Tarot's Touch (15 page)

Conor chuckled. “You could have pulled rank.”

“More than my life’s worth, denying that lot their chips!”

They shared the plate of cheese and pickle sandwiches, eating through the stack with moans of pleasure. Once the food was gone, Alex rinsed the plate and lounged against the sink.

“Amazing how simple food can taste so amazing when you’re hungry. Now, are you feeling better? Or are you going to make me wait even longer?”

Conor shivered. Alex had a look in his pale eyes that promised all kinds of naughtiness.

“Fine, thanks.”

“Then get your arse up the stairs. Or are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

Once they were ensconced in the bedroom, Alex undressed Conor with care, wary of hurting him. He would have preferred to tear the clothes from Conor’s gorgeous body, but that would have to wait for another night. When he was done, he stood back and admired Conor’s nakedness. Bruises or not, he was stunning and his cock was standing eagerly to attention, tip glistening in invitation.

“You need to get naked too. I want to see you.”

Alex grinned at the pleading tone, which Conor hadn’t quite managed to keep out of his voice.

“Oh, I don’t know. I enjoy being dressed while you are all bare and vulnerable.”

Conor pouted, and Alex immediately gave in. He got rid of his shoes and socks then dropped his trousers. He stripped his shirt off, watching the lust that flickered across his lover’s face. He left his underwear on and stepped forward. Laying his hands lightly on Conor’s hips, Alex leaned in for a kiss. Conor opened for him and he explored a little, nipping and tasting until Conor trembled.

“I think you need to lie down, love. You’re shaking.”

Conor scrambled onto the bed and lay in the middle. His eyes shone and his lips looked deliciously kiss-swollen. There was a hint of stubble rash developing on his face.

Mine.
Alex kept the fierce thought to himself. He stripped off his shorts and smirked as Conor’s lips parted and his pupils dilated. Alex climbed between Conor’s legs and pushed them farther apart then he wrapped his lips around Conor’s swollen, heated dick. He licked and tasted every inch. Conor whimpered and pressed back against his pillows. When the sweet sounds turned to gasps of “Close!” Alex let his prize slip from between his lips and sat back.

“Turn over.”

Conor obliged, trembling. Alex bent over him and the ragged breaths he heard told him everything he needed to know.

“Spread your legs.”

When Conor did, Alex sank back to his knees and pulled Conor’s firm creamy cheeks apart. He hesitated. He needed to be inside Conor, no question, but he didn’t want to hurt him.

“Are you okay, love? Not in any pain?”

“No…no! Hurry up! Need you…” Conor grumbled. Alex bent forward and flicked his tongue across Conor’s exposed pucker. Conor shivered, and as Alex repeated the action, his moans grew louder. He began to push back, wordlessly begging for more. Alex spread Conor open even farther and slid the tip of his tongue inside him.

Conor panted. “Alex…please…”

Alex loved Conor’s taste. He speared his tongue deeper, fucking Conor’s hole until he writhed with need. Alex wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t notice Conor’s slight wince when he bucked his hips. He moved back and grabbed a pillow.

“This is hurting you too much. Let’s make you a bit more comfortable.”

Conor gave a strangled moan of frustration but lifted his hips so that Alex could ease a pillow beneath them.

“Is that better?”

“Bloody hell, Alex, so help me if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to have a relapse!”

Alex grabbed the lube, slicked two fingers then plunged them in to Conor’s greedy channel. Conor’s body seemed to suck him in and didn’t want to let him go. Alex scissored his fingers, keeping Conor in place with a hand on his arse. Conor howled.

“Please, please, please, please… How many times do I have to beg?”

“Please, what?” Alex asked as he pushed his fingers in and out, stretching and probing. “I’m getting a little forgetful in my old age. Remind me what you wanted again?”

“Damn it, Alex! Need you in me…” Conor pleaded, clutching at the sheets.

Alex decided not to make it too easy. “I couldn’t hear you,” he whispered in Conor’s ear. “What did you say?”

“Fuck me, you bastard!”

“Oh I see. Well, I suppose…if you really want me to…” He kept moving his fingers slowly in and out.

At Conor’s pitiful whimper, Alex caved. He stroked and kissed the curve of Conor’s arse before penetrating him with his well-lubed cock. He took care to be gentle, but pushed deep inside Conor’s body.

He started to move in slow increments at first, giving Conor a chance to adjust. Another minute or so passed before Alex was convinced that Conor wasn’t hurting too much and he began to push a little harder. Conor started begging him to go faster, but instead Alex aimed for that special bundle of nerves that made Conor scream. He smiled and hit the spot again and again, knowing that the sensation would make Conor forget any pain he was in. Conor’s answer was to clench his muscles tighter. Alex’s measured pace wasn’t just driving Conor mad, it was doing a pretty good job on Alex too. The gradual build of sensation became more and more intense until Alex thought he would explode.

Being very careful of Conor’s injuries, Alex rolled Conor onto his side then curled around his lover’s body. He slung a leg over Conor’s hip, pinning them together and thrust deeper. He reached across Conor’s body with a lube-slicked hand and gripped his burning-hot, rock-hard dick then Alex moved his hand in time with the thrust of his hips. Conor gasped and pushed back hard. Alex could feel the orgasm building within his lover until Conor’s neck arched and without warning he filled Alex’s hand with warm fluid. Alex held Conor as close as he dared, feeling Conor’s channel constrict around him as his lover’s muscles spasmed again. His own release fired into velvet heat and his body shook with pleasure as Conor milked him dry.

Still locked together, Alex stroked Conor’s softening cock and whispered, “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He brushed Conor’s neck with his lips, tasting the salt on his skin.

“If you did, I didn’t notice. The painkillers are really good.” Conor chuckled. “How long before we can do that again?”

Alex groaned and slid carefully from Conor’s body. “Give an old man a break! I need sleep and a shower. Actually a shower then sleep. That might be a better plan.”

Conor rolled onto his back and looked up into Alex’s eyes. “You are a little sticky.”

“And whose fault is that?” Alex kissed him and nipped at his lip. “I think you should join me in the shower and clean up your mess.”

“You know, if we shower together, it’s going to be a while before you get back to bed?”

Alex gave one of Conor’s nipples a gentle tweak. “I’ll cope.”

* * * *

Conor returned to work three days later. His shoulder was still tightly strapped but most of the bruising on the rest of his body had faded to a dull greenish yellow and didn’t hurt anymore. The lump on his head had gone down and he had weaned himself off four-hourly doses of strong painkillers and could manage with the occasional paracetomol. He brushed off the banter about how hard his head must be and focused on the work.

Pete and Eric had diligently covered all the interviews he’d had set up before the hit and run. Stuck on desk duty, he could concentrate on reading, absorbing and cross-referencing all the information they had gathered. He commandeered a notice board, pinned photographs of everyone that had attended the opening of Leather and Lace on it in a grid and began to stick Post-it notes up next to the faces. His notes covered everything he knew, interesting and mundane. Anyone who could be completely dismissed because of a cast-iron alibi, he crossed out with red marker pen. That whittled his suspect gallery down from more than forty to less than twenty.

Satisfied that he hadn’t made any errors, Conor stripped the board and started again with the shorter list. Nineteen faces stared back at him, twelve men and seven women. Conor almost felt like he knew them. He’d spent more time looking at their faces than at his own family photograph album. He sighed and rubbed his neck. As he rolled it carefully, every joint seemed to creak. His shoulder was still sore and that made him tense. The office door creaked open and Conor glanced back to see who had arrived. He bit his lip as a sharp pain shot through his shoulder joint.

Alex strolled toward him, scowling.

“I suppose you’ve come down here to check up on me…sir?”

“I seem to recall saying at breakfast this morning that you shouldn’t go back to work yet. From the look of you, I was right.” Alex’s tone was all reprimand as he came over and stood in front of Conor’s display with his hands on his hips. Conor stiffened even more—they had argued the previous evening over his return to work and for once, Conor hadn’t given in. The make-up sex had been fantastic but Alex still held a grudge. He wasn’t a good loser and Conor knew he would pay over and over for standing his ground. He’d suffered through breakfast as Alex had come up with a thousand different reasons why he should stay at home.

“Yes you did, sir. This morning, last night… Many, many times. But here I am.” Conor’s voice betrayed his impatience and there were a couple of sniggers from the desks behind him. Alex swept the room with icy eyes and put an immediate stop to that.

“So, as it seems I am unable to convince your stubborn arse to recuperate properly, perhaps you can tell me if you’ve made any progress? We don’t seem to have moved forward much in the last few days. The boss is getting itchy and my rear is on the line.”

Conor swallowed hard and tried to disassociate mental images of Alex’s arse from the job in hand.

In hand—wouldn’t I just love to get a grip on that thick, hard… Fuck.
Deliberately he shrugged his sore shoulder and the shard of agony brought him back to his less enjoyable reality.

“I’ve been concentrating on narrowing the field of suspects.” He gestured at the photographs. “I’ve already got rid of the people whose alibis have been tested and held up. Most of this lot have alibis as well, but they could have been manipulated. They have either been provided by family members or they are impossible to corroborate. However, there are two men that I am particularly interested in. This guy”—he pointed to a picture of a heavyset man with dark, narrow eyes and a thick beard—“was seen talking to our journalist at the opening party. He’s gone off the radar and we haven’t been able to track him down again. He gave a false name and address.” Conor looked thoughtful. “Of course he could be hiding something completely unrelated. Then there’s this one—” He pointed again, this time to a picture of a younger man with reddish hair and a neat goatee. “He has a record for aggravated assault and again, he’s proving to be somewhat elusive.”

Alex stared at the two pictures. “There’s something about the first guy that seems familiar.” He shook his head. “Nothing’s coming to me. He could just look similar to someone else I know.”

“Well, it might be sexist, but I’m going to start with the men. The coroner’s report said significant force was used to subdue our victims and the stab wounds were deep. They would have taken strength. That doesn’t rule out a woman but it makes it less likely.”

Alex nodded. “Agreed. I’ve got some folders of stuff from Adrian Hamilton’s flat. There was nothing of interest at the newspaper office but he may have been working on other things freelance. I haven’t had a moment free to go through them, so I’ll bring them down. You can take a look and see if you can spot any connections.” He glanced at his watch. “You can work on them for an hour or so, but then I’m taking you home. I can work from there and you still need to rest.”

Conor caught Higgs’ grin out of the corner of his eye and sighed. He was never going to live this down. Alex left to fetch the folders, and Conor turned on his colleagues. “Laugh it up, guys. He’d be exactly the same if one of you had been hurt.”

Higgs snorted. “I was laughing at you, son. None of us would have dared come in to work if he said to stay at home. You really like playing with fire, don’t you?”

“He’s acting like my mother,” Conor muttered.

“He cares. Let him. Stop fighting it.”

Conor wandered across to his desk and sat down. “I feel really uncomfortable about this case, Sarge. I want it done. I’ve got this nagging feeling that I’m missing something really bloody obvious. There’s an itch between my shoulder blades that I can’t quite scratch.”

An older woman who Conor recognized as the Chief Inspector’s personal assistant pushed her way through the door. Higgs rushed to hold it open then relieved her of the pile of files balanced precariously in her arms.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said with some relief. “Inspector Courtney asked me to deliver these. He said you were expecting them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Higgs dumped the folders on the edge of Conor’s desk then rushed back to hold the door open again. He closed it behind the departing woman and turned around. “First one of you to make even a hint of a comment about old-fashioned chivalry will find himself on traffic duty for a month, and you know that’s not an idle threat.”

Conor ducked his head and suppressed a snigger. He put Adrian Hamilton’s documents to one side. They could wait for the evening. He’d read them in bed if necessary. Alex wasn’t the only one who could work from home. He spent the next hour making calls, pulling in favors, and looking for leads on his two mystery men. Hopefully, someone would come through with something by the morning. He considered it time well spent. A new lead often came from the most unexpected source and he was prepared to try anything.

Chapter Ten

Exactly
one hour after he’d left, Alex appeared at the door and crooked a finger at Conor, his face expressionless.

“You. Home. Now.”

Conor couldn’t help but bridle at his tone and had to force himself to think about Sarge’s advice. He didn’t have to be stubborn. He could just accept that the man who loved him wanted him to be safe. He grabbed his jacket, picked up his pile of files and followed Alex meekly out to the car park. He managed to resist making any sarcastic comments on the entire journey home, even though Alex kept shooting him suspicious glances. When they got back to the house, Conor waited in his seat while Alex circled the car and opened the door for him.