbed his feet as Sam scrolled to the bottom of the article. “
Police Chief Donna Howard is working with local prosecutors to pursue further leads, in spite of increased suspicion on her office. Mayor Morgan denies all involvement in White’s poisoning last month.
”

“So the guy says he’s innocent.” Sam snapped his laptop shut, set it on the coffee table, and stretched. He unsettled Shadow, who gave a meow of protest and jumped off the couch. “I guess I don’t blame him.” He thought again of the prison where he visited Sheldon—those oppressive drab walls and unfriendly guards. And of course Sheldon’s claim of innocence regarding his parent’s accident. It made him wonder about Donna Howard. “So, do you think Chief Howard’s involved?”

Nathan wrinkled his forehead. “Not sure. There was nothing in the Collins files linking her to the case. But I think it’s safe to say Morgan would throw her under the bus if he had any dirt on her, especially given the aggressive way she’s pursing the case. I’d say she’s likely clean. Speaking of… Rivera wants to know if you’d like to press charges against Judy White. They’ve got her in custody.”

Sam considered his move. Even though nothing had happened in the end, the car chase had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life. Still it gave him an idea. There was a slight possibility that Judy White had useful information. “I’d like to go see if I can talk to her, first. You wanna come with?” He swung his legs off Nathan’s lap.

“Somebody’s got to keep you out of trouble.” He sounded stern, but Nathan’s eyes were twinkling.

THE STAIRS
at the police station swarmed with a sea of reporters and photographers, but guards kept most of them back and out of the way. Nathan towed Sam after him as he waved his badge and cut through the throng easily. A few cameras flashed in their faces, eager to capture something—anything—that might be useful on a front page or a website, though Sam knew the assholes didn’t have a clue who they were.

Antonio Rivera greeted them at the front desk, looking haggard. Sam realized he hadn’t seen him since the night they’d gotten drunk together. It seemed like years had passed since then. Nathan slapped Rivera on the arm, and the two of them shared a greeting.

“Didn’t expect to see you back in town so soon, Tony,” Nathan said. “How’s it going?”

“Controlled chaos, as you see. Barely controlled.” Rivera smiled tightly, and Sam’s eyes were drawn again to the scar running the length of his face. He’d never asked how Rivera got it. “Feels more than a little like déjà vu. So what can I do for you?”

Rivera looked from Nathan to Sam, and the expression on his face shifted to not particularly pleased when Sam made his request to see Judy. “I’m afraid I can’t allow it,” he said, shaking his head. “No visitors.”

“Come on, Rivera,” said Sam. “Consider it a favor?”

“Sorry, but the answer is final. I can’t let you through, not during the questioning phase. She’s with her lawyer now.”

Sam cursed internally as he felt his chance slipping away. “But I need to talk to her.”

“About what?” Now Rivera seemed curious.

“Listen. I’m pretty sure my parents were murdered, and there’s a possibility Dan Sheldon was involved,” Sam said. “Maybe Judy White knows something about it. If White and Sheldon were working together, she must have—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dan Sheldon?” Rivera’s voice rose and he lifted his hands, like Sam was a horse that needed slowing down. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

Nathan sighed, and Sam felt firm pressure on his elbow. “Sam—”

He brushed Nathan off and turned back to Rivera. “I went and had a little chat with Sheldon. He says he wasn’t involved, but I’ve got a source who says an old friend betrayed my father before he died. Now I don’t know what to believe and I want to get the accident case reopened. If you let me talk—”

“Sam Flynn and Nathan Walker. Where the hell have you two been?” Donna Howard’s voice interrupted him. Sam turned. He had no idea how long she’d been standing there. “What’s this about Dan Sheldon?”

Sam flushed. He probably should have brought the matter up in a more private setting, without the whole station listening in.

“Hi, Chief,” he said. “Uh.”

“Sam’s been under a lot of stress lately,” Nathan explained. His hand was back on Sam’s elbow, and this time Sam couldn’t shake him off without making a scene. He glared, not appreciating being manhandled in front of an audience. “And we’ve already taken up too much of your time, Tony. Donna.” Nathan gave her a grim smile, and she looked like she might say something, but her eyes were latched on Sam. Sam stared back.

“I want to take a look at my parent’s accident report again. What happened that night was murder, and I’m not going to rest until I find out who did it.”

BY THE
time they made it outside the precinct, Sam was furious. Nathan had nearly dragged him out the door and down the steps through the crowd of reporters without speaking.

He was surprised to find Nathan just as angry, his lips a thin, tense line. “What the hell were you doing back there?”

“What are you talking about? We were supposed to talk to Judy. I thought you were with me on this.” But he hadn’t counted on Rivera’s resistance. And he’d run his mouth impulsively, even though they had decided they were going to make polite inquiries only.

Instead of waiting for Nathan’s reply, Sam turned on his heel and stalked down the sidewalk, thrusting his hands in his pockets as he went. He had no idea where he was going. He heard footfalls on the pavement behind him but didn’t turn around.

In few strides Nathan caught up. Sam cursed his long legs. He kept his gaze low, avoiding Nathan’s—the sole defense of the vertically challenged.

“Will you hold up a second?” Nathan asked, his voice calm.

Sam scowled. “No. I won’t. I have shit to do.” For one he’d promised Tim he’d be back to visit that afternoon. For another he needed to go on a run.

“Sam, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“If you tell me to be reasonable, I’ll punch you in the face.”

At the next intersection, Sam was forced to stop and wait for the pedestrian walk signal. He thought again about his conversation with Dan Sheldon. Over the last couple of days, he’d wracked his mind for other people who could have been involved. His father had a lot of friends, but not many close ones. Sam discounted the list of names he came up with one by one. It kept coming back to Sheldon, but that solution didn’t ring true anymore. It was frustrating as hell.