A Forest of Corpses (4 page)

A burst of pain shot through my shoulders and I cried out, a muffled groan that he responded to with whispered words demanding my silence, "Hush, boy. Stop fighting. This is 32

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going to happen. Enjoy it. I know I will," he whispered hoarsely.

His fingers traced a pattern down my trembling skin, slipping under my jock and shoving it aside. He cradled my swollen cock in one hand, his thumb slowly circling the head, spreading the wetness of my precum, tugging at my balls before wrapping his fingers around my prick and stroking me.

I fucked his fist, feeling my balls crawl up as my orgasm approached. But before I could let go, he pulled his hand away and stepped back, leaving me shaking with need. I humped the air, silently begging him to come back.

His breath stuttered on my shoulder, then his lips and tongue sampled my skin, sliding over the Chinese tattoo on my neck. "Fate," he murmured. I shivered when he slipped the buttons of my shirt open, exposing my chest to his touch.

He stroked the skin below my pecs, over my bird of paradise tattoo. I sucked in my breath when he roughly stroked my pierced nipples. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful."

Then he wrenched the shirt off my shoulders, further binding my arms. It took him about two seconds to drag my jeans off, turning them inside out as he hauled them over my Nikes, forcing my legs apart with his knee.

He grabbed my hips in both hands and planted his mouth over my collarbone. I could feel my pulse under his lips. Then I could feel his thick cock between my ass cheeks. He nudged at my hole and I moaned my need, thrusting back against him, silently pleading with him to take me. But still, he held back. He wouldn't let himself go, like I knew he wanted to. I could feel his desire, but I could also feel his fear. The fear 33

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that he would lose it again, like he had those terrible months before.

"I've got you," he growled and slid his cock up my ass. I arched across the desk. He kissed my shoulder and plowed into me with long, smooth strokes that drove deep into my gut. His hand wrapped around my cock again, this time his strokes were hard and unforgiving. His other hand swept over my chest, pinching my nipple; his cock pulsed deep inside me. His fingers left bruises on my hips as he kept pumping into me, gasping and groaning, his heart hammering in his chest. His breath gusted hot on my damp skin. After moments of sheer torture, he brought me to a screaming climax. If I wasn't too breathless to shout, the whole campus would have known what we were doing.

He kept pumping into me, his thrusts brutal. He moaned against my throat, then with a yell, emptied himself into me.

"Oh fuck, baby," he whispered, pulling out of me with a soft kiss on my shoulder.

He released the cuffs and spun me around to face him. He pulled my shirt back up, leaving it undone, exposing my heaving chest. Grabbing a handful of Kleenexes from a box on the desk he wiped my stomach and flaccid cock clean of spunk. Then he cleaned the desk and tossed the dirty Kleenex into the trash. His hands came up and cupped my face. His thumbs traced my lips. His eyes, gray and sated, looked down at me from behind his glasses.

"So," his voice still shaking, "how was your day?"

I tried to keep from laughing. "Pretty so-so." I traced the outline of his hip and leered. "At least until my professor took 34

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advantage of me. I've never been fucked by one of my teachers before. If I'd known it would be this good, I'd have gone back to school years ago." I rubbed my wrists and looked at him slyly. "Tell me you really didn't want me to come to your class today."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not your professor, Jason. That would be so wrong." He nuzzled my throat, nipping my skin, his tongue licking and tasting the salt from my flesh. His grin was lazy when our eyes met again. "I could get into serious shit doing something like that." His look grew stern. "And you'd better not fuck anyone else around here."

"Wouldn't think of it, Detective Alex. So, how is it, trying to inspire all these wannabe cops?" Of course, it had really been his idea to meet following his lecture. His orders, really. Even down to pretending I was disobeying him. He knew the building would be empty of staff this time of day. We could indulge in "our play" as he called it. I had been all too happy to comply with his orders. "Or should that be professor?"

He stuffed his cock back in his pants, smoothed his uniform and shoved his handcuffs back in his pocket. With a shrug of his shoulders he straightened his belt and the Beretta and other gear it held. Shortly after we moved in together he had insisted I go out with him to a public firing range where he taught me how to shoot. I wasn't going to win any ribbons, not like him, but at least I would no longer shoot my foot off either. I ran my fingers over his thick, military-short hair. The nap of it bristled under my questing fingers. His body was so perfect, every inch of him. I could never get tired of exploring it. I curled my finger around his 35

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ear lobe, feeling the incredibly soft flesh there. "I'm surprised you didn't wear your hat. Isn't that part of the look?"

He grimaced. "Those things give me a headache. You think it was too much?"

"It was just about perfect. You made all the schoolgirls wet and half the boys hard. I heard that kid's question. You get a lot like that?"

"Sometimes they ask inappropriate questions. If it reflects an ingrained attitude, I'm sure the psych tests will pick up on it before they get into the Academy. If they don't drop out before they even reach that point." He smiled crookedly.

"Don't you think it's time we went home?"

"Sure," I said. "Got plans for the weekend, professor?"

He pulled me into his embrace. "Nothing that doesn't involve you. If you like we can go into town for dinner."

"Yes, please."

"Holdren's sound good to you?" he asked.

That's where our first date had started. It had ended up with his dick up my ass, but then most of our dinners out ended up that way.

"Yes, Sir," I said. "Always."

I straightened, pulled my jeans back up and would have headed toward the door, but he stopped me with a touch.

"Sir?"

"I have something for you. With this trip coming up, it might be even more useful."

"Sir?"

He opened his briefcase and pulled out a small package, which he handed me without fanfare.

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I opened it and stared down at the black iPhone. Frowning, I met his steady gaze. "I have a cell."

"But this one is better. I can find you anywhere with this.

It's got full GPS, a digital compass and just about all the bells and whistles."

Finally it dawned on me what he had done. "You Lojacked me."

"Every minute of every day. How many times do I have to tell you your ass is mine?"

"You Lojacked my ass?" Then I grinned. I should have been pissed, but the idea was flattering—and very arousing.

"Lojacked and owned. Come on." He grabbed my arm and steered me toward the door. "Let's go eat. We can talk more at home."

"You can test out my new device." I walked my fingers up his chest, then raised my eyes to stare at his mouth.

Studying the light reddish stubble of five o'clock shadow on his cheeks and chin. "You can find me and when you do, you can take advantage of me. Then maybe we can try out that new butt plug."

"You bet I will." His grip tightened on my arm. "After you do your homework."

I made a face, which he ignored. Then I brightened again.

"Are we really going on vacation?"

"Only if you get all As."

"Oh I will, professor. Trust me, I will."

"Good, then there's no problem, is there?"

Funny, he still didn't sound convinced. I leaned against his broad chest and smiled. I knew my Alex would only do this 37

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because he wanted to, not because I asked. But it was nice of him to let me think he was doing it for my own good.

He took my chin in his hand and tilted my head up. His intense gaze probed mine and I found myself a little breathless. He held my eyes prisoner, then with his thumb, brushed my open mouth.

"Come on," he whispered. "Let's get out of here."

"Yes, Sir."

* * * *

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The next day, I dropped Jason off at the University on my way into town. We'd meet up later in the day. Again, I beat both Miguel and Nancy in. While I waited for them, I listened to the 911 tape again. My first stop this morning would be another visit to the pay phone where the call had originated.

The first two times we had swung by had yielded nothing. It remained a long shot, but maybe somebody had seen something and sooner or later we'd find them. And persuade them to talk.

The market employee we had talked to told us the manager would be in this morning, so we were heading back.

Meanwhile, I needed to catch Nancy and put in my vacation request. I rarely took holidays, had never seen a need. But then I'd never had anyone I wanted to go away with.

I spent the wait time fielding phone calls and going over old case books.

Miguel came in right on Nancy's heels. I opted to tackle Nancy first. I caught her as she was booting up her PC, ready to check her overnight messages in her Inbox. She looked up at my knock.

"Yes, Detective?"

"Dominguez and I are heading back to the market to talk to the manager. Maybe he saw something no one else did."

"We can hope, right?" She saw me hesitate and cocked her head. For the first time I noticed her hair was silvering. Had it always been there, or had she stopped coloring it? Whatever 39

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the reason, it gave her a distinguished look. Maybe that was the point. "Something else?" she prompted.

"I'd like to put in for some vacation time."

She stared at me for several heartbeats. "Vacation?"

"Yeah, you know, days off. Ten days to be exact."

"Since when do you take vacations?"

"Jay wants us to go camping." I knew what was coming next. She didn't disappoint.

She crowed with laughter. "Camping? You?"

"Yes." I ground my teeth. "Me."

"My God, what that man does to you. Alexander Spider, mister-I-don't-care-about-anybody. A domesticated Spiderman. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Are you going to go on, or are you going to approve my holidays?"

"Sure. Consider them yours. Send me the forms with the dates, I'll okay them. Give my best to Jason, will you?

Haven't seen the guy since, well, you know..."

I frowned. I didn't like remembering the circumstances she was referring to. Jason had nearly died at the hands of a grieving father who had carried his revenge too far. I had also nearly lost him to another set of unfortunate events that were entirely my fault. We managed to get past those days, but they still hung over me like an uneasy cloud. Maybe a vacation was just what we needed to get all the way past that, and back to what we had before I screwed things up.

I returned to find Miguel on the phone listening intently to whoever was on the other end. He met my gaze and his eyes hardened. He sat straighter, leaning back in his chair, lips 40

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crimped in a thin line. The boy was going to have to learn to park his personal issues at the door when he came to work.

Either that, or ask for a transfer. Miguel hung up with a snap of his wrist then twisted his arm around to study the face of his watch.

"That was trace. They got results of the material collected at the crime scene. Fabric threads pulled off the vic's clothes and corpus were a red and gray polyester blend."

I frowned. It was an easy thing to dehumanize the victims.

Never a good path to go down. I knew. It was something I struggled with all the time. "The
victim
has a name, Detective Dominguez. Isaac Simpson."

He flushed, eyes flashing at the rebuke. "There's more, sir.

The trace technician also pulled some animal hairs off the vic—off Mr. Simpson—and determined they're dog hairs.

Unknown breed, but something with long hair, like a collie, only white. We want them tested for breed, we have to send them out to CFSI."

And wait a year for the results if we were lucky. CFSI, L.A.

County's newest forensic lab serviced the LAPD and LASD, which would be higher on their priority list than a Santa Barbara mystery dog.

"Collie?" I tried to remember what a collie dog looked like.

"Ah, Lassie. Anyone in the area have a dog? Do collies come in white?"

"No, but Shih Tzus do, or Samoyeds."

I looked at him and he grudgingly admitted, "The kids want a dog. They like those two. And poodles." He grimaced, and this time it wasn't because of me.

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"So let's go ask someone if there are any long-haired white dogs in the area."

"I was just going back to canvas it."

"Then let's go do it."

I drove, leaving Miguel to fill out reports. I don't let other people drive me around. We found the manager of the Milpas market stocking beer in his cooler when we entered the empty store at nine minutes past nine. He stared at the badges we flashed, taking his time, studying each one like he was looking for something to explain why we were in his store. From the broken red veins on his thick nose I figured him for someone who drank his own product.

Wiping his hands on the front of his gabardine pants held up by a worn belt, he kept piling cans into the cooler. A massive belly protruded over the too-tight belt.

"Mr. Hardy?" I asked. He nodded. I badged him again.