When life gives you lemons, sometimes it’s not enough to
make lemonade…instead, make margaritas.

Detective Ryan Straton is known as the happy-go-lucky
playboy of the precinct, the consummate bachelor of the
department. At a Halloween party, he enjoys admiring the
eye-candy, including a lovely lady—who he learns is Doctor
Morgan Pruitt—dressed as Marilyn Monroe. When Ryan
stumbles across Morgan getting backed into a corner by a
trio of men, he plays hero and rescues her. He’s shocked to
be offered a blowjob in thanks, but quickly gets on board
when the woman proves just how adept she is with her
hands…and her mouth.

When the deed is done, Ryan discovers that Morgan isn’t

a woman, and he’s just received the best blowjob of his life
from a man. As he’s done with every woman he’s bedded
for over a decade, he plans to move on and forget about
Morgan. Except, Ryan finds himself dreaming about his red
lips and slender, agile hands. Getting advice from his
friends—treat him like any woman who’d caught his eye—
love ’em and leave ’em—Ryan wonders if it would be that
easy. Once he’s had Morgan, would that end his obsession?
Or would it only feed it?

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this
copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright
infringement, including infringement without monetary
gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to
5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and
do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of
copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights
is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents either are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

Lifting Techniques

ISBN: 978-1-4874-0114-6

Cover art by Angela Waters

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part
in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means,
now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without
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Lifting Techniques

Carry Me: Book Four

Charlie Richards

Dedication

To all those wonderful fans who continued to press for Detective

Ryan Straton’s happily ever after. This one’s for you.

Chapter One

ulling up to the house containing the crime scene,
Detective Ryan Straton immediately spotted his partner

on the force, Detective Carl Lewis. Keeping half his focus on
the muscular, dirty-blond haired male as he parked, Ryan
saw when Carl crossed his arms over his chest and smirked
at him.

Ryan pushed the car door open and swung out of the

low-slung vehicle. “Shut up,” he snarled, crossing to where
Carl stood.

Carl held up both hands in front of him, palms out in the

universal hey, all peace, man move. Adding to the signal, he
claimed, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Ryan replied, shoving first one arm,

then the second, into his jacket. He pulled the light coat
around him, grateful for the barrier against the cold, since
his long-sleeve dress shirt did nothing to keep the chill out.
“Your look said it all,” Ryan grumbled. He zipped his jacket
halfway up as he lifted one eyebrow and cocked his head
toward his car.

Turning toward the vehicle, Carl snorted. He took a

couple of steps and crossed to it. “Come on. You’ve owned
this seventy-eight Stingray for four years and you’ve never
brought it to a crime scene.” He glanced up at the sky. “And
it’s threatening to rain.”

Ryan followed his partner’s gaze upward and grimaced at

the slate-gray clouds gathering overhead. Then, he returned
his focus to his metallic, dark-green classic car and

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wondered how much shit his buddies on the force would
give him if he pulled the cover from the trunk and covered
his vehicle.

Awe, shit. Fuck ’em.
“It was beautiful, if cold, last night, and I didn’t think I’d

get too many more chances to show her off before the snow
falls,” Ryan told him. He popped the trunk and pulled out
the rain cover. “Give me a hand.”

Carl stood still for just a second, his gaze raking over first

the car, then Ryan, and his eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Were
you still in her bed?” he asked, while finally taking a side of
the cover.

“Yep,” Ryan responded, spreading out the fabric.

Together, they spread it over the vehicle and tucked it
around the car. “And let me tell you,” he grumbled. “She
sure didn’t like being woken up at the ass crack of dawn on
a Sunday.”

“Hmm,” Carl hummed. “The idea of being with a

detective always seems so much better to most people than
the actual reality.”

Done wrapping his Stingray, Ryan barked out a laugh.

“Really? Being with? This is me you’re talking to.” He strode
to his friend and clapped his hand onto the other detective’s
shoulder. “Not Jake.” His grin widened at Carl’s narrowed
gaze. “My date was very accommodating, letting me into her
panties. The fucking was very enjoyable. I’d planned on some
great morning sex before losing her number.” Ryan smirked
as he shrugged. “It got interrupted, and now I don’t have to
come up with some excuse to never see her again.”

Carl grimaced. “Yes, I do appreciate you not speaking like

that around my kids.”

Ryan chuckled. He slid the hand he still had on Carl’s

shoulder around the man’s back until he draped his arm
around the slightly taller man. “You have good kids, Carl.
I’ll never tell them what a potty mouth you really have.” He

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finished his words with a wink, then shoved the man away.
He’d never do anything to scar his partner and best friend’s
son and daughter, Jake and Lorna.

Growling, Carl glared at him. “Fucker.”
Laughing, Ryan nodded. “There’s my partner. Now let’s

do this.”

Carl rolled his eyes and turned away, heading up the

sidewalk toward the small, cottage-style home. As Ryan
followed his partner, he spotted a slender, black-haired man
standing at the doorway. The guy stood maybe five foot
seven, had pale skin, and couldn’t have been more than a
buck-twenty soaking wet. He rung his hands before him and
his eyes were red-rimmed.

Poor twink. This has to be the guy that found our vic.
Giving himself a mental shake—I’m not supposed to

categorize our witnesses—Ryan realized that two years ago, he
wouldn’t even have known what twink meant.

A lot has changed.
He focused on his partner, using the last couple of strides

until they reached the house to take in his dirty-blond hair,
bronzed skin, and strong lines. Never once in their
partnership had Carl indicated that he found men desirable.
Then, two years before, everything had changed.

Ryan’s partner had shocked the shit out of everyone on

the force when he’d fallen for Vincent Androse, a male
firefighter. Carl had stood beside his best friend and partner,
facing off against the bigotry in the department. While they
still heard the occasional snide comment or muttered
remark, no one had the balls to say anything to their faces.

It helped that Ryan and his partner had one of the best

closure ratings.

Now, Ryan knew words like twink and bear and gym rat,

as well as a number of other classifications that gay men
gave to each other. He’d even ventured to a gay bar a couple
of times with Carl and his gay friends. It’d been

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uncomfortable until he’d turned his brain off and just
danced…and shit, some of those young guys could move.
He could admit, to himself anyway, that the feel of a tight
ass rubbing against him—even one he knew was a guy’s—
was a fucking turn-on. He’d gone home, put on some porn,
and gotten off twice.

Pulling his mind away from thoughts of the past, Ryan

focused on Carl, who spoke with the officer at the door.
“And Chance Lauder found the victim?” Carl confirmed.

“That’s right, Detective Lewis,” Officer Stewart Bellows

confirmed.

“We’ll need to talk to him,” Carl reminded Stewart. He

glanced over his shoulder at Ryan. “Cursory look at the
scene first?”

Ryan nodded, although he knew he didn’t need to. He

and Carl always looked at the scene before talking to
witnesses, but even after establishing the MO, his partner
still conferred with him. His respect for his partner
accounted in part for his backing him when he came out as
bisexual. The man deserved happiness after the hell his ex-
wife had put him through. Just because Carl decided he
liked dick, it didn’t mean he couldn’t do his job. Hell, if
anything, he was better. Vincent actually supported him,
instead of tearing him down and causing trouble at home
that distracted him.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Ryan followed Carl into

the home. He glanced around, taking in the scene of
destruction. To his right, the small living area sported what
was once probably a comfortable relaxing space. Now,
though, the sofa and chair cushions had been yanked from
the furniture, slashed, and strewn about the place.

Peering left into the dining room, Ryan saw that the small

table and several of the chairs had been tipped over. A glass
vase, maybe one that had been resting on the overturned

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table, lay shattered on the floor. One of the chairs even had
the leg broken off, the leg lying against the far wall. Through
an archway, Ryan saw that the kitchen, too, appeared to be a
disaster, cupboard doors hanging open and broken dishes
and glasses shattered across the floor and counters.

Carl whistled. “Someone was very angry,” he mumbled.
Ryan nodded absently as he carefully picked his way

toward the back of the home. When Carl stopped to crouch
next to red shoe-prints on the hardwood floor near the
sliding glass door leading to a patio, Ryan moved around
him to the bedroom.

“God damned—” Ryan cut off the rest of his curse, even

though he could think of a few more that he’d really like to
say.

The destruction in the rest of the house had nothing on

the mayhem of the bedroom. Closet doors hung half off the
sliding tracks, only a few hangers dangled from the bar, and
most of the dresser and nightstand drawers had been
emptied. The tops of the dresser and nightstands were
cleared, whatever contents they’d held now lay broken and
strewn across the floor. Not one inch of bedroom carpet
remained visible.

In the middle of the room, on the bed, lay the victim, Luke

Morley. The young man was naked, blood pooling around
him. Multiple stab wounds covered the man’s chest and
stomach, although most of them were centered at his groin.
Ryan fought back a shudder as bile burned the back of his
throat. He couldn’t keep the hairs from standing up on the
back of his neck.

“Well, damn,” Carl whispered from directly behind him.

“Poor guy.”

Ryan just kept from startling and he glanced over his

shoulder at his partner. Refocusing on the scene, he nodded
absently.

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“What’s with the nightstand? That drawer is the only one

not dumped,” Carl commented.

Having noticed, Ryan wondered the same thing. “Mac,”

he called to the man in the room photographing the scene.
“Are you ready for us?”

Macon Windsor, Mac to his friends, looked their way and

nodded. “Yeah, I’m done here, Detectives.” He placed the
lens cap on the camera and glanced around, grimacing. “I
could have lived my whole life without seeing this,” he
muttered as he headed toward them.

“Me, too,” Ryan admitted. He stepped back to allow the

man to pass, bumping against Carl in the process.

“Sorry,” Carl muttered, his hand going to Ryan’s lower

back to steady him as they both moved out of the tech’s way.

Ryan noted from the corner of his eye that like him, Carl

didn’t seem capable of pulling his focus away from the
scene. It’d been a long time since Ryan had seen anything
quite this brutal and…angry. Carefully, Ryan led the way
into the room, stepping gingerly around the piles of clothes,
men’s accessories, picture frames, and other miscellaneous
items.

Reaching the drawer, Carl at his side, Ryan used a glove-

covered hand to ease the drawer open the rest of the way.
His brows lifted upon seeing the contents. The dildo he
recognized because how could he not? It looked like the
average dick, except blue and made of silicone. The other
items, well, except for the lube and condoms, he couldn’t
identify.

Ryan crouched beside the drawer and peered up at his

partner. He suppressed a chuckle upon spotting Carl’s slight
flush. Lifting a brow, he didn’t bother stopping his smirk.
Hell, he welcomed any levity in a situation like this.

“You recognize some of these?” Ryan teased.

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Carl yanked his focus from the drawer and met his gaze.

After clearing his throat, he rumbled gruffly. “Yes. Uh, butt
plugs, a cock ring, and, uh—” He paused, clearing his throat
again. “An anal vibrator. Looks like maybe some anal beads
in the back and—”

His own face flushing with blood, Ryan held up his

gloved hands. “Okay. Uh, more than I needed to know at the
moment. Our poor friend liked his toys.”

“Yeah, he did,” Carl murmured, his brows crinkling. He

met Ryan’s gaze. “Does that mean our murderer didn’t?”

“Good question,” Ryan responded, and it was. So many

possibilities zipped through his mind, but he shut them
down, not wanting his speculation to impact his ability to
read the facts accurately. “Let’s get this done.”

Over the next hour, Ryan and Carl worked the scene and

spoke with the witness. They learned that their victim, Luke,
had a date planned for Saturday night, but Chance couldn’t
tell them the man’s name. When his friend hadn’t shown up
for coffee the next morning, Chance had gone to his home.
He’d called for Luke, then peeked through the window.
Seeing the disaster inside, Chance had used his key to get in
and found Luke’s body. At that point in the guy’s tale,
Chance had started bawling and a female officer had eased
him into the passenger seat of her car and attempted to calm
him.

Sighing, Ryan leaned against Carl’s sedan and crossed his

arms over his chest. He tipped his head back and allowed
his eyelids to slide to half-mast. Looking at the gray overcast
sky, he muttered, “What do you think? Related to Tuesday’s
murder?”

They’d found a young man beaten and murdered in an

alley behind a coffee shop. The violence had been similar,
multiple stab wounds, ligature marks on the wrists and
ankles, and sticky residue around the mouth, indicating he’d

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been tied up with rope and gagged with tape. While that
man had obviously been dumped as opposed to being found
in his home, both men were gay.

“It’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Carl responded

softly.

Ryan uncrossed his arms and once again focused on his

partner. Rubbing a hand over his beard-covered jaw and
mouth, he realized from the slightly vacant expression on his
partner’s face, not to mention his own jumbled thoughts,
that they needed something else to think about, even if only
for a few minutes, so their minds could decompress.

Lifting his wrist, Ryan glanced at the date displayed on

his watch. “Isn’t Jake’s driving test Wednesday afternoon?”

His partner’s just-turned-seventeen-year-old son had

been jumping at the bit to get his license for over a year.
Rhonda, Jake’s mother and Carl’s ex, had been the one to
originally teach Jake, but after the young man had failed his
first driving test, Carl had taken over. That was six months
before. Now, Jake was up for another test.

Ryan watched with amusement as the blood drained from

Carl’s face and he grimaced. “A week from Wednesday,
actually,” he stated the admission as if it caused physical
pain.

Unable to help it, Ryan snorted. “You handle a crime

scene like that,” he stated, pointing toward the house fifty
feet away with his thumb. “But the idea of your son driving
causes you to pale?” He’d noticed the immediate tension
tighten his partner’s shoulders as well as his suddenly ashen
face.

Carl met his gaze and frowned. “He won’t tell me why he

failed his first test, and neither will Rhonda. I’ve driven with
him for six months and can’t figure out why he failed. He
drives fine,” he admitted.

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“Huh. I don’t remember you ever saying Jake had trouble

with tests,” he mused.

“Well, he obviously did with this one,” Carl grumbled.

Shaking his head, he lifted a brow as he met Ryan’s gaze.
“Some detective, huh?”

Ryan shrugged. “We have the hardest time seeing

problems in our own lives. That’s just the way it is,” he
pointed out. As he watched his friend nod, a thought struck
him. “Hey, why don’t we set up a mock driving test, and I’ll
give it to him. Maybe he’ll open up to someone else.”

Carl’s brows shot up. “Really? You’d do that?”
Smiling at his friend, Ryan winked. “I am a fucking

detective. Maybe I’ll see something your sorry ass didn’t
spot.”

Carl shook his head even as a smile toyed at the corners of

his lips. “Only because I’m Jake’s father, jackass,” he
grumbled.

Ryan snickered. “In return, you follow me to my house so

I can put my car away, then you can drive us to the precinct.
Oh, and donuts and coffee are on you.” Sobering he added,
“So much for a Sunday off. We have a hell of a lot of work to
do.” He turned and headed toward his covered car.

“Sure.” Carl called, “Hey, Vince’s department Halloween

party is on Saturday night. You wanna come?”

Pulling the sheet off of his vehicle, Ryan tried to

remember if he had a date set up for the weekend. Just
because he had to cancel half the time didn’t mean he
wouldn’t take advantage of the weekends he actually did get
off.

Nope, he couldn’t think of anything. “Firehouse bunnies

always show up to those things, right?” he asked, pausing to
grin widely at his partner.

Carl shook his head even as he snorted. “You are such a

horny fucker.”

Charlie Richards

“Is that a yes?” Ryan pressed, not bothering to censor his

cheeky expression.

“Of course, of course,” Carl responded.

Sexy hotties in skimpy costumes? Hell, yeah!
“Text me the time and place,” Ryan ordered before

shoving his cover into his trunk and climbing behind the
wheel of his car. As he pulled away from the curb, he
spotted Carl doing the same. By the time he reached the next
intersection, his mind had returned to their cases, and he
mentally flipped through the facts.

Lifting Techniques

Chapter Two

octor Morgan Pruitt set the cup of disgusting hospital
coffee down on the side table and flopped onto the

semi-comfortable stuffed sofa. Groaning, he settled his head
against the backrest and closed his eyes.

Two hours. I can make it two more hours.
Hearing the door to the staff room creak, Morgan pried

open one eyelid and watched paramedic Randy Coughlan
stride into the room. The door swung shut automatically
when he released the handle. Randy headed for the coffee
machine and grimaced at the selection.

“Awe, shit. Is this all you got? This cheap-ass shit?”
Chuckling, Morgan opened his eyes all the way and lifted

his head. “Yep. Afraid so. If you want gourmet coffee, go to
a coffee shop,” he told him.

Randy heaved a sigh and poured a cup. After dumping a

liberal amount of sugar into it, he grabbed a swizzle stick
and, as he stirred, headed to the sofa across from Morgan. “I
don’t know how you stay awake drinking this sludge,” he
griped, easing onto the cushion, careful to keep from spilling
his drink.

Morgan grinned. “I think the lousy taste is one of the

things that keeps us going,” he admitted, reaching for his
own mug. He grimaced as he chugged down a couple of
swallows. Then he yawned, his jaw popping.

Barking a laugh, Randy lifted his own mug in salute.

“Yep, it’s working great.”

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Heaving a sigh, Morgan rolled his eyes. “You know the

caffeine takes a second to kick in,” he muttered. He rubbed
his forehead as he peered at his friend. “Your shift over?”

Randy shook his head. “Nope. Wade and I just brought in

an accident victim,” he admitted. “I told Wade I needed to
piss and get some coffee.”

Morgan had met Randy a couple of years ago when he’d

been teamed up with Wade Sloan. The pair drove an
ambulance for a company that serviced a couple of the
hospitals in the area. While Morgan considered them more
acquaintances than friends, they had hung out a time or two.

“You decided to make a special trip to the third floor

break room for our shit coffee?” Morgan teased the man.

Randy flipped him off. “Then, I guess you don’t want to

know about the costume party this Saturday?” he
responded, although his tone was amused, not angry.

Morgan’s fatigue fled at the other man’s words. “Costume

party?”

His friends probably thought him a queen, but he loved

dressing up. Every Halloween he’d create an elaborate
costume, from superheroes—he’d been Robin once, as well
as Daredevil—to mythical creatures—the scantily clad elf
had been fun. He’d even dressed up as women a couple of
times.

Chuckling, Randy nodded. “Donna says you’re a fan of

them.”

“Totally,” Morgan responded, pleased his fellow

physician, Doctor Donna Rysling, had thought of him.

His second year of medical school, Morgan had been

booting up his laptop in preparation to take notes during his
anatomy class when a slender blonde he didn’t recognize sat
down next to him. She’d grinned in obvious flirtation, swept
her gaze over Morgan’s lean form boldly, and leaned toward
him.

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“Hey, handsome,” she’d purred. “My name’s Donna. My

friends and I have a bet going that I can’t get you to kiss
me.” Donna had leaned even closer. With her forearm on the
armrest between them, she’d rested her breasts upon it,
pushing up the small, pert mounds, show-casing them in the
low-cut peasant blouse. “What do you say? Care to help me
prove them wrong?”

Having been out and proud since he was fifteen, Morgan

had gaped for about two seconds. Then, he’d glanced over
her shoulder and spotted a group of three watching them.
The two women had their heads bent together as they
whispered to each other. If they’d been trying to be discreet,
they’d been doing a horrible job of it.

The third person, a broad-shouldered, dark-haired male

had watched openly, a smirk curving his wide lips. A
smattering of facial hair had graced his jaw, telling how he
hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. When he’d met
Morgan’s gaze, the guy’s smirk had widened into a broad
grin, showing off even white teeth.

Morgan had returned his focus to Donna and he’d leaned

close until their faces were only inches apart. Curving his
lips into a coy smile, he’d stared deep into her sea-green
eyes, reading the mischief there. “Tell you what,” Morgan
had murmured. “I’ll gladly stick my tongue down your
throat in exchange for an introduction to your hunky friend
sporting the five o’clock shadow.”

Donna’s eyes had widened just a bit before she turned her

head and glanced over her shoulder. Coming back to focus
on Morgan, she’d whispered, “His name is Percy, and he’s
bisexual.”

“Hmm, what were his parents thinking?” Morgon had

murmured right before closing the gap between them and
sealing his lips over Donna’s. He kept the kiss light, pecking

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her lips once, twice, then pulling away. “I hope he has a
nickname.”

“He does,” Donna had assured. She winked. “It’s Big

Perce.”

Morgan had gaped, his eyes widening. The implications

of the name not lost on him, his asshole clenched. “Oh, god,”
he’d mumbled.

Donna had winked. “Yep.”
“Have you, uh—” Morgan had felt his face heat and he

knew he was blushing.

Damn!
Snickering, Donna had replied, “Nope. I’ve known him

forever, so no appeal for me. I did walk in on him changing
into his swimming trunks, once, though.” She’d winked
again. “Totally lives up to his name.”

Morgan hadn’t been able to help the soft moan that

escaped. His cock had thickened in his jeans. It’d been too
long since he’d had a good pounding. Morgan had known,
even then, that he was a total size queen and bottom boy.
The bigger the better.

“Damn,” Morgan had finally managed to pant.
Donna had snickered. “Okay. You give me a good one,

and after class, I’ll totally introduce you,” she’d promised.

More than willing to make that trade, Morgan had

reached out, cupped Donna jaw, and kissed her soundly. It
had been the one and only time he’d frenched her.

Percy, on the other hand, Morgan had enjoyed him as a

fuck-buddy for months…until the man had fallen hard for
the man who now happened to be his current significant
other. Morgan couldn’t say he’d been hurt, since he’d never
cared that much for the man.

On occasion, though, when Morgan used his biggest dildo

on himself, he still called out Percy’s name.

Morgan still hadn’t found a lover as hung as that man.
“So you’re interested, then?” Randy asked.

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Pulled back to the present, Morgan nodded. “Absolutely.

Where? When? I’d love to go.”

Randy grinned, his eyes twinkling, obviously amused by

his enthusiasm. “Saturday. It’s being put on by the
firefighters of the one-twenty-eighth.”

Morgan nodded, making a mental note. Something

nagged at his memory. “Hey, that’s where Dolan Fleishman
works, right?”

Chugging his coffee, Randy rose to his feet. “Yeah, do you

know him?”

“We, uh—” Morgan paused, his face flushing. “I hit on

him and he didn’t appreciate it.”

Randy scowled, setting his mug down. “What do you

mean? Did he hit you or something?”

Morgan shook his head as he rubbed his face, willing the

caffeine to hit his system. He never would have mentioned
this if his brain hadn’t been so tired. “No, just got in my face
is all,” he lied. In reality, Dolan had given him a black eye,
bruised his left kidney, and his ears had been left ringing
with the man cursing the epidemic that was fags.

“Oh, well, I’m gonna be there,” Randy assured. “So are

Trace and Vincent’s husbands. You won’t be without plenty
of support.”

An idea pushed into Morgan’s head. Finally. Caffeine. He

rose to his feet and downed the last of his own swill that
passed for coffee. “Don’t worry. It was last year, and I have a
costume that would fool my own mother.”

Chuckling, Randy headed toward the door. “Can’t wait to

see it.” At the door, he paused and turned back to him. “I’ll
text you the info.”

Morgan nodded his thanks before turning toward the

sink. He heard the door close behind him. A moment later,
while he was washing his mug, he heard it open again.

“Hey, hot stuff!”

Charlie Richards

Just holding back a cringe, Morgan set his now clean mug

in the drying rack and turned to face the woman. Nurse
Marian Seeger. Two months before, Marian had set her
sights on Morgan and she couldn’t seem to take no for an
answer, no matter how many times he said it.

After the fifth time she’d asked, Morgan had planned to

tell her off. Then, he’d learned that Marian’s mother had just
been diagnosed with cancer. He figured that learning about
her mother’s illness had caused her own biological clock to
start ticking. While Morgan figured she had enough on her
plate, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep
tolerating her come-ons. They were bordering on
inappropriate.

“Hello, Nurse Seeger,” Morgan replied, purposefully

using her title. “Randy was just here. I believe he left some
coffee in the pot.” Hoping he could leave it at that, Morgan
headed toward the door.

No such luck.
“Oh, Morgan,” Marian tittered as she sashayed toward

him.

How the woman thought moving like that in scrubs could

be sexy, Morgan did not know. That didn’t stop her though,
for Marian stepped in front of him and lifted her hands,
angling to place them on Morgan’s chest.

Morgan sidestepped neatly. Offering her a cool smile as

he lifted his left arm and swept her reaching hands away.
“Nurse Seeger,” he stated sternly. “We are coworkers. This
is not appropriate or welcome. Do not make me take this to
your supervisor.” He hadn’t really wanted to play that card,
but sexual harassment went both ways, and he really was
getting tired of it.

Marian appeared stricken for an instant, then her

expression settled into a coy smile. She moved past him
toward the coffee pot, and Morgan heard her murmured,
“Playing hard to get. So cute.”

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While Morgan didn’t want to encourage conversation, he

did wonder how she’d known he’d be in the third floor
break room. He normally took his coffee breaks in the fourth
floor room. Unable to withstand his curiosity, he asked,
“How’d you know I’d be up here?”

Shrugging one shoulder, Marian snorted. “Really? It

wasn’t that hard. The on duty nurse always enters where
doctors take their breaks just in case they’re needed.”

Morgan knew that, except— “Only a doctor’s code can

bring up that information,” he pressed. “Did someone need
me?”

“I wanted to talk to you, so I hacked into the system,”

Marian said, completely unrepentant. “It was easy. My
friend went to MIT. He taught me all kinds of things.” She
stepped closer. “You still have ten minutes,” she murmured,
lowering her eyelashes. “I bet I can think of some way to
relax you.”

Feeling her hands on his chest, Morgan recoiled. “No,

thank you, Nurse,” he snapped. He turned away from her
and hustled to the door, yanking it open. Striding out of the
room, Morgan took several deep breaths. His skin crawled
just remembering her touch and pushiness, and he willed his
pulse to slow.

Damn. Is she beginning to stalk me? What do I do about that?
Morgan couldn’t think of anything that didn’t involve

going to her superiors, and with her mother constantly
visiting for chemo treatments, he really hated to go that
route. It’d be embarrassing for everyone.

Pushing the matter out of his mind, Morgan hustled to

prep for his next surgery. He was due to perform a
pulmonary bypass on a married with three kids forty-two
year old.

As he strode into surgery, taking in the familiar hustle

and bustle of nurses and technicians, he wondered when
people would wake up and get healthy.

Charlie Richards

“Oh, my god! Look at you!”
Morgan struck a pose, his hands on his hips as he stuck

out his right leg and cocked his opposite hip. “I look pretty
damn good, if I do say so myself.” He pursed his lips—
which were painted bright red—and blew air kisses at
Donna.

Laughing, Donna stepped forward and lightly gripped

his upper arms. She air-kissed his cheeks, then stepped back
and grinned at him. “So, I’m impressed. Marilyn Monroe.”
She swept her gaze over him again. “Damn, Morgan. Your
make-up looks better than mine!”

Stepping back carefully on the silver high heels he wore,

Morgan grinned at his friend. He took in her impressively
done Poison Ivy costume. Hell, she’d even dyed her hair red.
“Wow,” he breathed. “You look amazing! Tim Burton
couldn’t come up with a better rendition,” he said, meaning
every word.

Donna’s hair had been pulled on top of her head. Green

hair bands held the strands in braids and curling ringlets.
She’d interspersed fake, dark green leaves throughout the
ensemble. Her bodice consisted of a teddy of various shades
of green with mesh and sequins placed in strategic places to
keep her decent…sort of.

He knew he got along so well with Donna because she

was as crazy about Halloween as he was…well, and for
various other reasons. Along with this shindig put on by the
firefighters, they had three more lined up, and he knew that
he wasn’t the only one who had a different costume planned
for each party.

“Mitch is downstairs,” Donna said, referring to her date,

who happened to be one of the firefighters working out of
the station hosting the party. “Are you ready?”

Lifting Techniques

Morgan snagged his jacket. He slid his arms into the

sleeves of the purple fabric, but didn’t bother zipping it.
Picking up his purse—a small, sparkly, silver pouch with a
matching brocade strap that went great with his shoes—he
slung it over his shoulder.

Grinning, Morgan nodded. “Let’s go party.”
With a bounce in her step, Donna pivoted and led the

way out his door.

After locking up, Morgan followed. He moved slowly

down the stairs, mindful of his unaccustomed footwear. He
didn’t want to wrench his ankle before the night had even
started.

Morgan strode toward the car. He spotted Mitch leaning

against the passenger side of the sedan, probably because he
planned to open the door for Donna. Seeing the tall, broad-
shouldered man’s costume, he couldn’t contain his grin.
Mitch and Donna had done a pretty fair job of making him
look like Bane…minus the headgear. Knowing his friend,
Morgan figured it was in the backseat or trunk.

“Awe,” Morgan couldn’t help but tease. “You match!”
“Thanks,” Mitch responded, pulling his gaze away from

his cell phone. His brows shot up, and he let out a low wolf
whistle, “Damn, Morgan.” He openly swept his gaze up and
down Morgan’s red-dress clad form. Finally, he shook his
head and opened the door he’d been leaning against. “I’m
impressed. Just walking down the street, I never would have
pegged you for a guy.”

“Thanks!” Morgan replied. He knew it wasn’t just the wig

and dress that did it. He’d shaved his legs and pits and spent
a good hour using foundation and blush to soften his
masculine features. Then, he’d labored over the rest of the
make-up to give himself the bedroom eyes Marilyn Monroe
was known for. He knew it was worth the effort.

Charlie Richards

To his surprise, after Donna had climbed into the

passenger seat, Mitch bowed low and opened the back door
for him. “Lady Monroe.”

Morgan snickered and carefully climbed inside.

“Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later, Mitch pulled into the parking lot

and found a parking space. They watched a scantily clad
pixie walk by, hanging on the arm of a guy in football
pads—complete with helmet—and round the corner out of
sight.

“Well, ladies,” Mitch said, turning off the vehicle. “Let’s

go get our groove on.”

“Heck, yeah,” Donna replied, pushing open her door.

“Naomi and Jenna are inside already,” she told them,
referring to their two college friends.

Morgan nodded absently, more focused on swinging his

legs out without catching his heel on the hem of the dress.
Every time he dressed in drag, his respect for women grew.
Between the amount of time it took for hair—his own
shoulder-blade length locks were carefully braided and
pinned up under his wig—then add in applying make-up
and dealing with the discomfort of high heels…yep, Morgan
appreciated that he was a guy.

“Here,” Mitch stated, offering his hand.
Grateful that his friend’s boyfriend was such a stand-up

guy, Morgan settled his hand in the man’s palm and allowed
him to help him to his feet. When he lifted his gaze, he
realized Mitch was smirking at him. Lifting one brow,
Morgan asked a silent question—what?

“You got more balls than me,” Mitch admitted. “Come

on.” He offered his arm.

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Morgan scoffed as he accepted, sliding his hand into the

crook of Mitch’s left elbow. “Most wouldn’t agree with
that.”

Mitch grunted as he turned his attention to Donna and

held out his right elbow for her.

Donna took Mitch’s offering, and they started walking.

Donna grumbled, “Let’s see those assholes dance for an hour
in our shoes.”

Chuckling, Morgan replied, “You got that right.”
As they reached the door to the hotel, a bellhop opened

the door for them. The man looked both women up and
down—his gaze skipping right over Mitch—and Morgan
tried not to crack a pleased smirk. He knew what he looked
like…Marilyn Monroe.

A minute later, they entered the ballroom.
Morgan swept his gaze over the dozens of costumed

occupants. His cock plumped in his jock strap. With dozens
of men using their costume to accentuate their attributes, it
was going to be a wonderful night of eye candy.

As Mitch guided them toward the beverage table,

Morgan’s gaze fixed on a man already standing before it.
The dark-haired, bearded man laughed at something a
slightly taller blond male said. His deep brown eyes
twinkled.

Sweeping his gaze over the man, Morgan took in the

bearded guy’s obviously store-bought Viking costume. Still,
his shoulders were wide, nicely filling out the faux-fur vest
he wore. Underneath that, nothing, showcasing a thickly
haired, very muscular chest.

Yum!
Morgan slid his gaze lower and enjoyed the view of form-

fitting leather pants encasing muscular legs. These were in
no way the general store variety. The man must have gone
to a leather store, because they accentuated the man’s heavy
thighs and perfect ass so very nicely as the Viking rocked

Charlie Richards

backward on his right heel. He accepted a bottle of beer with
one hand and a glass of white wine with the other.

Just reining in the urge to sashay up to the Viking and run

his painted red nails through the guy’s thick mat of chest
hair, Morgan lowered his chin and watched the stranger
through his lashes. He enjoyed the view as the guy knocked
shoulders with the blond man dressed as a scantily clad
construction worker—complete with tool belt—and moved
away from the table.

That created an opening, and he and his friends stepped

up to the table.

Mitch glanced between them, asking, “Ladies, what can I

get you this evening?”

Unable to help himself, Morgan watched the Viking’s

slow progress away from them as he purred, “A long, tall
drink of him.”

Lifting Techniques

Chapter Three

earing the softy mumbled comment behind him, Ryan
turned just enough to look over his shoulder. He swept

his gaze over the people and found his attention snagged by
a group of three—Poison Ivy, Bane, and Marilyn Monroe.

It was Marilyn in a short, slinky red cocktail dress,

peering at him from beneath her lashes with unmistakable
interest that caught his eye. Ryan allowed himself a quick
once over, enjoying the view.

Silver-glittered, open-toed high heels adorned the

woman’s feet, her red-painted nails poking from the open
toe. Long, slender, lightly-tanned legs disappeared
underneath the slightly flared skirt of the red cocktail-style
dress she wore. The red fabric stretched provocatively across
a lean waist, up a slender torso, and over A-cups.

Since Ryan had never been a tit man, that didn’t bother

him. Instead, the long slender column of the woman’s neck
called to him. He wanted to nip the tendon, lick the soft-
looking flesh, and suck up a mark.

Ryan’s cock thickened in his leather pants. The fabric

didn’t stretch nearly as well as jeans, causing a discomfort
that tempted him to adjust himself. Tamping down that
need, Ryan focused on the woman’s oval, carefully made-up
face, light blue eyes, and bright red lips.

Ryan’s gaze fixated on the woman’s bow-shaped, red

lips—lips that matched the sexy red dress—for several
seconds. Then, jerking his focus north, he met Marilyn’s

Charlie Richards

gaze. Surprise flared in the woman’s blue eyes, followed by
heat, then she looked away. A pretty flush colored her
cheeks, deepening the blush.

“Oh, damn,” Ryan mumbled. Turning, he saw Carl still

walking away. He smacked the back of his buddy’s arm,
causing the other detective to turn. Once he’d gotten his
partner’s attention, Ryan muttered, “Who the fuck is that?”

Carl turned, glancing over his face, then peered in the

direction Ryan looked. “Uh, who are you looking at?” he
asked, clearly confused.

“Marilyn Monroe,” Ryan growled appreciatively,

watching the woman turn toward the male and accept a
glass of white wine. The way her skirt swirled, showing off
her creamy, toned thighs, caused Ryan’s balls to tingle. “Do
you know her?”

After seeing the trio, Ryan had figured out pretty damn

fast that Marilyn wasn’t with the man. Hell, any Batman fan
would realize that the guy, dressed convincingly as Bane,
was the date of the redhead dressed as a very sexy and
authentic Poison Ivy. Hot, sure, but obviously taken. Ryan
had learned years ago to differentiate and dismiss attached
women.

Miss Monroe was definitely not with Bane.
“Who?”
Ryan managed to yank his gaze away from the sexy

woman and looked at his partner on the force. He just
managed to keep from snorting. Of course, his buddy
wouldn’t understand his fascination with a woman in a red
dress…Marilyn Monroe or otherwise.

“The woman in red,” Ryan stated softly. “Any idea who

she is?”

Carl stared blatantly at the woman dressed as Marilyn.

After a few seconds, he cocked his head and squinted. “Well,

Lifting Techniques

fuck me blind,” he mumbled. “If I didn’t know any better,
I’d say that was Doctor Morgan Pruitt.”

A doctor. Damn. Way out of my league.
Giving the sexy doctor a wink, Ryan turned away. No

sense in getting involved with someone as work oriented as
he was…or maybe that would work better? Ryan gave
himself a mental slap upside the head. A successful woman
like that probably had men lining up to date her. Hell, she
was probably married.

Still, that didn’t mean Ryan couldn’t enjoy the view. He

glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was being led in
the opposite direction by her friends. “She’s fucking hot,”
Ryan murmured, returning his focus to his friend.

Carl’s brow lifted, as did a corner of his mouth. “She’s

not—”

“Hey! There you are!” Wendy settled her hand on Ryan’s

arm, drawing his attention. “Is that drink for me?”

“Yes, here.” Ryan nodded absently, handing her the glass

of white wine in his hand.

Wendy wrinkled her nose, which might have been cute if

it hadn’t been covered in black…something…eyeliner,
maybe? Hell if Ryan knew much about make-up. In his
opinion, the thick dark lines around her eyes, ending at the
corners with a bit extra that curved up, made her appear like
an Egyptian instead of the sexy cat she was going for. Ryan
sure didn’t want to kiss her with that shit all over her face.

Still, Wendy had said it was necessary. The black lines on

her cheeks were obviously her whiskers, which went along
with the black cat ears she wore on her head. Wendy had
encased her body in a low-cut black leotard that showed
every curve of her body, along with her ample breasts.
Coupled with the black leggings, black thigh-high boots, and
black velvet tail attached to her ass, Ryan supposed he
should have found her sexy.

Charlie Richards

“This is white wine. I asked for champagne,” Wendy

stated, sniffing lightly.

Why had he invited her again? Right, he’d been working

his ass off on not only Luke’s murder, but on the one before
that. Just the evening before, their technical analyst had
discovered a link between their two victims…other than
them both being gay. Both men spent a fair amount of free
time online playing social media games.

With all the time spent working, Ryan hadn’t had time to

scrounge up a date. He didn’t want to go alone—hell, Carl
would give him no end of shit if he did—so Ryan had
broken his rule of never reopening communication to a
woman with whom he’d cut ties. Remembering Wendy’s
love of Halloween, Ryan had called her up and invited her.

Now, too late, Ryan remembered why he’d cut ties with

her. She whined incessantly. “They’re out of champagne,”
Ryan stated. “The bartender said that’s a smooth, slightly
sweet wine. Give it a try.”

Wendy sighed, sounding completely put out. Still, she

brought the glass to her lips and tipped her head back. She
took several healthy swallows, gulping down almost half the
glass. Afterward, she stated, “I guess it’s okay. Where’s the
buffet? I saw someone with a bunch of shrimp and I want
some.”

Fighting back a grimace, Ryan pointed toward the buffet

table. “Along the far wall,” he stated.

Wendy took two steps, then she must have realized that

Ryan wasn’t following. She paused and turned back to him.
“Aren’t you coming?”

“No, sorry,” Ryan stated. He held up his phone and lied,

“Just got a text from the chief. I’m going to find a quiet place
to call him back.”

Rolling her eyes, Wendy grumbled, “Right. That means

you’re leaving, doesn’t it?”

Lifting Techniques

“I don’t think so,” Ryan answered, this time honestly. “I

just need to return a call.”

“Whatever,” she snapped. “I’ll be on the dance floor if

you’re still here in thirty.”

With that, she pivoted and stalked away, disappearing

into the crowd.

Carl frowned. “Hey, I didn’t get a text. What’d your’s

say? Did something happen?”

Ryan turned to his partner, knowing what his buddy

actually asked. Has there been another murder? Shaking his
head, he admitted, “No, I just couldn’t stand hanging with
Wendy any longer.”

“You invited her,” Vincent Androse, Carl’s life partner

and one of the firefighters from the house that put on this
shindig pointed out. “I thought you were dating.”

Sighing, Ryan grimaced. “I don’t date people, Vince,” he

stated. “I fuck.” At the firefighter’s amused expression, Ryan
added, “And after her attitude, she’s not worth another
fuck.”

“Then why—” Vincent started.
“Just let it go, babe,” Carl urged, patting his lover’s

shoulder.

Vincent looked confused for all of two seconds, then he

grinned widely at Ryan. He slapped Ryan on the shoulder
and shook his head. “You need to find someone you can talk
to. Ya know? Can’t be fucking all the time.”

“Who says?” Ryan replied, scoffing. He winked at

Vincent, then downed the last of his beer and handed the
bottle to Carl. “Well, I better make myself scarce for a bit. I’ll
be back in twenty or so.”

Carl frowned. “Where are you going?”
“Gonna hit the head, then scout the parking lot for illegal

activity,” Ryan called back, already heading toward the
ballroom’s exit.

Charlie Richards

Laughing, Carl called, “Have fun!”
Ryan waved, but didn’t bother to look back. Wandering

the parking lots and garages of the places he attended
parties was a favorite pastime of his. When he became bored
or needed to get away from the crowds and pounding
music, he’d wander outside and scope out the area. Ryan
couldn’t count the number of times he’d called in drug
dealers, buyers, and users. He seemed to have a sixth sense
for spotting trouble. He also knew Carl would have his
phone on vibrate and would be quick to respond if he
needed help.

After taking a piss and washing his hands, Ryan

grumbled under his breath about the fact that the place had
blow-dryers instead of paper towels. Didn’t the hotel know
that those infernal contraptions could blow germs up to six
feet away? Shaking his head, he wiped his hands on his
ridiculous faux fur vest, then used his shoulder to shove the
door open and head out of the room.

Slipping out the side door, Ryan strode toward the

elevator. He pushed the down button and when the car
arrived, hit the parking level. A few seconds later, the door
reopened and Ryan strolled slowly out of it.

Ryan paused after a few steps, shoving his thumbs into

his pockets. He stood there listening for a minute, allowing
the ringing of the ballroom’s music to clear from his ears.
After another minute, Ryan felt his senses become
accustomed to the sounds of the garage…the rumble of
vehicles in other alleys searching for a parking spot, the click
of shoes on concrete, and the hum of people chattering as
they hurried to their destination.

Finally, the mutter of low voices caught Ryan’s attention.

Grateful for the hiking boots on his feet—covered by a
ridiculous plastic boot-cover to make them look
more…Vikingish—Ryan slowly strode toward the noise. He

Lifting Techniques

heard the voices grow louder, the murmurs turning to
rumbles, then to actual words.

His eyes narrowing, Ryan listened as some guy cajoled

another person, saying that they’d take real good care of
him. Another voice urged someone—the one that would be
taken care of probably—to stop playing hard to get. A third
male urged that this was the reason they were out there…for
them all to have some fun.

Ryan peered around the corner and he scowled as he took

in the scene. Three men in costume—a construction worker,
a fireman, and a farmer—were circled around someone. Just
as Ryan cocked his head and squinted, the farmer shifted
position, giving him a decent view of whoever they had
cornered.

Marilyn Monroe!
The woman’s blond hair, red dress, and sexy as hell legs

were unmistakable. She had her arms lifted, palms out,
clearly defensive. Worry caused her blue eyes to appear
large in her pale face…even despite the make-up.

How the hell?
Ryan couldn’t even fathom how the beauty had gotten

herself into this situation. What the fuck was she doing with
any of those guys, let alone all of them? Still, Ryan could see
loud and clear that the woman wasn’t pleased with her
situation.

After the briefest of debates—to text Carl or not—Ryan

decided he could take the three men on his own. Especially,
since they had no way of knowing that he was a cop with a
few tricks up his sleeve…and a pistol strapped to his ankle.

Rounding the corner, Ryan picked up his stride as he

shouted, “Hey! There you are, baby. I’ve been looking all
over for you.” He grinned widely as he approached,
mentally cataloguing the other’s expressions—Marilyn was
confused but hopeful, the men were irritated, confused, and
angry. Ryan waved. “Hey, guys. Thanks so much for

Charlie Richards

keeping an eye on my girl. Can’t be too careful. Even in a
nice place like this.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the construction worker asked,

his lip curling in a sneer.

Ryan widened his grin even further. “Marilyn’s date, of

course. I’m sorry I missed our planned meet-up at the bar.
Bane and Poison Ivy told me you came down here to try and
get a signal.” While that excuse was utter bullshit, he hoped
the mention of the characters Marilyn’s friends were dressed
up as created some trust between them. He needed these
three stooges to stay together, so he could deal with them.
Marilyn running would complicate that.

“Th-Thank goodness you’ve arrived,” Marilyn murmured

in a voice a bit deeper than Ryan had expected. “I, uh, got
turned around down here.”

Still, the sound of Marilyn’s soft words caused Ryan’s

balls to ache. Damn, she has a sexy voice. Getting control of
himself, Ryan held out his hand, palm up, and urged,
“Come on, darling. Let’s get back to the party.”

Marilyn glanced around at the three other men, then took

a step toward him.

As Ryan expected, one of the men—no surprise that it

was the construction worker—decided he didn’t like his
prospective fuck walking away. He reached out and grabbed
Marilyn’s upper arm. “I don’t think so,” the man snarled.
Glaring, he pegged a nasty glare Ryan’s way. “Three against
one, pathetic Viking,” he sneered, his gaze raking over what
Ryan already knew was a cheap store-bought costume.
“You’re not going anywhere.”

That was when the other two, the farmer and the fireman,

seemed to pull themselves out of their stupors. “You’re not
her date,” the first snapped.

The second, at about the same time, growled, “Get lost,

poser.”

Lifting Techniques

Ryan allowed his smile to die a quick death. “Get your

hands off my woman or face the consequences,” he growled.

The fireman scoffed. He crossed his arms over his chest

and smirked. “Fuck off.”

“Hmm, all the time,” Ryan growled. “But not with you.”
The other men’s eyes widened and, after a chin jerk and

snarl from the construction worker—obviously the
ringleader—the other two started toward him. The
construction worker kept his hand on Marilyn’s arm.
Ignoring Marilyn and her holder for the moment, Ryan
focused on the two costumed men coming toward him.

He grinned.
Bring it on.

Charlie Richards

Chapter Four

organ gaped at the bearded Viking for all of two
seconds, then he tried to yank away from Dolan.

Pierre, the farmer, had come on to him, convinced him to
spend a little alone time together. As horny as Morgan had
been from just watching the Viking’s tight ass as he’d
walked away, a hand job had sounded damn fantastic.

Unfortunately, Morgan hadn’t anticipated that alone time

wouldn’t be so alone…and when he’d spotted Dolan, he
knew he was in for trouble.

As soon as they’d walked out of the elevator, Pierre had

led Morgan around the corner and down a side aisle.
Morgan had been happy to head toward the shadowed
nook, looking forward to relieving the ache in his balls. If he
had planned to imagine the Viking’s face while getting off,
well, that was on him.

Then, Morgan had spotted the other figures in the dark,

Dolan—the construction worker—and the fireman, who he
didn’t know. He’d tried to stop, but Pierre had gripped his
upper arm and led him forward. Morgan hated being led
like that, but the man’s grip had been too strong.

Now, here was the Viking, acting as his personal hero.

Morgan didn’t know who he was or why he was there, but
he hoped to capitalize on it. That was, if Dolan would release
his arm.

“Let go,” Morgan insisted, jerking his arm.

Lifting Techniques

Dolan sneered. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere til you suck my

dick. I’ve been thinkin’ about shovin’ my cock down your
throat ever since you offered, himbo.”

His face heating in a flush, Morgan peered at the Viking

through his lashes, wondering if the slur would register with
the man.

Instead of sending him running, though, it seemed to

inflame the Viking’s rage. His dark brows drew together and
his thin lips twisted into a scowl. “That is no way to talk to a
lady,” he snarled.

The Viking hadn’t even finished speaking when he struck

out, slamming a right hook into the farmer’s face. As the
man fell, the Viking crouched low and swept his leg out,
knocking the fireman’s feet out from under him.

Dolan responded by pulling a knife and pressing it to

Morgan’s throat. “Get lost, hombre,” he snarled.

Morgan’s heart pounded in his chest at the feel of the cold

steel pressed against his throat. Fear slithered though his
veins. He’d tried to save plenty of patients with knife
wounds, self-inflicted and otherwise. With how close Dolan
held the blade to his carotid artery, he didn’t have much
hope of surviving too deep a slice.

Still crouching, the Viking reached under the cuff of his

right pant leg. He pulled a small revolver from a hidden
holster. Straightening, the Viking pointed the weapon at
Dolan. “I’ll give you three seconds to release Marilyn and for
you and your friends to clear out. Otherwise, I start
shooting.”

“You gonna shoot us right here in the middle of a parking

garage, Viking?” Pierre asked incredulously, rising to his
feet.

“Yep,” the Viking replied, sounding deadly calm. When

he twisted his torso a bit, the faux fur vest shifted, revealing
a badge attached to his belt. “I’m an imaginative guy,” he

Charlie Richards

drawled. “I’m pretty sure I can come up with a good story
about ya’ll attacking us when we were walking to my car.”

The men glanced between each other. They evidently

came to a quick decision.

Dolan lowered the knife from Morgan’s neck and released

him. At the same time, he shoved Morgan’s back. Morgan
stumbled forward, struggling to catch his balance on the
high heels. Vacantly, he registered that Pierre and the
firefighter—whose name he’d never heard—rushed past
him. Dolan took an extra second to slam his elbow into
Morgan’s side as he passed.

Morgan would have gone down had the Viking not

stepped forward and caught him. The stranger wrapped his
left arm around his waist and pulled him close to his body.
Instinctively, Morgan settled his hands on the man’s chest.
This time, he shivered at the feel of the firm, hard body
beneath his fingertips.

Then, Morgan felt the hard pressure of the gun at the

small of his back. He stiffened. Was this guy really a cop?
Had he just jumped from the frying pan into the fire?

“Easy, darling,” the Viking crooned. “You’re safe now.

Nothing will happen to you.”

Morgan became aware of how the man’s other hand

gently rubbed up and down his spine between his shoulder
blades. Realizing the man was trying to soothe him, he
sucked in a slow breath, attempting to calm his racing pulse.
The spicy scent of the other man’s cologne mingled with
what must have been his natural earthy scent.

Humming, Morgan couldn’t resist taking another deep

whiff. Very nice!

His hero chuckled softly, then asked, “You doing okay,

then, Miss Monroe?”

Remembering who he was dressed up as and the Viking’s

assumption, Morgan grew bold. He lifted his head away

Lifting Techniques

from his chest and peered up at the man from beneath his
mascara thickened lashes. “I am,” he murmured throatily.
“Thanks to you, Hero.”

“Hero?” the Viking replied, his lips curving into a grin.
“Uh huh.”
“Doesn’t the hero normally get a kiss after rescuing the

damsel in distress?”

Smiling coyly at his hero’s playful tone, Morgan

murmured, “I think that can be arranged.”

The Viking ordered, “Hold on,” his right hand moving

away from his back. Morgan heard a soft click—maybe the
hammer uncocking or the safety being put on—then his hero
reached behind himself. When his hand came back, it was
empty, and he used it to gently cup Morgan’s jaw. “Now,
then,” he crooned. “Where were we?”

Morgan slid his palms up his hero’s chest and rested his

hands on his shoulders. He stroked his thumbs up and
down the tendon of the other man’s neck, enjoying the
scrape of five o’clock shadow at the edge of the closely shorn
beard. He wondered what that would feel like rubbing along
his erection, but knew he’d never get the chance. This guy
thought he was a woman.

Taking advantage of the moment, Morgan tilted his head

and offered his lips. The Viking didn’t hesitate. He lowered
his lips and settled them over Morgan’s. His tongue slipped
out and swiped along his bottom lip. Morgan eagerly
opened, accepting the appendage. He met it with his own,
teasing and tasting, enjoying the flavor of the man mixed
with traces of the beer he must have had earlier.

His hero grunted softly in the back of his throat. He slid

his hold around so he could grip Morgan’s nape as he tilted
his head and deepened the kiss. Morgan clung to him as he
met him with vigor, making their tongues clash and writhe
against each other in a sensual dance.

Charlie Richards

Morgan’s erection throbbed. He desperately wanted to fit

his groin against the other man’s thigh and rut, but he had
enough presence of mind to realize that would bring their
interlude to an end damn fast. That didn’t stop him from
arching his back just right so he could feel the other man’s
hard erection press into his lower belly.

Fuck! He’s hung!
Ass clenching at that realization, Morgan wished he could

feel it stretching his chute. He’d clamp onto that monster
and milk it better than anyone the man had ever been with.
Well, if he couldn’t get the man’s dick in his ass, maybe he
could do the next best thing.

Knowing most men wouldn’t turn down head, no matter

how odd the situation, Morgan lowered his right hand from
the man’s neck. He prayed his hero was no exception as he
scraped his red-colored fingernails down the thick mat of
hair covering his chest until his fingers rubbed over the skin
at his waistband.

His hero growled low in his throat. His skin rippled

under Morgan’s fingertips as his abs clenched. Ending the
kiss, he lifted his head. The man’s dark eyes were heavily
dilated, glittering in the dim light. His nostrils flared as the
hand at Morgan’s neck tightened and relaxed.

Smiling, Morgan took his lust-filled gaze and silence as

permission. He unbuttoned the leather pants of his soon-to-
be lover, discovering a button fly. With skillful flicks of his
fingers, he finished opening the flaps.

Morgan watched the other man’s jaw tense, but he just

continued to stare. Glancing down, he nearly swallowed his
tongue at the size of the erection filling out the man’s black
briefs. Morgan lowered his hand and cupped him. The thick
piece of meat twitched in his grip and the Viking made that
fucking sexy growl again.

“This looks like it hurts,” Morgan whispered. Smiling in

what he hoped was a seductively shy way, he added, “I

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think I know a way to make you more comfortable.” As
Morgan spoke, he lowered to his knees.

“This is a little more payment than I think I deserve,” his

hero rumbled, his voice having deepened with lust. Still, the
man released his grip on Morgan’s neck, making it easier for
him to kneel. He moved his hand to Morgan’s shoulder as he
glanced around, surveying the area. “You don’t have to do
this.”

“I want to,” Morgan replied honestly.
Morgan gripped the waistband of the man’s underwear

and eased the band away from his body and down a bit,
revealing the flushed red head of his hero’s dick. Leaning
forward, Morgan stuck out his tongue and swiped over the
weeping slit. He peered up at the man as he scooped up a
bead of pre-cum and hummed at the taste.

His hero groaned. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, his dark

eyes shuttering to half-mast.

“Just relax, Hero,” Morgan urged.
Then, Morgan opened his mouth and sucked the head of

the man’s dick into his mouth. He knew most would think it
slutty of him to blow a guy in a parking garage, and they
were probably right. Hell, the guy was a cop whose name he
didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t pass up the chance to taste his
hero’s monster meat.

Sucking lightly on the head, Morgan used his tongue to

lave the wrinkled flesh beneath the man’s circumcised cap.
At the same time, he pulled the cop’s underwear down
further, exposing the rest of his erection. Morgan couldn’t
help but moan upon seeing the man’s thick, ten-inch prick.

So not proportionate to his height! God, what a diamond!
Morgan tilted his head, opened his throat, and swallowed

the man’s cock down to the root. Satisfaction flooded him
when he heard the strangled-sounding moan come from
above him, as if his lover was struggling to hold in his
groans.

Charlie Richards

Wanting to hear more of those sexy noises, Morgan

sucked hard as he drew halfway off his lover’s prick, then
sank back down again. This time, he lodged the man’s cap in
his throat and swallowed around it.

His hero shuddered under his ministrations. His blunt

fingertips threaded through his hair, knocking his wig and
tugging at the bobby pins that had been holding it in place.
Unable to help himself, Morgan pulled off the Viking’s dick.
He gasped in pain and peered apologetically up at the man,
ignoring the string of spit connecting his lower lip to the
Viking’s prick.

“A wig,” Morgan admitted, smiling tentatively. “Not all

of us can have Monroe’s hair.”

Peering down at him, the man’s eyes narrowed. He eased

the wig the rest of the way off of him. He held up the wig for
a second, amusement mixing with the lust still lingering in
his dark eyes. After a second, he dismissed it and tucked the
wig into his belt. Then, he returned his focus to Morgan.

The man used his now empty hand to trace the blond

braids that wrapped around Morgan’s head. Morgan
suddenly felt very grateful he’d taken the time to create the
intricate weave that curled his hair around the crown of his
head.

“Lovely,” the Viking whispered. Then, he lowered his

gaze and his hand to Morgan’s mouth. He gently stroked
around his lips. “But these red lips are stunning, especially
wrapped around my dick. Never had a woman deep throat
me, baby. Do it again?”

No way would Morgan deny that request.
Morgan opened his mouth again and sank down on his

hero’s prick. For a moment, he repeatedly bobbed up and
down, sucking strongly. Then, he again swallowed the
man’s dick to the root. He worked his throat muscles, using
them to massage the sensitive cap.

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The Viking’s hold remained gentle even as he moaned

and his fingers tightened and loosened almost spastically.

Reveling in the knowledge that he was pleasing his lover,

Morgan threaded the fingertips of his right hand through
the thick hair surrounding the man’s cock. He massaged the
delicate skin underneath, adding more stimulation to the
blowjob. With his other hand, he reached into the man’s
briefs and found his balls, cupping them gently.

The sound of the big man growling reached Morgan’s

ears as he felt the Viking’s balls draw up tight to his body.
His lover’s grip tightened and he pushed gently with his
hands, an obvious warning that he was close.

Morgan ignored the man’s urgings. Instead, he hummed.
“Aarrgh,” the Viking snarled, the low sound seeming to

roll up through his chest. “Can’t hold it.”

Using his middle finger, Morgan tickled the sensitive

patch directly behind his lover’s balls.

“Fuck!”
The Viking’s balls drew flush to his body. His cock pulsed

in Morgan’s mouth. Hot seed gushed from the dick he was
sucking, coating his throat. He backed off just a bit, allowing
him to catch the next burst of cum on his tongue. He rolled
the thick, salty fluid over his taste buds, enjoying the heady
taste of the man.

After his lover finished spurting, Morgan eased off the

man’s softening prick. He resisted the urge to lick the man
clean, since he figured that wasn’t something a woman
would do. Instead, Morgan pulled off, then used his
forefinger to wipe the corners of his mouth as he peered
through his lashes at the man. Without needing to look,
Morgan carefully tucked the Viking’s cock back into his
underwear.

“Holy fuck, baby,” the Viking mumbled. His chest still

heaved and he stared down at Morgan with astonishment in

Charlie Richards

his eyes. He licked his lips, then swallowed, his Adam’s
apple bobbing. “That was—”

The Viking cut himself off as he moved his grip to

Morgan’s shoulders and urged him to his feet. He slid his
left hand up his arm, then around and down his shoulder
blade. Continuing gently along his spine, he lowered his
hand until he gripped Morgan’s slender waist in his big
palm. Rubbing his thumb over Morgan’s hipbone, the
Viking’s fingers sent delicious tingles to Morgan’s groin.
With his right hand, the Viking cupped Morgan’s jaw and
tilted his head back.

Lowering his head, Morgan’s hero settled his mouth over

his own again. He licked at Morgan’s lips, then nipped his
bottom one. Except, when Morgan opened his mouth in
anticipation of him deepening the kiss, he lifted his head and
put a breath of space between them.

“I have no idea how you did that,” the man murmured,

staring into Morgan’s eyes. “But I’m not a selfish lover. I’d
like to return the favor.” As he spoke, the man’s thumb
continued to rub along his sensitive hip bone.

Morgan shivered at the gentle touch and enjoyed the

sated passion in the man’s eyes. He felt his prick ooze in his
jockstrap, and the lack of blood made him light-heated.
When goose bumps broke out over Morgan’s groin, he
realized the thumb of the man’s hand rubbed closer and
closer to his prick.

It took every amount of self-control he had to ease away,

doing his best to offer a demure smile. “It’s okay,” he
whispered. “That was just for you…for helping me.” His
balls took that second to ache uncomfortably, as if
reminding him of his own need. “I-I need to go.”

Unfortunately, as Morgan twisted, his hero released his

hip and moved his hand…maybe swinging it up to grab at
his arm. Either way, the back of his hand skimmed across

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the thin fabric of the front of his dress…and along his
throbbing prick. Morgan let out a gasp, his hips bucking
instinctively, searching for more.

Morgan froze, getting himself under control. Realizing the

Viking had also stilled, he slowly lifted his gaze to the man’s
face. Fear coursed through him. What would he see on the
man’s face?

His hero’s jaw gaped for a few seconds. Then, ever so

slowly, his hand moved. When he cupped Morgan’s prick,
his randy dick twitched in the man’s grip. Just as quickly,
the Viking pulled his hands away—both of them. His chest
heaved as he took a step backward.

“My god,” the man whispered. “You’re a man.”
Morgan wrapped his arms around his torso and

swallowed hard. He jerked a nod, uncertain what, if
anything, he could say to smooth over the situation.

His brows drawn, his lover frowned at him. “My fucking

god.” He lowered his hands and buttoned up his pants as he
absently muttered, “Best fucking blowjob of my life, and it
came from a man.”

Before Morgan could come up with a response, the other

man turned and strode away. As Morgan watched him go,
admiring how the firm globes of his tight ass filled out his
leather pants oh-so-nicely, one inane thought pushed into
Morgan’s frozen mind.

He took my wig.

Charlie Richards

Chapter Five

yan stared at his coffee mug, not really seeing it.
For the last three days, Ryan had found himself

obsessing about Marilyn Monroe—or rather, Doctor Morgan
Pruitt. When Carl had said the name, it hadn’t even occurred
to him that the woman in the red dress could actually be a
man. Why would it? It wasn’t like he was in the habit of
looking for an Adam’s apple or a bulge in a conspicuous
place.

Hell, even thinking back now, Ryan didn’t remember

seeing anything like that. If he hadn’t felt the unmistakable
ridge of an erection, he still wouldn’t believe it. His palm
tingled at the memory and he clenched his fist a few times,
trying to make the odd sensation go away.

Ryan had never felt another man’s arousal before.

Shouldn’t he have been more weirded out by it? Instead, he
found he had an odd urge to feel it again, to see it, discover
if it was as slender as it’d felt. If he did that, would Morgan
suck him again? Hot damn, the man’s mouth was beyond
anything he’d felt before.

And the guy deep throated me! Holy fucking shit!
“Hey, that coffee cup do something wrong?”
Sucking in a breath, Ryan gathered his wayward

thoughts. Fuck! Why did he think about the fucking doctor
every time his thoughts strayed? Forcing his expression to
clear, and hating the realization that his dick had plumped

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to half-mast just thinking about Morgan’s mouth, he
frowned at his partner.

“Yeah,” Ryan growled. “It’s fucking empty.” He pushed

to his feet and grabbed the offending mug. “I want some
coffee.”

Not surprisingly, Carl followed. His partner carried his

own mug.

Once they were in the break room, Ryan swept his gaze

around the space, confirming that it was empty. Then he
allowed the door to swing closed behind him. Hell, he knew
his partner was going to question him. They’d been
partnered for almost eight years now and they knew how to
read each other.

Pros and cons of spending so much time with someone.
Carl crossed to the counter and picked up the carafe. He

held it up, offering to fill Ryan’s mug. Ryan followed and
held out his large, twenty ounce cup. Smirking, Carl filled it
three quarters of the way, then began filling his own mug.

Grunting, Ryan crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out

the milk. After pouring several ounces into his coffee, filling
his mug the rest of the way, Ryan returned the carton to the
shelf and pushed the fridge’s door closed with his hip. When
he turned around, he saw Carl leaning against the counter
staring at him, his eyes narrowed.

“What?” Ryan growled.
“Lack of caffeine makes you surly, but this is extreme,

even for you,” Carl commented. Without taking his gaze off
of Ryan, he lifted his mug and took a sip, slurping. “You
ditched Saturday night. What the fuck happened? Even
when you find a girl you normally say goodbye. Did she end
up that good?”

Glaring at his smirking friend, Ryan curled his lip. If only

he could tell his friend the truth...awe, hell. Who else could
he tell? The man was his best friend. His family was Ryan’s
own. The only people he trusted.

Charlie Richards

Carl must have read something in his expression, for his

eyes widened. “Damn it, Ry,” he whispered. “What’s
wrong? I’ve only ever seen that look in your eyes once and I
don’t like it.” He crossed the two steps between them and
gripped his upper arm. “Talk to me. What happened? You
get one of your women pregnant?”

Ryan snorted. “If only it were that simple,” he mumbled.

“Look, I’m still working with Jake tonight, right? How about
burgers after?”

His eyes narrowed, Carl remained silent for several

seconds. Ryan tried not to shift his weight uncomfortably
under his partner’s intense gaze. He wasn’t certain if it was
Vincent’s doing or the fact that his daughter was about to
become a teenager—over the last year, it’d become harder
and harder to hide anything from the man.

“Yeah, sure,” Carl finally conceded. “Where did you want

to meet for the driving lesson?” he asked.

Grateful for the reprieve, because Ryan knew he was

going to need it to figure his shit out, he said, “How about
you meet me in the parking lot of that closed down
department store on Remer Street? That’s not too far out of
the way.” He’d already talked with Kristine in traffic, and
she’d agreed to let him borrow a couple dozen small traffic
cones to make up a course.

“Not just gonna take him on the road?” Carl asked, lifting

a brow in curiosity.

“Nope,” Ryan replied. “Not right away.” He took a sip of

his coffee, smirking around the rim.

Carl chuckled. “Should I be worried?”
“Naw,” Ryan assured.
Before Ryan had to reveal more, the break room door

opened and Preston appeared in the opening. “Hey, there
you guys are. Cap’s looking for you.”

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Pushing away from the counter, Ryan downed the last of

his coffee. “What’s up?” he asked, crossing to the sink. He’d
managed to rinse out his cup before Preston replied, so he
turned back around and lifted a brow in question at the
younger detective.

“We got another one,” Preston told them, suddenly

looking a little pale.

Ryan exchanged a look with Carl and knew exactly what

his partner was thinking. “That’s three in three weeks,” he
murmured. “We have a serial killer.”

“Damn it,” Carl muttered, nodding. “Let’s go.”

Stepping out of the small house, Ryan sucked in a deep

breath.

“Holy shit,” Carl mumbled, stopping next to him on the

porch.

“Yep,” Ryan agreed.
When they’d walked through Luke’s crime scene the

week before, he’d thought that had been bad. This was so
much worse. He’d been a cop for twelve years and had
never seen anything like it. Someone had actually cut the
poor fellow’s dick off and tossed it in the garbage bin by the
bed. According to the coroner, due to the amount of blood, it
had been done when the victim was still alive.

Ryan wanted to cup himself, just to be sure his own

appendage was still intact. Hell, he even felt the odd urge to
cross himself, and Ryan wasn’t religious. Just as the second
crime scene had been, the home had been completely
trashed…all except the drawer with the toys.

“So, the man doing this is obviously targeting gay men,”

Ryan muttered. After a quick glance around to confirm that
no one stood near them, he asked, “What’s this guy got
against someone being gay? I mean, it’s not anyone’s
business who other people fuck or love or whatever.”

Charlie Richards

Carl snorted. “If someone knew that, they could spread

world peace.” He shook his head and growled, “This guy is
just a bigoted psychopath that needs his balls and his hands
cut off.”

Ryan’s brows shot up. He’d known this case was hitting a

little close to home for his partner, but he’d never heard him
sound that vindictive before. He leaned close and patted him
on the shoulder. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly.
Figuring his partner needed a subject change, Ryan

decided to indulge his own little curiosity. “You were
married for years. Is ass fucking a guy really that different?”

Gaping, Carl stared at him wide-eyed for several seconds.

He snapped his jaw shut, then glanced around. “Son of a
bitch, Ryan,” he hissed. “What the fuck?”

Ryan grinned widely, unrepentant. “Awe, come on. Since

when have you been shy?”

Carl scowled at him, then softly snarled, “It’s like ass-

fucking a woman, except your lover has a dick instead of tits
and it’s easier to tell if they’re enjoying it.”

That information grabbed his attention. While Ryan had

never had any complaints from his lovers, he’d heard
women were notorious for faking it. He wasn’t stupid or
shallow enough to think he’d pleased all of his bed partners.
He assumed at least a quarter of his lovers had faked an
orgasm with him. Still, if they weren’t going to be honest
about their pleasure, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do
about it.

“What do you mean? How do you know they’re enjoying

it?” Ryan asked.

Scoffing, Carl’s left brow went up. “What happens to you

if you’re not enjoying it?”

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Ryan grimaced. “Yeah, that was a stupid question,” he

muttered. Still, the idea of someone shoving their—he
swallowed hard. “And men like that?”

Not meeting his gaze, Carl stared out over the small yard

and muttered, “Everyone has certain likes and dislikes. We
do things that please us and please our lover.” He turned
and frowned at Ryan. “Why the sudden curiosity?”

Since there was no way in hell he’d admit the real

reason—that he’d become obsessed with a certain very
beautiful man—Ryan grinned widely and stated, “Figured it
was a good way to give our brain a quick breather.” Without
missing a beat, he continued, “Okay. We know our victims
are gay, single, and active on the internet.” After tipping his
head toward the stairs and getting a nod from his partner,
Ryan started across the porch and down the stairs. “Let’s get
some coffee.”

Carl fell into step beside him, an amused expression on

his face. “Uh, okay. Where?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ryan replied. “You’re driving.

Ryan chewed on a piece of turkey jerky and leaned up

against his car. He forced himself to flip through the facts of
their case instead of what he planned to discuss with Carl
and Vincent in a couple of hours.

They were after someone who wore a size eight shoe, so a

small man. Ryan had offered the idea that the guy was a
twink who’d been abused, maybe by a religious parent or
bullies in high school. While Carl had remained quiet, he
knew his partner had been considering the idea.

Carl had nodded slowly, then scowled as he murmured,

“What about a woman? Hell hath no fury and all that?”

“With the shoe size, definitely an option,” Ryan had

replied. “I’ve just never seen a woman murder like this.

Charlie Richards

They’re normally neater, using poison or a shot to the head.
I’ve never seen one this…well, messy.”

Nodding again, Carl stated, “I’ve seen some damn messy

homes of single women. I just don’t want to dismiss it.”

“Definitely not,” Ryan had agreed.
They’d discovered that all three of their victims had

shopped at different places, ate at different restaurants, and
their circle of friends hung out in different parts of town.
They did, however, find one common thread. They were all
huge into social media and they all played the same online
video game. Currently, their computer guru was searching
through their victim’s computers in the hopes of finding
screen names in common. Right now, it was a waiting game.

For the rest of the week, they planned to track down

family, friends, and acquaintances of their victims. Hell, they
would even talk to mailmen, mechanics, and coworkers.

Ryan looked up when he heard the rumble of Vincent’s

jeep. Spotting Vincent behind the wheel and Jake in the
passenger seat, he lifted a brow. When they parked, Jake
leaped from the vehicle and jogged toward him.

“You’re gonna let me drive your Stingray?” he cried,

excitement filling his tone.

Grinning, Ryan nodded. “Yep. Catch.” He tossed the

young man his keys. “Don’t scratch her.” He winked to
soften the caution.

“I won’t,” Jake vowed as he opened the door, sliding his

hand over the panel almost lovingly.

Ryan smiled at the move as it reminded him of what he

himself had done numerous times. As he started around the
vehicle to get into the passenger side, he heard Vincent
laugh. Pausing, he cocked a brow at the man.

“Really? You’re going to let him drive your baby when

Carl hasn’t even gotten the chance?”

Grinning broadly, Ryan shrugged. “Guess so.”

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Sighing, his stomach comfortably full, Ryan eased back

onto the easy chair and propped his beer on his knee. “Good
job on the burgers, Carl,” he called, knowing the other man
would be able to hear him in the kitchen. He would have
offered to help clean, but no way did he want to be in the
way of Vincent and Carl while they moved around each
other in the domestic cleaning dance. Hell, they would have
said no anyway.

“Thanks,” Carl called back. “Sorry I couldn’t make it

earlier.”

The man had already apologized once, but he’d made up

for it by having the food ready as soon as everyone stepped
in the door. “No problem,” Ryan called back. Carl had
explained that he’d received a call from Rhonda, his ex-wife.

Evidently Lorna, Carl’s daughter, had gotten into a fight

at school. Rhonda had been livid, since it was about the fact
that she had two dads. Well, Ryan could just imagine the
fight that had probably happened after that meeting between
Carl and Rhonda. The woman hadn’t taken it well when
Carl had moved Vincent in with him.

Carl appeared around the corner and strode into the

study. He settled the two beer bottles he carried—one in
each hand—on the coffee table, then settled on the sofa.
Vince appeared right behind him with a bag of ruffled
potato chips and a plastic tub of French onion dip.

Groaning, because he was already full, Ryan leaned

forward, snagged a chip from the bag, and dipped it into the
fatty dip. He popped the treat into his mouth and groaned as
he crunched through the tasty treat. Bringing his fingers to
his lips, he licked the traces of salt from them.

Chuckling, Carl smiled at him, his hazel eyes twinkling.

“I remember you like salty instead of sweet for dessert.” He

Charlie Richards

balled up a clean napkin and tossed it at him. “Don’t get
crumbs all over my favorite chair.”

Ryan caught the napkin, snorting. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Soooo,” Carl drew out the word, his eyes narrowing.

“You let Jake drive your Stingray. What’s up with that?”

Shrugging, Ryan grabbed another chip, scooped up some

dip, then paused before popping it into his mouth. “You’ve
driven my Ducati,” he pointed out before eating the chip.

Snorting, Carl smirked. “Yeah, because you called me

when you were drunk.”

It had only happened once, years before, right after

working his last case in narcotics. During the course of the
investigation, it’d come out that the woman he’d been dating
had been seeing him under orders of the drug king pin. It
had almost blown his case. While he hadn’t been paired with
Carl at the time, they’d gone to the academy together and
remained friendly. He’d drunk called him and Carl had
driven to the bar and picked up his drunk ass.

The next day, Ryan had put in his transfer. Carl had put

in a good word for him, and they’d been working together
ever since. It was why Ryan would always stand beside the
man and why he considered Carl’s family as his own.

Pushing those thoughts away, Ryan stated, “The morning

of Jake’s driving test, his boyfriend broke up with him.”

“What?” Carl snapped. “Pete did what?”
Ryan nodded slowly. “Pete thought Jake refused to do,

uh, certain things with him because he was attracted to
someone else. Pete blamed it on him joining the football
team.” Seeing his friend’s confused expression, Ryan
elaborated. “When Jake told Pete he planned to try out for
the football team this year, too, Pete dumped him.” He
paused and shrugged, glancing between the two men.
Deciding he might as well share all of it, he added, “Jake

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says he and Ross are more than study buddies, if you know
what I mean.”

Ryan understood. Young hormones had teenagers

attracted to one person one minute and someone else the
next. Hell, he’d dated several girls at the same time while in
high school. Listening to parents at work talk about how
their kids were going steady, he didn’t understand it. No one
knew what they wanted—hell, what they needed—in a
partner at that age. They needed to explore, see how they
meshed with different personalities. He’d thought he knew
what he wanted at age twenty-six, and he’d still fucked up.

“Guess we have something to talk to Jake about,” Carl

murmured. “That was six months ago.”

“It does explain why he screwed up his driver’s test,

though,” Vincent pointed out.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” Carl sounded so agonized.
Ryan tapped his beer bottle on his outer thigh and

debated what to say. Finally, he blurted, “Pete pushed him
too hard and Jake said no. I, uh—” Pausing, he cleared his
throat. “He didn’t know how to talk about that with you.”

Carl gaped at him for a few seconds, then snapped, “But

he could talk to you?”

Holding up his empty hand in placation, Ryan leaned

forward, set his empty bottle on the coffee table and grabbed
a full beer. He settled back in his seat and ignored his
buddy’s hushed whispers as he discussed with his husband
the information Ryan had given him. As had been his habit
the last few days, the second he wasn’t focused on anything,
he thought about Morgan…or more to the point, his mouth
and his ass.

Ryan must have been lost in thought longer than he

thought, for suddenly he heard Vincent ask, “So, why did
you ask about ass fucking?”

Charlie Richards

It was a good thing Ryan had already swallowed his

mouthful of beer, otherwise he would have spewed it all
over himself. He glared at Vincent. “Fuck, man. What?”

Vincent just exchanged a look with Carl.
Damn, Ryan should have known Carl would have told

his partner. Growling, he scowled at his beer for a few
seconds. Finally, deciding to go for broke, he gazed at his
buddies and admitted, “That night at the Halloween party, I
found Morgan in the parking lot being hassled by a trio of
guys.” He still saw red when he thought about what could
have happened to the sexy…man.

At his friend’s alarmed looks, Ryan held up his hand. “I

sent them running,” he assured, just keeping a hint of
defensiveness from his tone. “Then, uh—” He paused,
feeling his face heating. While he’d never been shy about
saying he’d bedded someone, he’d never been into sharing
specifics before. Licking his lips, he admitted swiftly, “He
gave me the best fucking blowjob of my life.”

Ryan jumped to his feet, unable to stay still. Especially

since just thinking about the man’s hot mouth, sensual lips,
and ability to deep-throat his erection—something no
woman had ever done for him—caused his prick to swell in
his jeans. Setting the now empty beer on the coffee table,
Ryan paced the small room.

Upon spotting his friend’s shocked looks, he growled

under his breath, then snarled, “I didn’t know Morgan was a
man. Fuck, did you see her? Him?” He shook his head as he
corrected himself. “He’s fucking hot! And he fucking deep
throats!” He felt his face heat as he admitted that. Turning
away, he rested his hands on the mantel of the fireplace and
hung his head between his forearms.

Fucking hell!
Breathing deeply, Ryan tried to get his suddenly aching

prick under control. Feeling someone’s hand land between
his shoulder blades, he lifted his head and met Carl’s

Lifting Techniques

questioning gaze. “I thought Morgan was a woman,” he
repeated. “It wasn’t until I offered to please her…him, and
he started to pull away that…” He sighed and muttered, “I
swung my arm to grab for her hip and felt something I
shouldn’t, ya know? If it were a woman, there wouldn’t
have been a bulge there. Then, he bucked and moaned
and—” He finally managed to stop his verbal diarrhea and
rested his forehead on his left arm.

“Oh, my god,” Carl mumbled. “That’s why you asked

about ass fucking a man.”

Ryan felt more than saw Vincent step up on his other

side. The firefighter settled his hand on his shoulder and
squeezed. “I can see why you would freak out over that.”

Knowing Vincent was trying to be supportive, Ryan lifted

his head and admitted, “I didn’t freak out. I cupped his dick
to confirm what I felt, then I walked away. Now all I can
think about is how it’d feel to fuck his ass.” After saying it
out loud, he groaned and tensed, his cock hardening in his
jeans. “He’s so fucking beautiful.”

“Here.”
Ryan pushed away from the fireplace mantel and faced

Carl. The fellow cop held out a fresh beer. After he’d taken
it, Vincent took his elbow and led him to the sofa and urged
him to sit. The men took up seats on either side of him.

Struggling with what he was feeling, let alone with what

he should say now, Ryan took a swig of the beverage.

“So, you want to fuck him?” Vincent asked softly.
Unable to find his tongue, Ryan just met his gaze. He

didn’t even have to say anything to the firefighter. The
answer must have been written all over his face. Hell, maybe
it was the erection pressing against his fly. Vincent peered
past him toward his lover.

“So, why don’t you fuck him then?” Carl asked.

Charlie Richards

Ryan felt as if his head were on a swivel. He stared

incredulously at his partner. “What?”

Carl smirked. “What? I have to spell it out for you? He’s

Doctor Morgan Pruitt. You know where to find him. Track
him down and fuck him.”

“Come on, man!” Ryan snapped, unable to believe his

partner’s words. “Do you know what would happen if I
started dating a guy?”

Scoffing, Carl crossed his arms over his chest. “You

wouldn’t have to worry about knocking up some chick.”

Ryan snorted, more out of irritation than because it was

funny. “No. You know what I mean. The guys on the force.”

“Ah, of course,” Carl replied. “If you date a man, they’re

going to assume one of two things. Either you’re a lying
asshat who’s been gay all this time and didn’t want to tell for
one reason or another.” Carl waggled his brows. “I’m going
with, you’re a pussy.”

“Asshole,” Ryan snarled, glaring at the other man.
Without missing a beat, Carl continued, “Or, being gay

really is something that can rub off on you, and since I have
wicked manipulation skills, I’ve convinced you to go queer.”
He waggled his brows again and grinned.

Gaping at his friend, Ryan didn’t even know what to say

to that.

“But, I’ve n-never—” Ryan didn’t even know how to

finish that one. Sure, he’d ass-fucked women a few times
when they’d asked for it, but he’d never suggested it. “Wh-
Why would he—” He didn’t know how to finish that, either.

Vincent bumped into his shoulder, getting his attention.

He offered him a wry smile. “You know, I’ve heard Morgan
is a size queen. If you’re as big as the rumors say you are,
I’m sure he’d be happy to let you fuck him.” Then, he
smirked and added, “That is, if you’re as good with your
prick as you claim to be.”

Lifting Techniques

Ryan’s confused expression must have said it all.
Grinning, Vincent advised, “Be honest. Tell him you’ve

never wanted a guy before, but you can’t get him out of your
mind. Tell him you’ve been obsessing over him since you
met the other night.” He leaned close and winked. “Hell, tell
him you’re bi-curious, but only for him, and want him to
teach you how to please him.” Vincent shrugged. “Any guy
would be flattered to hear that.” His expression sobered.
“Just remember to listen and be honest. If something freaks
you out, you need to tell him.”

Glancing between his partner and his…partner…Ryan

wondered if it could really be that simple. If it was, did he
have the balls to do it?

Charlie Richards

Chapter Six

organ signed the chart while glancing toward his
patient. Mrs. Colton was still sleeping. That really was

best for her. Between the fractured collarbone and the pair of
cracked ribs, she needed her rest. Morgan just wished he
could figure out what to say to her to get her to leave her
asshole husband.

Fighting back a sigh, Morgan left the room. He tucked a

strand of hair that had come loose from his braid behind his
ear and closed his eyes for just as instant.

Damn asshole alpha males.
Pushing away from the wall, he got hold of himself and

headed toward the nurse’s station. He smiled at Julie, who
stood behind the counter, and asked, “Hey, Jules. What’s
next for me?”

“A break,” Nurse Julie Taggard stated. She used her pen

to point back toward the double doors. “You have fifteen
minutes. Use them wisely.”

Morgan would have asked whether she was sure, but

then her eyes narrowed. He recognized her now git look.
Holding up his hands in placation, he nodded. “Right. I’m
going to be hiding in the second floor break room.”

Julie gave him a commiserating smile as she stated, “Still

having trouble with Marian?”

“Afraid so,” Morgan admitted softly. “Plus, it has a

couch. I’m gonna rest my eyes,” he admitted.

Lifting Techniques

Waving, Julie told him, “If I don’t see you in twenty, I’ll

send someone up after you.”

Morgan turned away. “Thanks.”
Heading back through the doors, Morgan strode swiftly

toward the elevator. He’d learned early that if you looked
like you were in a hurry, no one tried to stop and ask
questions. After punching the up button, he clasped his
hands behind his back and waited somewhat impatiently.
He really wanted to relax.

Just as the door opened, Morgan sensed a presence

behind him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on
end. He stepped quickly into the elevator, hit the two button,
and turned, expecting to see Marian. Instead, Morgan just
managed to keep from gaping.

His hero, the Viking cop, stepped in after him.
Morgan took a protective step away from the man,

wondering why he was there. Did he even recognize him?
While the man hadn’t hurt him Saturday night, maybe he
wanted to now. Had the guy worked past his shock and was
now angry?

“Relax,” the cop rumbled softly as the elevator door

closed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Evidently, Morgan hadn’t done as good a job as he

thought in keeping his thoughts to himself. He’d had more
than one ex tell him that whatever he was thinking was
written all over his face. Still, it normally took them a little
time to learn to read him. Maybe it was a cop thing.

Once the door was closed, the other man turned toward

him and stared at him levelly. His dark-eyed gaze swept
over his face for a few seconds, then a wry smile curved up
one corner of his mouth. “You know, you really are a pretty
man, even in scrubs.”

Morgan gaped. “You remember me,” he whispered.

Charlie Richards

Smiling faintly, his dark eyes serene, he nodded. “I do.”

He gripped the zipper of his open jacket and pulled it aside,
revealing the badge on his belt. “I’m a detective,” he
revealed. He released his coat and held out his hand.
“Detective Ryan Straton.”

Tentatively, Morgan took the man’s hand. “Doctor

Morgan Pruitt.”

Instead of releasing him, Ryan’s hand tightened just a bit,

hanging onto him. “We need to talk.”

“Look,” Morgan murmured. “I won’t tell anyone. Okay?”
Ryan sighed and grimaced, dropping his hand. He

shoved his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, which drew
attention to his groin.

Morgan couldn’t help but lower his gaze, taking in that

impressive bulge. Memories of what Ryan’s cock had
looked, felt, and tasted like filled him, and his own prick
thickened in his scrubs. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to
hide his arousal if he became much harder, he tried to think
unsexy thoughts. It was difficult with the hot man standing
next to him.

“I’m not gay,” Ryan mumbled. “So, uh, yeah, if you could

not mention…shit.”

Yep, that caused Morgan’s arousal to deflate faster than

anything he could have thought of. Clenching his hands at
his sides, Morgan nodded. “Yeah. Of course. It was, um, just
a bit of masked Halloween fun,” he mumbled.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Morgan

walked out of the space, ready to be away from the sexy
man he couldn’t have.

“Wait,” Ryan called, stepping out of the elevator and

gripping his arm.

Ryan tugged Morgan to a stop, his hold surprisingly

gentle even as he urged him to turn around to face him.

Lifting Techniques

Looking up at the man’s face, Morgan could only call his
expression conflicted. What could the guy possibly want?

“Oh, you’re a detective. Right,” Morgan mumbled, ready

to die of embarrassment. Of course the guy didn’t come here
just to see him. “Are you here about Mrs. Colton? Is she
finally pressing charges against her husband?” he asked
hopefully.

A scowl caused the man’s dark brows to furrow. “Mrs.

Colton? No.” He shook his head. “I came to talk to you.
Where’s the break room you said you were going to?”

Gaping, Morgan just stared for a few seconds.
Ryan lifted his free hand, almost tentatively, and crooking

his forefinger, placed it under his chin and urged his mouth
shut. “Break room,” Ryan urged.

Nodding dumbly, Morgan waved his arm, vaguely

indicating toward the right. “It’s this way.” As he turned in
the direction he’d indicated, Ryan released him. He didn’t
know why, but suddenly he wanted those hands back on
him.

What the hell is wrong with me?
Morgan had never obsessed over someone like he had

Ryan all week long. Never in his wildest dreams had he
thought the man would show up at his work. Okay, maybe
in his wildest, he could admit that…because his dream two
nights before had been about this man tugging him into a
supply closet and fucking him blind.

And there goes my prick again. Shit!
Unable to help it, Morgan’s face heated and he knew he

was blushing. He shoved the break room door open and
strode inside the room. Once he confirmed that the place
was empty, he adjusted his prick, praying the fact that he
had his back to Ryan hid his movements.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Morgan asked. “It’s not

real good, but—”

“No, thank you,” Ryan murmured.

Charlie Richards

The click of the door sounded loud in Morgan’s ears.

Then Ryan once again gripped his upper arm and urged him
to turn. Pivoting, Morgan glanced at Ryan’s large, blunt-
fingered hand on his arm, then peered at the detective.

“Morgan,” Ryan murmured gruffly, his dark eyes

glittering with some unknown emotion. “I have been
obsessing about your lips all week.” Settling his second hand
on Morgan’s hip, he tugged lightly. “We kissed and you
tasted fantastic. Can we do that again?”

Morgan went along with Ryan’s urging, allowing him to

pull him close until there was only a hairsbreadth between
them. Lifting his hands, Morgan hesitated an instant before
settling them on the detective’s chest. He slid his fingers
over the supple leather of the man’s jacket, wanting to move
his hands underneath it, but not daring to.

“You, uh, you want to kiss me?” Morgan managed to ask.

“Why?”

Ryan scoffed as he narrowed his eyes. His gaze lowered

to Morgan’s lips. “Even unpainted, they are the prettiest lips
I’ve seen in ages. I can’t get how they felt moving against my
own out of my head. And your tongue.” He growled.

Even as his body tensed beneath Morgan’s hand, Ryan’s

hold remained gentle, as if he were made of spun glass.
Considering the man normally held women, that made
sense. While Morgan would love to indulge the man—hell,
he’d enjoyed the feel of this man’s whiskers on his cheeks—
he feared for his safety more.

“Do you promise not to hit me?” Morgan blurted out the

question.

Ryan’s face flushed under his beard. For a second,

Morgan thought him angry, but then he grimaced. “While
I’m offended that you’d ask me that, especially after I didn’t
Saturday night, I understand why you would.” He slid his
hand up Morgan’s arm to his neck, running his thumb over

Lifting Techniques

the tendon of his neck. “I won’t hurt you,” Ryan whispered.
“Kiss me like you did the other night.”

After a second of hesitation, Morgan jerked a nod. Then

he lifted up on his toes, leaning his weight on his hands
where they rested against the other man’s chest. Lifting his
head, Morgan allowed his eyelids to lower to half-mast.

Heat flared in Ryan’s dark eyes, making them appear to

spark. Then he growled softly, lowered his head, and slanted
his lips over Morgan’s own. The soft hairs of the man’s
beard tickled just a little, and Morgan wasted no time
opening his mouth and flicking out his tongue.

Ryan lifted his head a fraction of an inch, and for an

instant, Morgan thought his forwardness had ruined
everything. Except Ryan groaned, “Hell, yeah,” then sealed
his lips over Morgan’s mouth again and thrust his tongue
into him.

Licking into his mouth boldly, Ryan slid his hand up just

a smidge and wrapped his fingers around Morgan’s neck.
He petted the base of his throat with his thumb as he thrust
his tongue in deep and plundered him.

Morgan shivered in Ryan’s grip. He swallowed

convulsively upon feeling the man’s thumb rubbing over his
Adam’s apple. Heat spread down his chest, causing his
nipples to bead. He fought down a moan, the noise instead
coming out a whimper.

Ryan growled into his mouth, then sucked on Morgan’s

tongue. Moving his hand from Morgan’s hip around his
waist, he settled his hand on the small of his back. Then
Ryan tightened his arm, tugging Morgan, urging him closer.

Lust flowing through his veins, Morgan followed the

subtle instruction. He settled against Ryan, their bodies
pressing together from chest to knees. His groin settled
against Ryan’s upper thigh. His erection was at just the right
height to press against the other man’s balls.

Charlie Richards

Arms stiffening, body tensing, Ryan’s mouth stopped

working.

Realizing what had happened, Morgan jerked his head

back, separating their lips. He wanted to pull away, to move
his groin away from Ryan’s. Unfortunately, he feared that
would set the man off. Morgan should have known this was
too good to be true. Straight men didn’t just suddenly go
gay.

Morgan peered up at the other man through his lashes.

Reading the man’s expression carefully, he swore he didn’t
see anger or disgust. Instead, Ryan appeared confused
and…horny. His thick brows drawn together, he flicked out
his tongue to sweep over his kiss-swollen lips.

Blinking dilated eyes, Ryan whispered, “Damn. I don’t

remember the last time I’ve enjoyed a kiss so much.” He
blinked a couple more times, clearing most of the glazed
look from his eyes. Finally, he focused on Morgan, meeting
his gaze. “I know I’m supposed to be freaking out right now.
I’ve never felt another man’s erection pressed against mine.
I—” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“I want to press you against this door I’m leaning against
and fuck you. I want to pound your ass so bad I could
almost come just imagining it.”

Morgan’s jaw sagged open, shock coursing through him.

“Y-You want to fuck me?”

Ryan’s smile looked a little rueful. “Am I not supposed to

say it like that?” he asked. “My partner, Carl—well I told
him and his partner about what happened Saturday night
and how I’ve been obsessing over you, and Vincent said to
be honest.” He met Morgan’s gaze and gave him a hopeful
smile. “You know. Stuff like, I’m not gay. I’ve never been
attracted to a guy before, but there’s something about you
that I find fucking irresistible.” Sighing, his arms tightening
around Morgan, he growled, “Shit. I’m supposed to admit

Lifting Techniques

I’m bi-curious or something, but I’m only interested if it’s
with you. I’ve never looked twice at a guy before and—”

Morgan lifted his hand to Ryan’s lips and placed his palm

over his mouth. “Stop,” he whispered, smiling. Damn, the
big, hairy bear was so damn cute when he was so worked up
and lost control of his mouth. “I’ll ask questions and you
answer. Okay?” Before he lifted his hand, he widened his
eyes to express his seriousness as he added, “Clear and
concise. Got it?”

Some of the vacant look left Ryan’s eyes and he nodded

once.

Smiling, Morgan murmured, “You lost me at Carl is your

partner, then saying Carl had a partner. Who’s Carl?” It
hadn’t made much sense to him. Ryan had said he wasn’t
gay, then he’d said he had a partner? What the hell did that
mean? Wanting to know, Morgan lifted his fingers.

Ryan smirked. “Guess that does need explaining, huh?”
“Concise,” Morgan teased, unable to help himself.
Chuckling, Ryan nodded. “Right. My partner on the force

is Detective Carl Lewis. He’s bisexual. Been married.
Divorced. Ex-wife is a bitch. Has two kids. Lorna, turns
thirteen in a month. Jake, seventeen and gay. Carl’s partner
is Vincent Androse, a firefighter at the one-twenty-eighth
who hosted the Halloween party last weekend.”

When Ryan stopped talking, Morgan slowly nodded.

That explained why the detective didn’t freak out—well,
sort of. He was already comfortable with men loving men.
Still, that didn’t explain why Ryan suddenly found him
attractive.

Does it matter? If I say yes, I get to feel that monster cock

plowing my ass.

“So, you want to fuck me?” Morgan whispered.
Ryan nodded. “Very much so.”
Morgan narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want a

relationship and you don’t want anyone to know, do you?”

Charlie Richards

Ryan remained quiet a moment, then whispered his

admission. “I’m not what you’d call relationship material. I
fuck ’em and leave ’em. It works for me.” He licked his lips.
“Carl says I don’t trust anymore.”

Looking into the worried eyes of the man holding him,

the man whose hard dick pressed against his stomach,
Morgan wondered who could have hurt the man so badly
that he gave up on love, on finding someone special. But he
realized he’d never be that man—the one to teach Ryan to
love and trust again. Hell, if Ryan learned to love again, it’d
probably be with some sweet girl. Still, he could give him
this…a satisfying fuck.

“I get off of work at eight tonight. Will you be available?”
“Yeah.”

Lifting Techniques

Chapter Seven

yan leaned against his motorcycle. He wore his chaps
over his jeans and a sweatshirt under his leather jacket

to ward off the October evening chill. He alternated between
panic and anticipation. His prick remained half-hard—
despite the cold—at the prospect of fucking Morgan, even as
his pulse pounded through his body in a mixture of desire
and fear.

Am I really going to do this?
Spotting Morgan leaving through the emergency room

doors, Ryan swung onto his bike. He left his helmet resting
on the gas tank between his thighs, brought the bike to life,
and rumbled his way toward the smaller man.

Yep, I’m really going to do this.
Ryan rolled slowly toward the slender male, taking in his

masculine form. His gaze landed on the man’s ass. High,
tight round cheeks that a woman would probably kill for,
Ryan had the urge to grip and squeeze them. He just knew
those globes would be the perfect handful.

“Morgan,” Ryan called.
Morgan turned and spotted him. Striding toward him, he

swept his gaze over Ryan, then his bike. Ryan saw the heat
spark in the other man’s eyes. He figured he should be
turned off by the fact that he was being admired by another
man—instead he felt…pride.

Grinning, Ryan stopped next to Morgan. “Where are you

parked?”

Charlie Richards

Pointing, Morgan replied, “Just there.”
Ryan glanced in the direction Morgan indicated for an

instant, then returned his focus to the other man. “Let’s go,
then.” Now that he’d made the decision, his prick ached
with anticipation.

Morgan nodded, suddenly looking uncertain. “Uh, your

place or mine?”

“Yours,” Ryan immediately stated. Glancing around to

make certain he wouldn’t be overheard, he added, “Since
you have, you know, everything we’ll need, right?”

Nodding again, Morgan turned away. “Follow me, then.”
Ryan did so. He tried not to allow his nerves to take over,

even though the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Frowning, he glanced around, searching for the source of the
feeling.

A brunette in a nurse’s uniform stood near the emergency

room doors. She had her arms crossed over her chest and
she scowled in his direction. At first, Ryan thought she was
glaring at him, then he realized she focused on Morgan.

Stopping his bike next to Morgan’s car, Ryan called,

“Hey, who’s the unhappy nurse?”

Morgan straightened from where he placed his satchel in

the back seat and looked at him. Ryan picked up his helmet
and indicated in the direction of the doors before settling it
on his head.

Grimacing, Morgan stated, “Nurse Marian Seeger. She’s

not taking no for an answer.”

“Fancies you, huh?” Ryan teased, buckling his helmet.
“Unfortunately,” Morgan replied. He turned away and

slid into his car.

Ryan frowned and glanced her way again, but she had

already turned away. Oddly enough, he felt a surge of
protectiveness fill him. The idea of running a background
check on her even popped into his mind.

Lifting Techniques

Shaking his head at the ridiculous notion, Ryan revved

his engine and hit the throttle. He stopped at the end of the
parking aisle and waited, using his rearview mirror to watch
Morgan back his car out of his parking space and head
toward him.

Once Morgan passed him, Ryan followed.

After a ten minute drive, Ryan rode his motorcycle

through the entrance to a townhome subdivision. When
Morgan parked his car in the garage of one, he nosed his
motorcycle into the small space to the left of the vehicle. He
didn’t think it was going to rain, but better safe than sorry.

Ryan convinced himself that was the reason, and not

because he wanted to hide his motorcycle just in case
someone who might recognize it drove by…however slim
that chance was.

Turning off his bike, Ryan swung off, removed his

helmet, and settled it on his seat. He watched Morgan climb
from his car and busied himself with removing his chaps.
Draping them over his motorcycle, he straightened. He
shifted his weight from foot to foot as he watched Morgan
reach into the now open back car door and retrieve his bag.
Ryan’s fingers itched to step up behind the man and grip the
firm globes so clearly on display.

Finally, Morgan turned and offered him a smile. “You

having second thoughts?”

While Ryan knew in his mind he was having a mild freak-

out, his cock remained so hard in his jeans he was surprised
he hadn’t split the seam. He knew he wasn’t a small man,
and he often had to buy a size larger just to accommodate a
hard-on.

“No,” Ryan replied. “I want you.”
Ryan rounded the back of the car, heading toward

Morgan. Tingles of anticipation danced up his spine upon

Charlie Richards

seeing the shy, heated smile the other man sent his way. This
was good, straight-forward, both of them agreeing to scratch
a mutual itch.

After closing the garage, Morgan led the way into the

home. “Do you want a drink?”

“No.”
Morgan nodded and continued leading the way. He set

his bag down on a chair just inside the door of what was
obviously an office. Then he led the way up a flight of stairs
and into a spacious bedroom.

Ryan glanced around the space, finding himself

impressed and even a little surprised at the masculine feel of
the room. Of course, he knew that was stereotyping. Carl
and Vincent were in no way effeminate…not like Morgan.
Still, that didn’t make Morgan a woman, and Ryan needed
to remember that.

Standing just inside the door, Ryan watched as Morgan

stopped in the middle of the room and turned to stare at
him. He smiled tentatively and offered, “Would you like me
to get ready in the bathroom while you get comfortable on
the bed?”

“Get ready?” Ryan asked, forcing his feet to move him

closer. He clenched and released his hands at his sides,
trying to decide how to play this.

Morgan shrugged one shoulder and looked past Ryan.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You have a big dick, and it’s been a
while for me, so, um, I’m gonna need a bit of prep. Stretch
my chute, ya know?” Morgan’s cheeks turned a pleasing
shade of pink.

Ryan nodded, liking the look very much. “Right. I should

have known that,” he mumbled. “Uh—” Was he supposed
to offer to help? Did he want to see that? No, not really.
“Sure, I’ll get undressed.”

Lifting Techniques

Nodding, Morgan headed into the bathroom. “Be right

back.”

Crossing to the bed, Ryan stared at it, then glanced

around the room. The walls were done in a light ivy colored
green and the furniture was dark oak. Morgan had spread a
green comforter that, in Ryan’s opinion, matched the walls
almost perfectly. The furniture consisted of the bed frame,
nightstands, and two dressers.

Guess it pays to be a doctor.
Ryan wandered the room restlessly as he slipped off his

leather jacket. He draped it over the boot box at the foot of
the bed, then pulled off his sweatshirt and did the same with
it. Reaching behind his head, he gripped the back of his t-
shirt and yanked it over his head. Needing to do something
with his hands, he folded everything and placed them in a
pile.

Reaching for the button of his jeans, Ryan paused. He

glanced toward the bathroom. Uncertainty filled him.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
In the next instant, the vision of Morgan’s lips wrapped
around his dick peering up at him with lust-drunk eyes as
he blew him flashed across his memory. He could practically
feel the hot, wet suction.

Opening his eyes, Ryan opened the button of his jeans

and lowered the zipper. He looked down and saw his
erection stretching the fabric of his underwear to capacity. A
wet spot already spread around his leaking head, reminding
Ryan of just how much he wanted Morgan, man or not.

Ryan sat down on the boot box, bent over, and unlaced

his motorcycle boots. After loosening them, he toed them off,
then yanked his socks off and tucked them into the boots.
Hearing the soft click of the bathroom door opening, Ryan
straightened.

Swallowing hard, Ryan took in the man before him.

Morgan’s lean and toned form stood about five foot eight.

Charlie Richards

He carried muscle definition in all the right places, which
probably wasn’t something Ryan was supposed to be
noticing. His pale blond hair fell around his shoulders like a
halo, making his blue eyes pop.

“Wow,” Ryan murmured. His gaze riveted on the slender

ridge outlining the black boy-shorts Morgan wore. He
remembered cupping the man’s erection and, feeling oddly
curious, wanted to do it again. “Come here.”

Morgan moved slowly toward him, his expression a bit

wary and a lot questioning. Ryan met his gaze and smiled. “I
want to touch you,” he admitted. “Is that okay?” Ryan
figured he should check. Hell if he knew etiquette. This was
a hook-up, right?

“Yeah,” Morgan replied. “Do what you want. We’ll go at

your speed.”

Ryan’s brows shot up. He was almost thirty six years old.

He’d been having sex for over two decades, and all of a
sudden he was a newbie to sex all over again? He didn’t care
for the reminder that he could very well be in over his head.
Refusing to back down now that he had the object of his
obsession before him—willing and waiting—Ryan stood. He
reached out, took Morgan’s hand, and led him around the
bed. He released him just long enough to kick off his jeans,
earning him an amused look from Morgan when he left
them in a heap on the floor.

“Do I need to fuck you right now, since you stretched?”

Ryan asked, deciding blunt would be best as he climbed up
onto the bed and urged Morgan to follow him. “Or can sex
wait? I’d like to see and touch first.”

Morgan crawled up after him, saying, “If that’s what you

want to do.” He gave him a flirty smile, peering at him from
beneath his lashes in a move that Ryan was beginning to
realize was a mix between flirty and shy. “I don’t mind if
you want to explore.”

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Situating himself with his back to the headboard—a

pillow between his skin and the wood—Ryan urged Morgan
to sit between his spread thighs and settle his back to his
chest. With their size differences, Morgan rested his head
against his collarbone which allowed him to look up and see
him as well. It also put his lips at the perfect angle to kiss.

Ryan took advantage.
Lowering his head, Ryan sealed his lips over Morgan’s

mouth. He licked and nipped gently, urging the man to open
to him. Thrusting his tongue in deep, Ryan enjoyed
Morgan’s flavor. The man tasted minty, like he’d just
brushed his teeth, mixed with the dark muskiness that he
attributed to the man.

Appreciating that Morgan allowed him to take his time,

Ryan leisurely licked and mapped the man’s mouth. He
trailed his hands off Morgan’s shoulders and down his arms,
tracing the toned skin over muscle. Tangling his tongue with
Morgan’s, Ryan drew courage from the whimpers of
obvious pleasure the other man fed him. He slid his arms
around the man. Rubbing the palm of his left hand over
Morgan’s taut abs, he moved his other down…down until
his fingertips skated across the soft fabric—silk, hot damn,
so sexy—of Morgan’s boy-shorts.

Ryan ended the kiss, lifting his head. For some reason, he

wanted to see the other man’s face as he took him in hand.
Morgan peered up at him, his eyes glazed, panting through
his kiss-swollen lips. Watching that beautiful expression on
the doctor’s face, Ryan moved his hand that inch needed so
he could trace his forefingers along the shaft filling Morgan’s
briefs.

Morgan shivered in his arms. The erection under his

fingers twitched. When he reached the cap of Morgan’s cock,
he swirled around the head, finding the fabric damp from

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pre-cum. He rolled his fingers around the end once, twice
more, massaging the flared flesh.

Well, fuck! That’s damn sexy!
“Are you so hard because of my kiss?” Ryan asked

gruffly, finding his own prick aching in his briefs at the idea.
“Or from the prospect of my shaft spearing you?”

Morgan’s dilated eyes peered up at him. “Y-Yeah, both,

and you’re touching me and it feels even better than the plug
in my ass.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “P-Plug?” he stammered. He knew

he gaped, but he couldn’t help it. Out of some bizarre
curiosity, he slid his fingers down Morgan’s shaft, over and
past his balls and between his legs. He searched for the
man’s hidden entrance.

Peering back at him dazedly, Morgan spread his legs

wider, letting Ryan touch and fondle at will. When his
fingertips traced over a bump, Morgan moaned and
shuddered. Ryan froze for all of two seconds. Then, wanting
to see that reaction again, he found that spot again and
jostled the…plug…in Morgan’s ass.

“Oh, fuck,” Morgan whined. “H-Hero!”
Liking the sound of…all of that, Ryan growled. His prick

ached, jerking and oozing in his own briefs. He wanted to
replace that plug with his cock…now.

Ryan heaved forward, pushing Morgan and rolling them

until the smaller man lay on his stomach. Stretching out on
top of him, he ground his erection against Morgan’s ass. He
rutted slowly, growling at the pleasure pinging through him
upon the stimulation spreading from his dick, out from his
groin, and through his body.

Morgan writhed underneath him.
Feeling the movement, Ryan’s first instinct was to freeze

and assess. Was his lover objecting? Then he heard Morgan’s
moan. Following that, Morgan arched his back and pressed
his ass against Ryan’s crotch, rocking against him.

Lifting Techniques

Ryan slid his knees between Morgan’s legs, urging his

thighs apart. At the same time, he pressed his palms into the
mattress and rose up above him. Morgan followed him,
rising on his own limbs. He continued to rock his ass against
Ryan’s prick. The friction caused Ryan’s dick to throb, his
need building.

The realization that Morgan wanted this just as much as

he did, that he moved and wriggled with a need for more,
slithered into his lust-infused brain. Holy shit! The way
Morgan moved under him, shivered from his touch, and
groaned in obvious enjoyment—the sounds drove Ryan out
of his mind.

“Fuck, Morgan,” Ryan snarled, trying to hold his shit

together. All he wanted was to yank down both their
underwear just a bit, pull out the plug Morgan had
mentioned, and replace the toy with his throbbing shaft.
“Want to fuck you so bad.”

“Y-Yeah, do it,” Morgan whined, panting. “Guess I

couldn’t wait long after all.”

Ryan was about to snarl a reply when Morgan suddenly

lunged forward, half out from under him. For just a second,
Ryan thought that was the end of it. Questions reeled
through his mind.

What did I do wrong?

How did I push too hard?
Wasn’t Morgan enjoying it?

Were men so different to read?
Then, Morgan rocked back and flailed his arm a bit before

waving something. Ryan got his head together enough to
realize Morgan was holding up a condom.

Fuck, yeah!
Ryan snagged the prophylactic as he rocked back to a

kneeling position. He shoved his briefs beneath his balls and
rolled the latex down his dick. Next, he gripped the band of

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Morgan’s boy shorts and pushed them down, revealing the
man’s round, beautiful globes.

Stunning!
“Here,” Morgan mumbled. “Use this.”
Ryan looked up from his perusal of Morgan’s ass and

spotted the tube he held.

Lube. Right.
Grabbing the tube, Ryan poured a dollop onto his hand

and tossed the tube aside. He rubbed his prick briskly—
reciting multiplication tables to keep from coming—then
threaded his still slick fingertips down Morgan’s ass-crack.

Ryan located the base of the plug. When he jostled it with

his forefinger, Morgan moaned and canted his hips higher.
“Fuck, yeah.” Ryan growled as he gripped the plug and
pulled it free. Dropping it who knew where, Ryan lined up
his cock with one hand and gripped Morgan’s hip with the
other. With a hard thrust, he buried himself deep inside
Morgan’s body.

Groaning, Ryan felt his eyes nearly roll to the back of his

head as his cock became encased in the hottest, tightest
channel he’d ever felt.

Lifting Techniques

Chapter Eight

organ’s breath hitched. His chute stretched to
accommodate Ryan’s larger than average dick, causing

a stinging burn to radiate through his ass. Reveling in the
sensation, having missed that tingling feeling for so long,
Morgan moaned and clenched around Ryan’s invading
prick.

“Holy fucking god,” Ryan mumbled, his lips tickling the

nape of Morgan’s neck where he pressed his face. “Yeah,
milk me, baby.”

While Morgan knew the term of endearment meant

nothing, his heart still felt as if it tripped in his chest. Then
he reminded himself that this was just a straight guy
obsessed with his lips and ass and this was nothing more
than two men scratching an itch. Hell, he was just settling
Ryan’s curiosity. That was all.

With that thought firmly in mind, Morgan vowed to enjoy

the fucking for all it was worth…and to make certain Ryan
did, too. He arched his back, pressing his ass more firmly
against his lover’s groin as he rhythmically contracted and
relaxed the muscles in his channel.

Ryan moaned and shuddered above him. His left hand

planted on the mattress and his right hand palmed Morgan’s
stomach. Using strength that impressed Morgan, he lifted
them to their hands and knees, Morgan’s back flush to his
chest.

“Stay still,” Ryan ordered gruffly. “Don’t move.”

Charlie Richards

Morgan’s body trembled at the command and he

struggled to obey, especially when Ryan just stayed in that
position for a few seconds, the fingertips of his ring and
pinky fingers massaging the base of his prick.

Ever so slowly, Ryan began to move. He pulled his dick

nearly free of Morgan’s channel, pausing when his wide
crown tugged at the edges of Morgan’s opening. After
holding his cock there for just an instant, Ryan drove deep
into Morgan.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Morgan couldn’t help but whisper.
The force of Ryan’s thrust combined with the depth his

erection reached inside him sent a burning ache through his
rectum. When Ryan pulled back out and did it again, he
adjusted his angle just enough to slide his cock over
Morgan’s gland. Sparks erupted through Morgan’s body.
His prick bobbed and twitched between his legs, tapping
against the back of Ryan’s hand, since his fingers were still
massaging around his shaft’s base.

“Damn good,” Ryan growled in his ear. “Tell me you like

this. Tell you like my dick in your ass.”

Morgan realized while Ryan might fuck like a God,

having never been with a man, he needed reassurance. He
could do that. Staying silent had never been in his nature
anyway. Holding his tongue had been a conscious effort,
taking away from some of the enjoyment. Opening his
mouth, Morgan babbled.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, Hero. Give me your cock. Drive your

giant rod into me. Use your tool in my ass. I can take it. My
ass is greedy for your fucking.”

As Morgan spoke, he ignored Ryan’s earlier command to

stay still. He lowered his chest to the mattress, arching his
back and pulling his back away from Ryan’s chest. Moving
in counterpoint, he met his lover move for move.

Lifting Techniques

Ryan moved his hands, gripping Morgan’s hips tightly.

He growled as he sped up his pace. Out of the corner of
Morgan’s eye, he saw Ryan staring down, obviously
watching as he drove his prick into him. A feral grin split his
lips as the man’s groin and thighs slapped against Morgan’s
cheeks. Ryan grunted and his hold increased as he pounded
into Morgan over and over.

“Take me,” Morgan continued, reveling in the huffing

grunts and rumbling growls coming from the man behind
him. “Make me feel it,” he urged. “Show me you know how
to use your massive cock.”

“Y-Yeah,” Ryan snarled. “Take it.”
“I can take it,” Morgan responded. “Make me burn.

Wanna feel it for days. Gonna put a plug in my ass so I can
remember your massive rod plowing me. Wear it to work,”
he continued inanely, reveling in the massive prick driving
into his channel over and over.

If possible, Ryan managed to speed up his thrusts. His

fingers clenched on him even more, digging into Morgan’s
skin. His cock sawed in and out of his chute, setting his
nerve endings tingling deliciously.

Morgan knew he moaned and pleaded like a two dollar

whore, but he couldn’t help it. Ryan prodded his prostate
with every bucking thrust. The sensitive tissues of his
channel sang with being so well used. The burn in his ass
caused his balls to ache and pull tight to his body. His shaft
oozed, his foreskin fully contracted in anticipation of
releasing his seed.

“C-C-Close,” Morgan panted, barely managing to get the

word to form past his panting lips. Wanting his growling
lover to join him over the edge, he began squeezing his ass-
muscles every time Ryan pulled out.

“Fuck!”

Charlie Richards

Ryan’s roar of blissful completion echoed through

Morgan’s room. The man jacked into him once, twice more,
before sinking into Morgan’s body and staying there, his
hips twitching against Morgan’s thighs.

Morgan’s skin goose-bumped at the feel of Ryan’s cock

swelling and pulsing inside him. At the heat of the filling
condom, Morgan whimpered. His cock jerked and shot,
painting streams of white seed all over the comforter
beneath him. Morgan panted harshly, shivers of bliss
crashing over him like waves lapping at his body.

“Holy fuck,” Ryan mumbled as he eased his hold on

Morgan’s hips.

Morgan hummed, too bliss-drunk to bother with actual

words.

Ryan petted his sides lightly for a few seconds before

gently gripping his hips again and pulling his softening
prick from Morgan’s ass. Unable to help himself, enjoying
even that, Morgan groaned. As soon as Ryan released him,
he flopped to his side, careful to avoid the wet spot, and
sighed.

After a second, Morgan realized the bed hadn’t shifted,

meaning Ryan hadn’t moved. He pried open an eyelid,
uncertain when he’d closed them, and turned his head just
enough so he could focus on the man.

Still seated on his knees and heels, Ryan rested one hand

on a thick thigh while he had the other draped in front of his
groin. He seemed to be peering around the room slowly
from beneath his lashes. His chest still heaved and he
obviously seemed to be trying to figure out…something.

Morgan’s eyes widened as his sluggish brain picked up

on Ryan’s predicament. Clearing his throat, he rolled to the
right and grabbed the tissue box. He held it out to Ryan,
wiggling it just a bit.

“Here,” Morgan offered.

Lifting Techniques

Ryan cleared his throat and lifted his left hand to take it.

After a second of hesitation, he lifted his right hand, which
was curled into a loose fist, and tugged several tissues free
with his fingertip. He placed the box by his knee and
wadded up what Morgan realized was the used condom in
the tissues.

Holding out his hand, Morgan murmured, “I’ll toss it.”
After flicking his gaze at him for a second, Ryan nodded

and handed him the bundled condom before grabbing
several more tissues. Morgan once again turned away and
tossed the wad into the trash bin to the side of his bed. When
he turned back, he leaned forward and grabbed a few tissues
for himself.

Morgan’s gaze snagged on Ryan’s hand where he was

cleaning his prick. The man’s thick blunt fingers held a
tissue and he wiped briskly over himself. Even soft, Ryan’s
plump cock made Morgan’s mouth water. He wanted to
know what it’d be like to suck the soft penis, feel it fill,
thicken, to full arousal in his mouth.

Ryan cleared his throat.
Realizing he’d been caught, Morgan glanced at the man’s

face, then focused on cleaning himself up. He knew after a
vigorous fucking like Ryan had given him, especially since
it’d been so long since he’d been used so gloriously, he
should take a bath, maybe use some ointment…at the very
least, shower. Still, Morgan couldn’t seem to force himself to
roll off the side of the bed and head to the bathroom. He
knew it was foolish, but he wanted to enjoy every moment
Ryan was willing to give him.

“Did I—” Ryan paused and cleared his throat. “Did I hurt

you?”

Morgan focused his gaze on Ryan. He spotted the lines of

unease mixing with the sated dilation of his eyes. Wanting to
reassure the man who’d given him the best fucking in over a

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decade, he offered a smirk. “Only in the best way possible,
Hero.”

Ryan nodded once, obviously taking him at his word,

which Morgan really liked. He lifted his tissues and looked
beyond Morgan. “Garbage on the other side?”

Morgan nodded.
Grunting, Ryan rolled to his ass and swung his legs over

the side of the bed. He pushed to his feet and rounded the
bed frame. Morgan watched from beneath his lashes as the
sexy detective strode confidently around the bed. With the
miles of toned, naked skin on display, Morgan practically
drooled upon watching the thick muscles flex and contract
beneath bronze-tanned flesh.

The sound of soiled tissues hitting the plastic liner of the

garbage pail pulled him out of his open perusal of the man’s
fine attributes. To his surprise and relief, Ryan smirked
down at him.

“Like what you see?”
Morgan did something he hadn’t done in years...he

blushed. The heat suffusing his cheeks confirmed it. Damn,
when was the last time he’d felt shy about being caught
ogling a guy? Pushing aside the unfamiliar sensation,
Morgan gave Ryan a cheeky grin and cocked one knee up,
putting his foot flat on the comforter.

“What’s not to like?” he asked, waving his hand up and

down Ryan’s naked body. “You gotta know you’re sex on a
stick.”

Ryan chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with humor. “I’m

glad you feel that way.”

Then, to Morgan’s surprise, Ryan gripped his hip and

pushed him a few inches away before climbing onto the
mattress beside him. Morgan let the man have his way,
moving and positioning him. Finally, Ryan spooned up
behind him, shoved his left arm under the pillow beneath

Lifting Techniques

their heads and wrapped his right arm around Morgan’s
waist loosely. He let out a long sigh that tickled the fine hairs
beneath Morgan’s ear.

Morgan wanted to say something…ask what this was.

They were done fucking. Shouldn’t Ryan be freaking out
and running away now? Morgan had expected the man to
leave right after they’d finished. Then, he’d had every
intention of running a bubble bath, drinking a glass of wine,
and soaking his tender ass while jacking off to the memory
of one of the best fuckings of his life.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Ryan mumbled, his voice

already thickly laden with sleep. “Isn’t passing out after sex
normal for guys?”

Unable to help himself, Morgan snorted. “I suppose. I just

expected you to run.”

“Hmm,” Ryan rumbled. “Run later. Too tired now.”
Morgan smirked, then a few seconds later, heard Ryan’s

breathing even out. The man began to snore ever so softly.
Relaxing against the detective, Morgan allowed himself the
unexpected pleasure of being held by the sexy man.

He slept.

Morgan roused to the feeling of someone petting the

sensitive groove of his hip. Blinking a few times, he tried to
push past his sluggish brain and figure out not only how
he’d ended up in bed with someone, but who the hell it was.
Then, the ache in his ass reminded him damn quick.

Clenching his cheeks, Morgan reveled in the sensation.
The hand resting on his side twitched, then the fingertips

once again tickled his skin.

“Hey,” Morgan mumbled, trying to ascertain whether or

not Ryan still slept.

For his effort, he received a grunt.

Charlie Richards

Morgan smiled. Deciding to take what he could, he

enjoyed the warmth of the man behind him, the hot hand on
his hip, and just the presence of another person in his bed.
It’d been so long since he’d had a regular lover. It felt…nice.

All too soon, Ryan grunted and growled something that

was too difficult for him to make out. Maybe he was still
dreaming. That was proven false when the hand on his hip
slid farther around him and rubbed against Morgan’s
morning wood.

Ryan’s hand froze. At the same time, the body behind him

stiffened…and not in the good way. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “I
thought it was a dream.”

Morgan tried to curb his natural urge to cringe—really he

did. Unfortunately, he must have failed. Just as quickly,
Morgan felt Ryan slide his arm up higher and tighten his
hold. “I wouldn’t hurt you, damn it,” he snapped thickly,
still sounding groggy. “What the fuck do I need to do to
prove that to you?”

“Sorry,” Morgan whispered. “I’ve just, uh, had plenty of

um…” His words died out. While he’d never had abusive
assholes in his bed, he’d had his fair share in dark alleys
outside clubs and bars…even professed gay ones. Not all
gay men were nice people.

Growling softly, Ryan slid his left arm down from under

his pillow and slid it under his head to grip his shoulder.
With his other hand, he reached down and gripped Ryan’s
wilting morning wood in a loose hold. Slowly, he jacked
Morgan back to full mast.

“I’ve never had another man’s prick in my hand,” Ryan

muttered, “So you better damn well relax a second so we can
talk.”

Morgan found himself doing just that, because what the

hell else would he do? “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Exploring,” Ryan replied. “You said I could.”

Lifting Techniques

Nodding, Morgan murmured, “Why now?” What he

really wanted to ask was aren’t you supposed to be freaking out
and leaving, but he feared it would stop the enjoyable
stimulation to his dick as Ryan’s rough, calloused fingers
slowly stroked his length.

“Wanted sex too much to think straight,” Ryan told him.

“Your ass was so tight and hot.” He rubbed his prick against
Morgan, confirming without words just how much he’d
enjoyed it, as his cock was full and thick once more. “Wanna
feel it again.”

Morgan rocked between the loose hold Ryan had on his

dick and the man’s hard shaft behind him. “That could
certainly be arranged,” he whispered. Even as he spoke, his
ass clenched, reminding him how well his chute had already
been used. “You’ll have to go a bit slower this time,” he
admitted, his face flushing with heat at the admission.
“Don’t want to tear anything.”

Ryan froze for an instant, then moved the hand he had on

Morgan’s shoulder to his neck. He used his fingertips to
urge Morgan to turn his head so he could look him in the
eye. “Would you really wear a plug at work to remember me
fucking you?”

Morgan’s brows shot up. He knew he’d blurted shit out

while having his ass reamed. What surprised him was that
Ryan had remembered and actually asked about it. “Y-
Yeah,” he replied. “I wear them to work often,” he admitted
honestly. “I like feeling my ass stretched.”

His brows furrowing, Ryan mumbled, “That is the

fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Where are your
condoms?”

“In the drawer behind you.”
Ryan released him just long enough to get the condom. In

the meantime, Morgan located the bottle of lube where it’d
been left on the edge of the mattress during their first round

Charlie Richards

of fucking. He waved it over his shoulder as he listened to
the rustle of a condom being put on. Ryan took the lube,
then the cap clicked.

Morgan felt Ryan’s cock slide between his cheeks, then

press against his hole. As he pushed inside him, Morgan
hissed at the intense burn.

“Easy,” Ryan murmured. He reached around and gripped

Morgan’s flagging erection. His slicked fingers glided up his
prick to the head, then began playing with his foreskin,
moving it back and forth across his sensitive head. “Never
seen an uncircumcised cock,” he whispered into Morgan’s
ear. “Different.”

The burn quickly turned to tingling bliss. Morgan

hummed and rocked between Ryan’s hand and his cock.
“Got a perk or two,” he mumbled, pleasure once again
loosening his tongue.

Ryan bottomed out. “Like what?” he asked softly, a

throaty growl filling his voice.

“Docking.” Morgan hissed a bit as Ryan started to move.
Grunting, his prick sliding along Morgan’s sensitive inner

walls, Ryan muttered, “Don’t know what that is, but if it’s as
amazing as fucking you, you’ll have to show me some time.”

Morgan didn’t have a suitable answer to that, since there

was no way he’d dock with a self-professed player like
Ryan. He’d have to be in a committed relationship…and he
knew he’d never have that with this bi-curious man who
wouldn’t admit it. Fortunately, then the man started moving
in a slow steady rhythm and he didn’t have to come up with
a coherent answer.

Instead, the room was filled with grunts of pleasure,

babbled words, the slap of flesh, and the sounds and scents
of masculine pleasure.

“So, who had you smiling at work today?”

Lifting Techniques

Morgan scowled at the wall as he listened to Donna’s

question. He’d hoped by using the side door to leave the
hospital that evening, he wouldn’t have to have this
conversation. As it was, he’d barely made it home before his
cell phone had rung. If he didn’t know that Donna would
just keep calling and calling, he’d have ignored it.

Deciding being blunt would get him off the phone the

fastest…because most of what he’d thought about at work
was how quickly he could get home and finally have that
relaxing bath, he stated, “I grin like that when I just had a
great fuck, but you already knew that.”

Morgan couldn’t help but grin at the several seconds of

silence his comment caused. He just about dropped the wine
glass he’d pulled from the cupboard when Donna finally
screeched, “Really? Who is he? Are you seeing him again?
Who is he?”

“You asked that twice,” Morgan pointed out, setting the

glass down and turning to the refrigerator. He pulled out a
bottle of white wine he’d opened over the weekend.

“Well, I wanted to make certain you heard me,” Donna

replied. “So, spill. Who, when, where, etc.”

Sighing, Morgan filled his wineglass. “I met him at the

Halloween party last weekend. He’s bisexual, in the closet,
and I’m not telling you who he is. You know I respect
people’s privacy,” he finished, picking up his wine and
heading upstairs to the master suite.

As he crossed the room—steadfastly ignoring the bed

where he’d gotten so much pleasure yesterday…then woken
up alone that morning—he listened to Donna’s concerned,
“Oh, Morgan. Why do you do this to yourself?”

Morgan placed the wine on the side of the garden tub. “It

was just a fuck,” he stated firmly. “That’s all.”

“You don’t do casual, remember?” Donna pointed out.

Charlie Richards

“I’m never seeing him again,” Morgan insisted. “He

came, we fucked, and now he’s gone. It was a one night
stand. Stop worrying,” he snapped, already tired of
justifying his choice to indulge in Ryan’s big dick. His ass
clenched as he bent over and turned on the water.

Yep, totally worth it.
“Okay,” Donna replied. “I hear the water running, so I’ll

make this quick.” Her tone took on an irritated quality, but
Morgan didn’t care. Running the bath was a great way to get
her off the phone. It always had been. “The Halloween party
Saturday has been cancelled, so I found a club that’s letting
people in for half price if they’re in costume. We’ll go there
instead.”

Morgan felt relieved at the news. Since he’d been picking

up a couple of extra shifts at the hospital, he really just
wanted to decompress. “You know, that’s actually good
news. I’m just gonna stay home. I’m kinda tired.”

“Tired.” Donna scoffed. “You mean you’re going to stay

up all night playing your video games.”

“It’s not a video game, and yes,” Morgan snapped back.

He’d explained more than once that what he played was an
online role-playing game, but Donna didn’t care. She called
it a video game to irritate him. “I’m going to sit on my ass,
join a party with a few of my online buddies, and kill
monsters and bad guys. It’ll be great.”

Knowing a rant was coming—like how he’d be so much

more relaxed if he found some hot stud to fuck him—
Morgan put the phone on the counter and stripped. When he
finally picked up his phone again, Donna was yelling,
“Morgan, are you even listening?”

“Nope,” Morgan replied glibly. “I’ll talk to you

tomorrow. It’s tub time now.”

Donna heaved a put-upon sigh so loud, it came through

the phone clearly. “Fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.”

Lifting Techniques

Morgan said his own good-bye, then disconnected the

phone and set it down on the counter. He knew the
conversation wasn’t over, but as he sank into the hot water
and took a sip of his wine, he rested his head against the side
of the tub and couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Charlie Richards

Chapter Nine

yan rubbed the back of his neck as he surveyed the
crime scene. “This guy’s killed four men in four weeks,

Carl,” he murmured. “If we don’t find him damn fast, our
asses are going to be on the line.”

Carl grunted and cut him a hard look. “As are the lives of

every gay man in this town,” he snapped.

Feeling his face flush, Ryan sighed and looked away from

his friend. “That’s not how I meant it,” he said. “It’s been
years since we’ve seen a spree like this.”

Sighing, Carl settled his hand on his shoulder and

squeezed. “I know. I got a call from Chad,” he told him,
referencing their station’s technical guru. “He says he’s
figured out which site these guys all used and wants to talk
to us about it.”

Relief filled him at the subject change. The second Carl

had mentioned that gay men were in danger, his thoughts
had immediately turned to Morgan, and his chest had
tightened uncomfortably. His fingers had itched to pull out
his phone and dial the number he’d stolen from his one
night stand’s phone so he could check up on him.

Except, that was all it had been, right? A one night stand?

After fucking Morgan a second time, they’d fallen back to
sleep. Ryan had awakened in the wee hours of the morning
and slipped out. He’d seen Morgan’s phone on the
nightstand after dressing and, on impulse, Ryan had swiped
his number.

Lifting Techniques

Ryan had fucked him twice and still couldn’t get Morgan

out of his mind. Damn if he could remember the last time
he’d enjoyed the second fuck—which had been slow and
intense—even better than the first fuck with a girl. There
was the whole crux of the problem, though. Morgan wasn’t
a girl, but a guy…a fucking sexy guy with blue bedroom
eyes, a potty mouth of sin, and a bubble butt made for
fucking.

Ryan’s prick plumped in his jeans just thinking about it.
“Hey! You coming?”
Carl’s yelled words yanked Ryan out of his thoughts.

Damn it! Why am I so obsessed with this guy? Fucking him

was supposed to get him out of my system!

Growling under his breath at the ridiculousness of it all—

hell, no woman had captivated him like this since—he didn’t
want to think about Audrey. Ryan took the steps two at a
time. Reaching the bottom, he paused and turned to look
behind him at the home where so much violence and
destruction had happened.

From the outside, no one would know that behind the

flower filled window boxes and carefully painted porch
railings, someone had been brutally murdered.

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat as, once again, Morgan’s face

pushed into his mind, this time covered in blood, his blue
eyes vacant in death. Fucking hell! Turning away from the
home where he knew the forensic team was processing yet
another body, Ryan scowled as he stalked down the walk to
Carl’s sedan.

Carl already waited inside the vehicle. As Ryan slid into

the passenger seat, the other detective glanced his way.
Then, he focused on Ryan fully. “Damn, Ry,” Carl
murmured. “You’ve been out of sorts for the last two days.
What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Just drive,” Ryan snapped.

Charlie Richards

Even as Carl obeyed, he continued to glance Ryan’s way.

Once they were away from the crime scene, he softly asked,
“Is this because of Morgan? Are you still obsessing about
him? I thought you were going to see him Friday.”

“I did,” Ryan snapped.
Carl’s brows shot up, his expression surprised. “Oh, did

he, uh…turn you down?” he hazarded softly.

Ryan narrowed his eyes and sneered at his friend. “Of

course not. I fucked him harder than I ever would have a
woman,” he admitted gruffly. “He and his ass begged for it.
God, it was so fucking hot.” He reached down and adjusted
himself. “Then I passed out, woke up, and fucked him slow
and easy.” Not wanting to admit how that had been just as
amazing, he cut a sharp look his friend’s way and asked,
“What’s docking?”

The car swerved wildly for a second, forcing Ryan to grab

the oh shit handle. When the vehicle straightened, he glared
at the other detective. “What the fuck, man?”

Carl turned the vehicle into a parking lot and slid the car

into a space near the road and far from everyone else. He
turned in his seat and gaped at Ryan. Suddenly, Ryan
realized just how flushed his friend appeared. Remembering
that he’d heard the term while fucking Morgan, Ryan felt his
own face heat.

“Shit. It’s sexual, isn’t it?” Ryan mumbled, rubbing a hand

over his beard.

While Ryan had never been shy about sex, he’d never

discussed it with Carl before, either. That kind of shit was
reserved for teenagers. Even in the station locker room, Ryan
was known as the gentleman’s ladies man. It was a
reputation he’d worked hard to cultivate.

“It’s, uh, well, I’ve never done it,” Carl admitted, turning

back to face the wheel. His hands at ten and two, his
knuckles white, betraying the strength of his hold on the

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device, he stared straight ahead as he blurted, running his
words together, “It’s where an uncircumcised man pulls his
foreskin over the head of a circumcised guy’s cockhead and
they rut against each other.”

Ryan scowled, trying to slow those words down in his

mind enough for him to understand. When he finally
figured it out, his brows shot up and he gaped at his friend.

Carl shrugged, evidently having caught Ryan’s

expression even though he still stared straight ahead. “It’s
supposed to be pleasurable. Never done it. Vincent is the
only guy I’ve ever been with and he’s not, uh—”

“Uncircumcised,” Ryan whispered, finishing Carl’s

sentence. Yep, that was more than he needed to know about
his friend’s sex life. He cleared his throat, then nodded
slowly. “Right, uh, thanks for the info.”

Sighing, Carl closed his eyes. From having worked with

the man for so long, Ryan knew he was counting to
ten...Carl’s way of calming down and getting his thoughts in
order. When Carl turned to face him, he asked, “So, uh, you
fucked Morgan, and he’s not out of your system?”

Ryan shook his head.
“That’s, uh, unexpected.”
Nodding, Ryan knew that Carl understood the

significance.

“Not since Audrey, right?”
Ryan sighed and nodded again. “Yeah.” He grimaced.

“Not since Audrey.” Just saying her name left a bitter taste
in his mouth.

“I know I’ve told you before,” Carl softly stated. “But not

all women married to cops step out on them. Look at
Captain Pascone. He and his wife have been married over
thirty years.”

Scoffing, Ryan nodded. “I know. I just…don’t see the

point. I’m happy—”

Charlie Richards

“Except you’re not,” Carl cut in. “You’re obsessing over

someone. Why don’t you enjoy each other while the
attraction is mutual? It’s not like anyone else needs to know
who you’re fucking. As long as you’re upfront about your
commitment issues, that you don’t do relationships, or
whatever.” Carl smirked and winked at him. “Be honest
with him if you consider yourself bi-in-the-closet or gay-for-
him or whatever shit you want to call it. Just be up front, be
honest, and if Morgan’s okay with that, fuck like bunnies
until you don’t want to anymore.”

Ryan could admit, at least to himself, that the idea

sounded damn fantastic. No fear of pregnancy. No PMS. No
strings attached sex. Would Morgan go for it? As Ryan
wondered, he realized he’d be willing to stick his neck out
and ask.

For a guy? Fuck! Why?
Sighing, realizing he didn’t really have a good answer—

not one he wanted to admit, anyway, even to himself—Ryan
waved toward the road. “Let’s go see what Chad found.”

For a second, Carl just continued to stare at him. Then, he

grunted and put the car in gear, once more getting them
moving. The pair remained silent for the next ten minutes
while Carl drove them to the station.

Ryan should have known better than to think his friend

had dropped the subject. Once Carl parked the car and
turned off the engine, he reached over and grabbed Ryan’s
wrist, stopping him from exiting the vehicle. After a quick
look around, Carl offered, “Consider bringing him to our
Halloween party Saturday night. It’s just us friends, no one
will judge, no one to impress. Just us guys doing what we do
almost every weekend. Drinking beer, grilling burgers and
steaks, except we’ll be in costume. Bring Morgan,” he urged.
“Hang out. Hell, maybe if you actually talk to him, like
Wendy drives you nuts, you’ll figure out you hate him. No
stress involved.”

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Snorting, Ryan narrowed his eyes at Carl. “Really? And

have everyone there assuming I’m now gay? How the hell is
that stress free?”

Carl rolled his eyes. “The only ones who’ll know you’re

fucking him is me and Vincent,” he snapped. “You think
we’ll say something?”

Ryan knew there really was only one answer. “No.” He

believed it, too.

“Good,” Carl continued. “The others won’t know unless

you say something or decide to make out with him in front
of us.”

“I’ll ask him.”
The words were out of Ryan’s mouth before he even

thought. Holy shit! Was he really doing this? Was he really
going to ask Morgan to go to a Halloween party with him?
Remembering the amazing Marilyn Monroe costume the
sexy blond had worn when he first met him, Ryan just knew
Morgan would love that.

“You will?”
Ryan met Carl’s shocked gaze and smiled. “Yeah. I

think…I think it’ll be good. I can’t get Morgan out of my
head. If he were a woman, I’d be obsessing over whether or
not I could trust her. Instead, I’m fixated on the fact that he
has a dick.” Remembering his own encouragement when
Carl had taken up with Vincent, Ryan grimaced. “Hell,” he
mumbled. “That just makes me an ass, considering my
encouragement to you.”

Carl smirked. He released his wrist and slapped him on

the shoulder. “Yep. Now let’s go.”

Pushing the door open, Ryan followed his partner into the

precinct. He nodded absently at Serine, who sat behind the
reception desk. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he
recognized the friendly smile she sent his way. Ryan also
acknowledged that if he weren’t so messed up about

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Morgan, he probably would have spared her a flirty smile
and comment, just to making the aging woman’s day.

Fortunately, Ryan followed Carl down the stairs one floor

and into Chad’s office, giving him an excuse to think about
something, anything, else. Work was good. “So, what do you
have for us, Chad?” Ryan asked, determined to get his mind
on something productive.

“And hello to you, too, Detective Straton,” Chad quipped,

his grin nearly covering his entire narrow face. “Some sweet
thing got your panties in a twist?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes and snapped, “Yeah, a killer.

Now what the fuck ya got?”

Chad’s brows shot up at Ryan’s irritated snarl. He lifted a

hand in placation as he said, “Okay, okay. Take a look at
this.” He then turned around and pointed at his screen and a
short list of characters. “This is a list of our victim’s IDs in
the game. Now, the game’s administration wasn’t too
forthcoming, so I hacked into their network and pulled
transcripts of the player’s chats.”

“We didn’t hear that part,” Carl mumbled.
“Pansy ass,” Chad teased, smirking.
“Watch it,” Ryan snapped.
Chad cocked his head, his eyes rounding. “I didn’t mean

it like—” He paused and scowled. “Damn, you’re touchy
today. Anyway!” He turned back to the screen and pointed
at a second list about the same length. “The vics primarily
interacted with these characters, here.” Then, he pointed to a
third list. “They also interacted with these names here.”

Ryan stared at the nearly two dozen names…well, log-in

names. Who the hell—

“Can you find out who uses these log-in names?” Carl

asked.

“Since I knew how important that would be to you fine

gentlemen,” Chad said, then paused and scowled at Ryan.

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“Well, one of you is a gentleman,” he mumbled. Before Ryan
could snap at him, again, Chad held up a sheet of paper.
“I’ve already started. Here are the names, addresses, and
phone numbers of the first ten. The other dozen have
firewalls and networks that will take me a bit longer to hack,
but don’t worry.” He winked. “I’ll get it done.”

“Thanks,” Carl said, taking the sheet of information.

“You’re the best.” He slapped the man on the shoulder
before turning away and heading out of the room.

Ryan started to turn and follow, then paused and looked

at Chad. “Sorry I snapped at ya, man,” he mumbled. Damn,
when was the last time he’d had to apologize? He was
known as the happy-go-lucky guy. “This case, it’s—” He
shook his head and sighed. “Some of the stuff the bastard
does to these guys. It’s just…wrong.” God that sounded
inadequate.

“No worries, Detective,” Chad responded. He gave him a

sympathetic smile. “Just from what some guys have said
around the place…damn. I can’t imagine seeing that once,
let alone several times.”

Nodding absently, more than willing to take that as his

excuse, Ryan muttered, “Thanks, man. And thanks for the
info. We couldn’t do this without you.”

“Awe, love you, too, big man,” Chad quipped. “Now get

the hell out of here. I got work to do.”

Ryan rolled his eyes as he turned away. For good

measure, he growled low in his throat. As he closed the
door, he heard Chad laugh. He shook his head, then found
Carl waiting for him a few feet away.

Carl held up the list. “Let’s start making calls and setting

up appointments.”

“What do you want to tell them we’re calling about?”

Ryan asked. He was a big believer in always having his story
straight. He didn’t out and out lie to a potential suspect

Charlie Richards

unless he had to. One never knew when an officer’s
testimony might be needed in a trial, and lies to a suspect
never went over well.

“The truth,” Carl replied, leading the way to their desks.

“We want to talk to them about their online experiences with
a fellow gamer.”

Ryan nodded. “Works for me.”

After half a dozen calls, in all of which he’d been forced to

leave messages, Ryan tossed down his pen and rubbed over
his eyes. “Nothing. Any luck with yours?”

“One,” Carl replied. “Let’s go.” As he put on his coat he

stated, “You ought to grab your stuff. After this, we’ll call it
a day.”

Ryan looked at his friend. He spotted the tell-tale flicker

of his eyelids, telling him that his friend had something else
on his mind. “Okay,” he replied, curious. He grabbed his
leather jacket, helmet, and keys.

“When you switching to the jeep?” Carl asked curiously,

looking at the helmet he carried.

Shrugging, Ryan replied, “When it gets cold.”
Carl chuckled. “So, when it rains seven days a week,

twenty-four hours a day.”

“Yep.”

Just over two hours later, Ryan knew why Carl had urged

him to bring his shit. While he felt certain that Carl was
headed home to his family, and Vincent—if the firefighter
wasn’t on duty—Ryan found himself parking in the
motorcycle section in front of the hospital.

As the sun began to set, Ryan swung off his motorcycle,

hooked his helmet to the lock at the back of the bike, and
strode inside the building. He headed straight to the front
desk, grateful there wasn’t a line, and held up his badge.

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“Is Doctor Pruitt working this evening?”
While Ryan knew where Morgan lived, he’d figured—

being a work-a-holic doctor who picked up extra shifts in the
emergency room—this was the better bet.

“Oh, yes, officer,” the nurse replied. “He’s here

somewhere. Let me check where he’s at.” She smiled and
turned away to pound at the keys of her computer. “Oh, he’s
in surgery right now,” she said, looking at him
apologetically.

Ryan nodded. “Any idea how long it’ll be?”
Nibbling her lip and looking back at her screen, Nurse

Julie—from her nametag—shook her head. “Sorry. Do you
want me to call down and ask?”

Shaking his head, Ryan told her. “No. That’s fine. I’m

gonna get some coffee and a bite to eat in the cafeteria,” he
told her. Giving her a wry smile, he winked. “We all gotta
get our meals when we can, eh?”

Nodding sympathetically, Julie replied, “Ain’t that the

truth.”

“Just call me when he goes on break and let me know

which break room he’ll be in, okay?” Ryan slid his card
across the counter and smiled. “It’s unofficial and will only
take a minute. I promise.”

Julie beamed up at him. “Okay.”

Charlie Richards

Chapter Ten

organ groaned as he pulled off the latex gloves. His
back ached from spending nearly two hours bent over

his patient, piecing together what was left of her spleen and
right hip. The woman would always walk with a limp, but at
least she’d walk again.

That was more than Morgan could say for the other

person in the accident. A drunk driver ran a stop sign and t-
boned another vehicle. As Fate would have it—or maybe
instant karma, Morgan thought irritably—the drunk was
driving a sedan and had hit a woman in a quad-cab pick-up.

Bastard.
The guy would be lucky to regain use of his right leg. His

left leg, on the other hand, had needed to be amputated from
the knee down. Morgan hoped the man got his act together
while going through rehab.

Pushing those thoughts away—well, after making a

mental note to check on both of them in an hour or so—
Morgan dropped his gloves into a biohazard bag, along with
his cap and gown. Then he scrubbed down thoroughly.
Finally, he called down to Julie at the front desk, praying
there wasn’t anything pressing and he could take five
minutes for coffee.

“Oh, yeah, doc,” Julie quickly replied. “You take

ten…hell, take twenty. After two hours on like that, you
totally need it.”

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“Thanks,” Morgan murmured, relieved. He started to

hang up the phone.

“Hey! You gonna be in the break room on the second

floor again?”

Morgan put the phone back to his ear. “Yeah,” he replied,

frowning. “You need something?”

“Nope,” she replied, way too cheerily. “Just wanna know

where to find you if I need you.”

Grunting, Morgan didn’t wait for anything else from the

too-perky nurse. He hung up the wall phone and headed out
of the clean room. Morgan strode as swiftly as his tired body
could manage toward the break room he’d specified. As he
pushed the door of the break room open, he lifted his free
hand to his mouth and struggled to contain his yawn.

Yep, a twenty minute power nap sounds perfect.
Morgan fished his cell phone out of his back pocket and

began swiping through the screens, quickly setting an alarm.
Suddenly, the smell of coffee laden with a hefty amount of
cream and sugar caught his attention. He returned his phone
to his back pocket and looked toward the counter...and his
eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Ryan?”
Morgan would have hated the breathy gasp in his voice,

but then the detective gave him a lop-sided smile and he
nearly swallowed his tongue at the sexy sight. Except, the
corners of Ryan’s eyes didn’t wrinkle, betraying that the
man didn’t feel true mirth. Morgan realized the man wanted
to appear confident, but felt anything but.

What is he doing here?
“Hey, Morgan,” Ryan greeted softly, pushing away from

the counter. He strode slowly toward him, offering the mug
of bitter liquid energy before him. “Heard you had a tough
couple of hours. Coffee?”

Taking the cup, Morgan nodded. “Thanks,” he

whispered, feeling confused at seeing the detective there.

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100

After their second fuck—which had been slow and sexy and
so very fulfilling that Morgan’s prick still thickened to half-
mast just thinking about it—Ryan had left and Morgan
hadn’t heard from him since. Morgan hadn’t thought he’d
ever see him again. “What are you doing here?” he asked
softly.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Ryan admitted, stepping

even closer. Their bodies remained separated only by the
mug of coffee. He cupped Morgan’s jaw gently and tipped
his head a bit. After an instant, he pressed a soft butterfly
kiss to Morgan’s mouth. Lifting his head, Ryan sighed. “You
and your god-damned lips. How can a man have such sexy
lips?”

Ryan didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he lowered his

mouth the rest of the way and sealed his mouth over
Morgan’s own. He licked his way into Morgan’s mouth,
tasting him, opening him, then sucking his tongue into
Ryan’s mouth. Ryan wasted no time sweeping his own
appendage deep, mapping the kiss.

After a few seconds, Ryan lifted his head. He stared at

Morgan’s face, his expression inscrutable. “Come and sit,”
he urged, taking his hand. “Nurse Julie says your time off is
short, so I’ll be quick, so you can relax.”

Morgan allowed Ryan to peck one more kiss to his lips,

then the detective backed away from him, grabbing his
elbow as he moved. Ryan urged Morgan to the nearby sofa.
“Sit, doc,” he urged. “Drink your coffee.”

Nodding, Morgan did as he was told. To his surprise,

instead of releasing him when he sat, Ryan moved his grip
to his shoulders as he positioned himself behind the piece of
furniture. Gripping Morgan’s shoulders, Ryan started to
gently knead his shoulders.

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101

Unable to help himself, Morgan whimpered softly. He

lowered his chin to his chest and let out a long sigh. “Holy
shit,” he mumbled. “Wow.”

“I’m pretty good with my hands, aren’t I?” Ryan crooned

into his ear, leaning close. “In more ways than one.”

Panting, Morgan could hardly gather a thought in his

head. “Y-Yes,” he mumbled. After several minutes of pure,
unadulterated enjoyment, he finally dragged his mind out of
the pleasure enough to asked, “So, uh, what are you doing
here?”

Ryan hadn’t really answered the question earlier.
Still leaning over him, Ryan whispered, “When I arrived

here, I had every intention of tracking you down and finding
out if you really wore a plug to work like you said.” He
moved his hands slowly up Morgan’s neck, his thumbs
rolling over the tendons, massaging them. “I planned to
press your chest against the door, so no one could come in,
then push those scrubs over your ass and search for that
plug.”

Morgan moaned, a combination of the man’s amazing

massage and his words. “I-I’m not wearing one, but—” Ryan
dug his thumbs into the base of his skull, causing him to
grunt in painful bliss. “Ugh, I could, though…if I knew you
were going to drop by.” Damn, had he just offered that?

“Then how about tomorrow, Doctor,” Ryan growled into

his ear. “How about tomorrow I come back here and find
you. Then, instead of massaging you into a puddle of bliss, I
fuck you into oblivion.”

Groaning, Morgan felt his cock throb to aching arousal in

his scrubs. He just knew if Ryan kept massaging him and
whispering words like that into his ear, he’d come. “St-stop,”
he pleaded, because as much as he wanted that to happen,
blowing in his scrubs would make for a very uncomfortable
rest of the day.

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102

“Why?” Ryan purred, his warm breath tickling the

sensitive skin behind Morgan’s ear. “I see your rod tenting
the crotch of your pants. You’re hard as a rock at the idea.
Why should I stop?”

Morgan hissed and pressed the heel of his palm to his

prick, trying to stem his aching need to get off. “Because I
don’t-don’t want to, ugh—”

“Get off in your pants?” Ryan asked softly.
“Y-Yeah,” Morgan mumbled, uncertain how Ryan knew

what he’d been thinking. Maybe it was a cop thing.
“Uncomfortable.”

“Sexy,” Ryan countered. “That my touch and voice would

do that to you.”

Still, Ryan released Morgan’s neck. He wasn’t proud of it,

but Morgan let out a soft whine of protest, even though it’d
been his request. A second later, Ryan’s hand appeared over
his shoulder, holding a handkerchief.

“Blue balls are just as uncomfortable,” Ryan huskily

pointed out, returning his other hand to Morgan’s shoulder.
“Take the handkerchief and do as I say.”

Morgan reached for the handkerchief, his gaze sliding to

the door uncertainly.

“Don’t worry. I’m watching the door,” Ryan told him. “I

won’t have you exposed to others. Besides,” he added,
licking the sensitive patch behind Morgan’s ear. “I got a
funny feeling that this won’t take long.” He blew across the
now damp skin to accentuate the point.

Nodding, Morgan took the square of fabric and lowered it

to the waist of his scrubs.

“That’s it,” Ryan urged. “Slide down your waistband and

pull out your cock.”

Unable to resist Ryan’s instructions…or the ache in his

balls, Morgan obeyed. He pulled out his prick and tucked
the elastic band under his testicles.

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103

“Now position the cloth near the head so it’ll catch your

cum,” Ryan ordered, before softly adding, “God, look at
your swollen nuts. You’re ready to blow, aren’t you?”

Morgan wrapped his hand around both the handkerchief

and his prick, bunching it under his head. He shivered at the
feel of his own touch, uncertain if it felt better because he
already ached or because he knew Ryan was watching him.
Either way, he shuddered, his prick twitching in his grip.

“That’s it,” Ryan urged. “Now stroke yourself. I want to

see your foreskin pull away from that wide slit you keep
hidden. Come on, babe. One of these days I’m gonna get up
the courage to play with that little flap of skin. Would you
enjoy that?”

Morgan didn’t even have to answer. His body did it for

him. On the next down-stroke, his foreskin pulled away
from his head and a large bead of pre-cum oozed from his
slit.

Ryan growled behind him. His hands returned to

Morgan’s shoulders and began working his neck and
shoulders and upper spine, easing the knots formed by the
stress and tension of the day. He sighed, pleasure singing
through his system as he eased into Ryan’s touch and sped
up his own strokes.

“You don’t have long,” Ryan purred. He nipped

Morgan’s ear. “Let me see you let go. Tighten your hold.”

Morgan obeyed.
“Now dip your fingernail into your slit.”
Again, Morgan did as he was told. On the next upstroke,

he slid his fingernail along his head and dipped it into his
slit. A shudder racked his body hard. Then, he pulled his
finger away and continued to jack himself.

“Again,” Ryan demanded. “Come.”

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104

Once more, Morgan slid his fingertip into his slit, just as

Ryan had urged. Ryan lapped at Morgan’s ear, then sucked
the lobe lightly.

“Oh, my god!” Morgan just managed to keep from

screaming the words. He barely remembered to move the
handkerchief to cover his cock’s head when the first stream
squirted for his prick. “Oh.”

“That’s the way,” Ryan soothed, his massage softening to

rubbing circles at the base of his neck. “Feel better?”

Morgan groaned almost numbly as the bliss of orgasm

hummed through his body. “Ryan,” he whispered. “Holy
shit.”

Ryan chuckled, then kissed his neck. His touch softened.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I gotta say, Carl was right.”

“About what?” Morgan asked absently, struggling to

follow the other man’s words.

“I mean, he said it was a hell of a lot easier to tell if a man

was enjoying something than a woman,” Ryan said,
glancing pointedly at the now soiled handkerchief. “Some
things can’t be faked.”

Morgan snickered. “I, uh, I wouldn’t know.”
Ryan smoothed his hands up and down Morgan’s

shoulders, neck, and upper arms. “Never been with a
woman?”

“Uh, no. I’ve known I was gay since I was thirteen,”

Morgan whispered. “Been out since I was fifteen.”

When Ryan pulled his hands away and started striding

swiftly around the sofa, Morgan thought he’d gone too
far…said too much. Then, he heard the squeak of door
hinges and the tap-tap of shoes. Just that fast, Ryan stood
between Morgan and the door. His dark eyes burned with
warmth, a smile creased his bearded lips, and he waved a
hand toward Morgan’s groin.

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105

Quickly, Morgan moved to obey the unspoken

commanded. He wiped his dick in one smooth stroke and
shoved himself back into his underwear and scrubs.

As Morgan did that, Ryan asked, “So, I thought that

would interest you. A Halloween party at my buddy’s on
Friday.”

“Um, sure,” Morgan murmured automatically. “If you

don’t mind if I ask Doctor Rysling and her boyfriend to
come. She’d never forgive me for getting the chance to dress
up and not inviting her.”

“Of course,” Ryan replied instantly. “I’ll call you with the

details.”

Morgan nodded. “Uh, yeah, perfect.” He didn’t want to

ask when Ryan had gotten his phone number. He was a
detective, so he could look him up at any time, right? “I get
off at eight or so.” He smiled wryly. “As long as no
emergencies run long.”

Ryan nodded in obvious understanding. “I know how

that goes.” He winked. “A cop never knows when he’ll be
called away.”

“Right,” Morgan murmured. He cleared his throat,

getting himself in order. “So, call me,” he said. Yanking his
gaze away from Ryan’s dark, entirely too knowing gaze, he
picked up his long-forgotten cup of coffee. “I’ll talk to you
about it then.”

After Ryan nodded and headed toward the door, Morgan

lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip. He took that
opportunity to peer around the room. Managing to just stifle
a groan, this time one of frustration, he spotted Marian at the
counter fixing herself a cup of coffee.

When she turned around and said, “Hey, Morgan. Looks

like you could use a date to a Halloween party. I’m free on
Friday,” Morgan felt grateful his coffee was now cold,

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106

because it was the fastest he’d ever drank a cup and
returned to duty.

Morgan couldn’t believe he was actually here.
When Ryan had followed through and called him earlier

in the week, Morgan had really thought it was to blow him
off…tell him his comment about a Halloween party was
bogus. Instead, he’d confirmed that it was an actual
invitation and that Ryan wanted to take him.

Of course, when Morgan had suggested his costume

ideas, he thought Ryan would kibosh it immediately. Hell,
telling a fuck buddy to grow out his beard as much as
possible for five days was really, really pushing it. Not to
mention, he wasn’t even certain they were even fuck
buddies.

Morgan had listened to a long, long pause, then a drawn-

out why? After giving a long-winded explanation of how
neither of them would make a believable Thor, but they
could be two parts of the warriors three, Morgan had gotten
a clearly confused huh from Ryan. He’d then explained that
Ryan could dress as the bearded Viking-like man, Volstagg,
and Morgan would dress as the swashbuckling Fandral.

It took some convincing, especially since he had to

explain who those people were. Once he’d confirmed that
Ryan had indeed seen the movie Thor, he’d explained. To his
surprise, Ryan had laughed softly and said, “You’re the
expert. Whatever you want.”

Then, Morgan had worked with Donna, who’d convinced

her boyfriend to dye his hair blond. She and Mitch were Sif
and Thor.

Morgan had ordered Ryan to arrive thirty minutes early.

Then, Ryan had actually done it! Still, Morgan had been
impressed that—while obviously amused, considering his
smirks—he’d allowed him to order him into an outfit,

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followed up by Morgan using a small brush to stroke in
some deep red highlights into his hair.

Now, Morgan strode up the walk with Ryan to attend a

Halloween party at the home of his partner on the force. He
knew they were only going as friends, not as an actual
couple, but Morgan couldn’t help but feel a bit of hope surge
in his chest…not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

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Chapter Eleven

yan settled into the passenger seat of Carl’s sedan.
“Who are we visiting this morning?” he asked around a

yawn.

Smirking, Carl swept his gaze over him. “Late night?” he

teased.

Glaring at the other man, Ryan replied, “As if you didn’t

know.”

It’d been nearly midnight when the Halloween party had

broken up the evening before. By the time Ryan had reached
Morgan’s place, he’d been beyond sacked. Evidently,
Morgan had known it, for he had asked if Ryan wanted to
crash at his place. Ryan had gratefully accepted and, after
washing up and wrapping himself around the smaller man,
had conked out almost immediately.

Ryan couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept with

someone and not fucked.

“You know, you still have a bit of red in your beard,” Carl

teased. “You gonna keep it grown out like that?”

“No,” Ryan replied. “It itches too damn much.” He

rubbed his chin as he spoke. “Once I get home this evening,
I’ll trim it back up.”

“Didn’t go home last night?”
Cutting a look Carl’s way before rubbing his hand over

my eyes, Ryan muttered, “No.”

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“Had a good night then, huh?” Carl gave him a cheeky

grin. “I can’t believe Morgan talked you into dressing up
with all of them. You all made a great Thor and his friends.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said. “It wasn’t like I had to do much. He

put it all together. All I had to do was show up and put it
on.”

Carl turned the vehicle into the driveway of an apartment

complex. “Well, I’ve never seen you dress up more than
some store bought costume. You, uh…like him?”

“We’ve only been fucking for a week or so,” Ryan

grumbled. “What kind of question is that?”

Brows shooting up, Carl shrugged. “Sorry, man. I

just…you seemed pretty happy this past week. I thought
you were getting along.” He parked the vehicle and killed
the engine. “How many interviews do we have today?”

“Three,” Ryan replied, grateful his partner always knew

when to leave a subject alone. “Two before lunch, one after.”
After climbing from the car, he pushed the door closed.
“Seems no one wants to meet with cops on a Saturday
night.”

“I don’t blame them,” Carl replied. “I wouldn’t want to

either.”

Ryan pulled his Ducati up to the house and swung off of

the bike. He opened the saddlebag and pulled out a six-pack
of microbrews, settling the helmet in its place. Carrying the
beer, he strode around the side of the house, anticipating
eating the burgers he could smell.

Calling a greeting as he rounded the corner, Ryan spied

Vincent as he ended a kiss and lifted his head. The firefighter
looked Ryan’s way and waved. Then, he returned his focus
to Carl and pressed a butterfly kiss to his lips.

Instead of looking away, as Ryan normally did, he

narrowed his eyes and watched his partner accept the soft

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kiss. He had been the one to encourage his friend to go after
his heart, regardless of what other people thought. As he
watched the men separate, he remembered sitting on that
deck the evening before.

Ryan had felt an urge to kiss Morgan several times,

especially when he brought him a drink. Since Ryan had
been driving, he’d cut himself off after two beers. Morgan
had been great, supplying him with a variety of non-
alcoholic beverages from the cooler near the sliding glass
door. The only time he’d needed to get up was to piss. That
hadn’t stopped him from mingling, though.

He’d had a great time, and part of it had been because

Morgan had been so attentive. What would it be like to call
Morgan his own? Ryan placed the six-pack on one of the
tables and frowned at it. He hadn’t had thoughts like that
in…a long time.

Am I ready?
The trill of Ryan’s phone cut through his confused

thoughts. Pushing the odd ideas to the back of his mind, he
yanked the phone from the holder and brought it to his ear.
“Detective Straton.”

“Detective, this is Officer Melrose. There’s been another

attack.”

Growling, Ryan snapped, “Son of a bitch. Where? When?

Do you know who the vic is?”

“Well, it seems to have been broken up,” Melrose

continued. “While he’s alive, he’s in pretty bad shape. Cut
with a knife, same as the others, and this time in the hospital
parking garage, which was pretty lucky because he’s already
in surgery.”

As Melrose spoke, Ryan waved at Carl, motioning him

over.

“It looks like a nurse was walking to her car and heard

the man’s cries. She didn’t recognize the guy who ran off,

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but maybe the victim did,” Melrose stated. “He should be
out of surgery within the hour.”

“That’s something, at least,” Ryan replied. Maybe he and

Carl wouldn’t need to interview the rest of the dozen or so
people on their list. “What’s the guy’s name?”

“Uh, Doctor Pruitt. He’s a resident physician there.”
“Doctor Pruitt?” Ryan whispered, his blood freezing in

his veins, causing a cold sweat to pop up along the skin of
his arms. “Morgan Pruitt?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“We’ll be right there,” Ryan replied.
Without waiting for an answer, Ryan disconnected the

phone and clipped it back to his belt. He jogged back around
the house, his heart racing and his pulse pounding in his
veins. Melrose had said Morgan would be fine. He’d be out
of surgery soon. So, what was wrong with him?

Ryan yanked his helmet from the saddlebag and smashed

it onto his head, buckling it quickly. He’d just swung his leg
over and righted his bike when Carl caught up with him.
When his partner grabbed his arm, Ryan turned his head
and glared at him.

“Where are you going?” Carl asked, undeterred. His tone

entirely too calm for Ryan’s liking, he added, “What’s going
on? Do we have another crime scene? Talk to me.”

Realizing he was going off half-cocked—he couldn’t

remember the last time he’d done that—Ryan forced himself
to take a long, deep breath. It didn’t ease his racing pulse or
pounding heart, but at least he felt as if he were thinking a
bit more clearly. Well, maybe it just loosened his tongue.

“That was Officer Melrose. There was an attack at the

hospital,” Ryan told him. “Morgan’s in surgery.”

Carl’s brows furrowed, but at least he released Ryan’s

arm. “How’d he know to call you?”

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“They believe it was our guy. There was a knife involved,

but Melrose didn’t say how severely Morgan was injured.”
Ryan shook his head, hating the image of his sweet,
beautiful Morgan covered in blood. Shit, mine? Refocusing
on Carl, Ryan told him, “He’s supposed to be out of surgery
soon. I need to get down there.”

“Okay,” Carl agreed. “Why don’t you let me take you?

You’re in no condition to drive.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan declared, bringing his bike to life. “I’ll

meet you there.”

“Ryan, wait!”
Ryan ignored his partner. Spinning his tires, he sped out

of the driveway and roared down the road. He suddenly
wished he had his jeep, because at least in that beat up old
thing he could turn on his siren. Of course, everyone at the
precinct and in the local areas knew him and his motorcycle.

As Ryan drove, he finally allowed his thoughts to dwell

on that which he’d been avoiding…his panic. When he’d
heard Morgan was injured, he’d lost his cool. His one
thought was to get to the man, to see him, to confirm that he
was indeed going to be okay.

Ryan didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, but he had

to acknowledge that Morgan had gotten thoroughly under
his skin. He didn’t know how to be in a relationship
anymore. He didn’t know if Morgan even wanted that. Hell,
he didn’t know if Morgan even considered him more than a
fantastic—hopefully—fuck.

While Ryan weaved in and out of traffic, his heart

pounding and the adrenaline pumping though his system,
he knew he wanted to be. For Morgan, to have the
opportunity to hold his firm, slender body, to touch and
explore his toned muscle, to taste his lips over and over, for
the first time in over a decade, Ryan wanted to try.

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He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to convince

Morgan to try, too.

Ryan made it to the hospital in what was probably record

time. He took advantage of motorcycle parking. Climbing
from the bike, he settled his helmet on the handlebar, not
even bothering to lock it up.

Jogging, Ryan made his way across the parking lot. He

dodged moving vehicles and hopped around people
walking. As he approached the doors, he appreciated that
the woman and child in front of him activated them, so he
didn’t have to wait. He hustled around the pair and toward
the reception desk.

Unfortunately, right before Ryan reached the desk, an

older woman did first. He grimaced and shifted from foot to
foot. It took every bit of self-control he contained not to pull
his badge and push the elderly woman aside. If the woman
had been just a few years younger, Ryan knew he would
have. Finally, the woman in front of him shuffled off,
probably to have a seat in the waiting room.

Ryan held up his badge and smiled at the nurse. “I’m

Detective Straton. I need information on Doctor Morgan
Pruitt. Is he out of surgery?”

“Let me check, Detective,” the woman, Nurse Cassie,

said, turning to her computer. She hummed a moment,
clicking keys and flipping through screens. Just when Ryan
was about to growl and snap at her to hurry the fuck up, she
turned back toward him and said, “He’s just coming out of
surgery and still sedated. Do you have a card? I can call you
when he wakes.”

Scowling, Ryan gave in to his frustration and snapped,

“Give me his room number. I’ll sit in there and wait.”

“Oh.” The nurse drew back, her brows furrowing. “I

don’t think that’s—”

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“I don’t care what you think,” Ryan roared. “Morgan is

my friend. Tell me where his fucking room is!”

“Sir, you can’t use language like that in here,” the nurse

huffed, stiffening in her seat and glaring at him.

Suddenly, a hand landed on his shoulder. Ryan expected

it to be security, but when he looked left, he found Carl
standing beside him. “My apologies, Nurse Cassie,” Carl cut
in before Ryan could do something worse…like get kicked
out. “We’re in the middle of a very trying investigation and
Doctor Pruitt may hold vital information to our case. It’s a
matter of life and death. May we please know where his
room is?”

Nurse Cassie glanced between them, her eyes narrowed.

Finally, she nodded curtly. “Very well, but I expect you to
remain calm,” she chided Ryan. “I will inform the nurses
upstairs that if you’re upsetting the patient, they should kick
you out. Do you hear me?”

Ryan summoned a smile, which probably appeared more

of a grimace. Still, he managed to force out, “Thank you.”

Probably aware of just how much that had cost him,

Nurse Cassie sniffed. “Room three-seventeen, Detectives.”

As Ryan led the way down the hall, walking so fast it was

just shy of running, he wondered how much upheaval he
was about to create in his life…and he wondered if he was
ready.

“Hey,” Carl murmured, moving quickly to keep up. “You

gotta relax, man. You’re drawing attention.”

Cutting a glare toward his friend, Ryan snarled, “I’ll relax

when I’m certain my Morgan is safe and healthy.” He
thought he should be cringing at that mental slip. Instead, all
he felt was a sense of rightness.

“Your Morgan?”
“Guess it was wishful thinking that you’d miss that,” he

muttered. Just because Ryan had finally come to grips with

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it himself didn’t mean he’d been ready to tell anyone else,
yet.

Carl just gave him a questioning look.
Bypassing the elevator, knowing he wouldn’t be able to

stand still long enough to use it, Ryan pushed open the door
to the stairs. “Yes, mine,” he replied, then started bounding
up the stairs two at a time.

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Chapter Twelve

organ felt the pain as his dreams began to ebb. A high-
intensity burning radiated through his thighs and

along his right side. Groaning, he struggled to remember
what the hell had happened to him.

Thinking back, Morgan remembered finishing up his

shift. He’d waved good-bye to Cassie, the night nurse who’d
just come on shift, then headed to his car. After that…Dolan
Fleishman! Dolan must have been waiting for him in the
staff parking garage. He’d grabbed Morgan and slammed
him against a car. Too bad the vehicle was an older model
and didn’t have a car alarm.

“You fucking whore,” Dolan had snarled. “You think I

forgot you owed me that blowjob the other night?” He’d
grabbed Morgan’s jacket and shoved him up onto the hood
of the town car. His dark eyes glittered with maliciousness
as he peered down at him, his lip curled. “Instead, I saw you
with that cop. You were only so happy to get on your knees
for him.”

Morgan had gaped in shock.
Dolan sneered and reached for his belt. “Too late for that,

whore. I’m gonna take payment out of your hide, instead.”

Morgan’s first assumption, that Dolan was going to try to

force him, was proven wrong when he saw Dolan pull a
knife from a sheath at his belt. He’d snapped his jaw closed,
fear spiking through him. Acting on instinct, he’d lifted his
leg and kicked Dolan in the chest.

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The next few memories were a blur. Morgan remembered

grappling with Dolan, but the larger man easily shoved him
back against the car. Dolan came at him with the knife,
swinging and stabbing at him. Pain had flared through
Morgan as he kicked and struggled, attempting to yank and
roll away from the man.

After that…he only remembered pain and screaming.
When Morgan swallowed, his voice scratchy and sore, he

realized it must have been himself screaming. Hell,
considering the pain flaring through his body, who could
blame him. Dolan had sliced him! How had he gotten here,
then, and what had happened to Dolan? Had he left him to
die or something?

Needing answers, Morgan doubled his effort to open his

eyes. He finally managed to open them, pleased to find the
light already muted. After blinking a few times to get his
eyes to adjust, and to clear his muzzy mind of the pain, he
looked down at himself. He tried to mentally catalogue
where the lumps beneath the blankets were and correlate
them with the centers of pain radiating through his body.

Morgan knew his thighs and side throbbed. He assumed

the nurses had been waiting for him to wake to give him
something for the pain. Morgan knew he was a lightweight
when it came to drugs, so he liked to be in charge of his own
doses when it wasn’t life threatening. Which, of course,
meant he’d heal, but just how many times had Dolan struck
him, and how deep had the wounds been?

A snuffling, snorting sound caught Morgan’s attention,

drawing his gaze to the chair beside the bed. He blinked a
few times more, certain he wasn’t really seeing what he
thought he was seeing. Except, Morgan realized he was.
Ryan lay sprawled in the chair, his head at an odd angle
leaning against the wall. His mouth was open and soft
snores escaped him.

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“Wha—” Morgan started.
“Let him sleep,” another man urged softly.
Looking toward the door, Morgan found Detective Carl

Lewis leaning against the wall eyeing him. He held a cup of
coffee in one hand and the other was shoved into his jeans
pocket.

“When I heard you waking, I took the liberty of lowering

the lights,” Carl murmured. “Why do hospitals always have
the lights so bright?” he asked curiously before sipping at
his mug.

“We like to be able to see when we walk into the room,”

Morgan whispered.

Carl smirked at him. “Really? I always thought it was a

nurse’s passive aggressive way to get back at recalcitrant
patients.”

“Recalcitrant?” Morgan mumbled.
Chuckling, Carl grinned. “What would you call them?

Most people turn into such children when they’re injured.”

“Pains in the asses is normally bandied around,” Morgan

admitted softly.

Carl’s expression eased to a smile as he nodded, then he

sobered. His brows creased and he frowned. “So, how much
do you remember? Can you tell me who did this?”

“Us,” Ryan grunted, revealing that he’d woken.
Morgan looked his…fuck-buddy’s way. “Yeah,” he

admitted. “I remember everything. I was attacked by Dolan
Fleishman. He, uh, he was waiting for me in the parking
garage.” Morgan glanced toward Carl, then returned his
focus to Ryan. “He, uh, said he saw us.”

“Saw us?” Ryan pressed when Morgan paused.
Swallowing around his already dry throat, Morgan again

glanced toward Carl.

Evidently, Ryan picked up on the source of his unease. He

picked up a cup that had been on a nearby table and held it

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close to his mouth. With his free hand, he angled the straw
in the cup to his lips. “Drink. I’m sure you need it,” he
ordered.

Grateful, Morgan leaned forward and wrapped his lips

around the straw and sucked.

Ryan growled low in his throat. Hearing the noise,

Morgan lifted his gaze. He nearly choked upon seeing the
heat burning in Ryan’s eyes as the man’s focus seemed
fixated on Morgan’s lips and where they wrapped around
the straw. Gasping, Morgan barely remembered to swallow
before choking himself.

Clearing his throat, Carl said, “You said that Dolan

Fleishman did this?”

Once Morgan tore his gaze away from Ryan’s smoldering

expression, he tried to drag his thoughts together as he
looked at Carl. “Y-Yeah.” He really should not be thinking
about sex while trying to carry on a conversation with the
man’s partner. Of course, if Ryan’s look had anything to say
about it, Ryan didn’t feel the same. It just spoke of the men’s
comfort in each other’s presence.

Ryan growled, this time not a good sound. “You mean

Dolan Fleishman, the firefighter?”

“Y-Yeah,” Morgan confirmed. “He, uh, saw us, ya

know?” He didn’t want to spell it out and prayed Ryan
would put it together.

Watching the pair of men exchange a series of looks—

looks that Morgan couldn’t hope to understand but must
have been a wealth of conversation—he watched Carl push
away from the wall. “Your word is enough to bring him in,”
he said. “Ryan will finish taking your statement.” Carl
focused on Ryan. “I’ll call you once he’s located.”

Carl nodded at Morgan, saying, “I hope you feel better

soon.” When he reached the door, he paused and added,
“And I’ll let the nurse know you’ve woken.”

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“Thank you,” Morgan replied. He probably should have

asked for the nurse first thing…or at least asked for his chart,
as he was starting to feel a bit woozy from the pain. His
chart! “Will you hand me my chart, please?”

Ryan leaped to his feet and hustled to the foot of the bed.

He looked around in confusion for a few seconds, then
reached down and pulled the clipboard from its hanger and
brought it back to Morgan. Handing it over, Ryan settled
back on his chair. He used a hand between his legs to grip
the seat of the chair and pull it closer to the bed.

Leaning forward, Ryan stared down at the paperwork in

Morgan’s hands and asked, “What do I gotta do to nurse
you back to health, babe?”

“You, I, uh—” Morgan glanced between the papers, Ryan,

and back again. The man’s intense scrutiny, his continued
terms of endearment, and the way he leaned toward
Morgan—his elbows on his knees and his fingers clasped
together, as if just keeping himself from reaching for him.
Morgan wasn’t certain how to interpret his actions, so he
cleared his throat and focused on his paperwork. Except the
words blurred as one thought pushed into his mind. “Take
care of me?”

Ryan sighed and nodded. “I want to,” he whispered the

admission. “First, read your chart. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Morgan stared at him for another couple of seconds.
Sighing again, Ryan reached up and touched Morgan’s

cheek with one hand, lightly tracing his jaw line. “I think
you need some pain meds, Morgan,” he whispered. “Your
eyes are pretty dilated. Do you have a concussion? Where
were you cut?”

“Um,” Morgan mumbled. He drew his gaze away from

Ryan and focused on the chart. His eyes must have been
dilated, for he had to blink a few times to get the words to
focus properly. Finally, he whispered, “The bastard got in

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four cuts. Two on my right thigh, one on my right side, but it
was the one on my left thigh that caused the problems. It
looks like he sliced through the—” Morgan paused and
swallowed hard. “He stabbed through the muscle and they
had to put stitches inside my leg and—”

Helping others through injuries certainly didn’t prepare

him for reading and feeling them on his own body.
Morgan’s head swam and his arms felt as if they lost all
strength. Pain shooting across his side caused his eyelids—
which he hadn’t realized he’d closed—to snap back open
again.

“Hey, easy,” Ryan murmured. “You’ve pushed yourself

too hard already.” He smiled ruefully as he took the chart
from where it rested on Morgan’s stomach. Evidently, he’d
dropped it on himself, which had caused the spike of pain.
“You do that again,” Ryan continued, redrawing his
attention, “and you’re going to get me kicked out of here.”

“Sorry,” Morgan whispered. He closed his eyes to half-

mast and relaxed on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

Ryan snorted softly. “You mean beyond the obvious?

Someone I care about is in the hospital?”

Morgan grunted, hoping that would be enough of a

confirmation. With the fatigue washing over him, he really
was too tired to respond.

Rubbing his palms over his knees, Ryan peered at him

with a chagrined expression on his face as he told him, “I
can count on one hand how many people I would drop
everything for and break speed-limit laws to reach in the
hospital.” He leaned forward and held Morgan’s gaze. “I
can’t tell you when or how you got under my skin, Morgan,
but you have. You’re special to me. I know you’re injured
and this is a horrible time, but I wanted you to know that.”

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Morgan opened his mouth to answer, but before his

befuddled mind could come up with something, a nurse
walked into the room.

Awe shit! Fate hates me.
“Hello, Morgan,” Nurse Marian Seeger greeted perkily.

“How are you feeling this evening?” She looked from the
foot of the bed to Morgan’s chest and frowned. “Morgan,
you shouldn’t be doing that.”

She chided him as if they were best of friends instead of

colleagues…a colleague that Morgan didn’t even care for.
Too bad his brain to tongue function wasn’t working so well.
Instead, all he managed was, “What?”

Marian tittered. “Oh, doc, I’d love to see you on meds

more often.” She took the notes off of his chest and started
scanning through them.

“I’m not on meds,” Morgan managed to mumble.
Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan spotted Ryan’s

cocked head, the split second of confusion in his eye cleared
quickly enough. Then, his eyes narrowed. To Morgan’s
shock—as if he needed any more that day—Ryan licked his
lips and reached out a hand.

Morgan noted how the other man’s Adam’s apple

bobbed, but then Ryan gripped his hand gently between
both of his own. He smiled at Morgan, seeming to ignore
Marian, as he whispered, “Did you need pain meds, babe?”

Taking advantage of the distraction, Morgan focused on

Ryan. “Y-yeah. Something would be good.”

Ryan squeezed his hands. “You’re the doc,” he teased.

“What are you allowed to have?”

Smiling back at Ryan, Morgan murmured, “I can have

whatever I want. Just Ibuprofen is fine.”

Chuckling, his eyes narrowing, Ryan stated, “Maybe we

should get a second opinion. Wouldn’t want to do anything
that would complicate your healing.”

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“Excuse me,” Nurse Marian snapped. “That’s quite

enough of that behavior. This is a hospital, not a night club.”

Ryan’s dark brows shot up. His brown-eyed gaze turned

to peer at her levelly. “I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to engage
in a bit of teasing to help take my boyfriend’s mind off his
injury? I would have thought that would be good for him.”
As if he didn’t know what Marian’s darkening expression
meant—and, hell, maybe he didn’t—Ryan continued on.
“Hell, they do say that laughter is the best medicine.”

“Well,” Marian huffed. “That is just a silly saying.” She

glared at Ryan for a second, then fixed her cool, calculating
gaze on Morgan. “Now then, Morgan, let’s talk about your
injuries. It looks like you can be discharged in the morning,
but you’ll need assistance to help you move the first few
days.” Her smile appeared sickly to Morgan’s gaze. “As you
know, I’m a registered home nurse. I’d be happy to drop by
once a day to help you with…certain things.” At her last
couple of words, her eyes narrowed and she gave him an
insinuating smile. The way she swept her gaze up and down
Morgan’s form made his skin crawl.

“That won’t be necessary,” Ryan cut in, once more

drawing attention to himself. “I’ll have no trouble dropping
in several times a day to care for Morgan.” He removed his
right hand from where he still cupped Morgan’s, leaving his
left hand holding his fingers lightly. Reaching up, he
gripped Morgan’s neck, his thumb tracing his jawbone.
“You know I take care of what’s mine, Morgan.”

Morgan’s heart nearly skipped a beat at Ryan’s

proclamation. He didn’t know if the detective said these
things because he knew that the woman made him
uncomfortable, or if he actually felt that way. That didn’t
stop Morgan from wishing it were true. Morgan wanted
Ryan to want him just as much.

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Even Marian muttering something under her breath—

something probably insulting and rude—as she stormed out
of the room couldn’t keep Morgan from reveling in the hope
of the moment.

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Chapter Thirteen

yan knew he shouldn’t have publically staked his claim
without Morgan’s say so, but the way Nurse Marian

had behaved so familiarly with Morgan had pissed him the
hell off. Add to that the way his lover had suddenly seemed
so uncomfortable, Ryan’s protective instincts, instincts he’d
long ago buried, had flared to life.

Damn. I have a lover!
Ryan hadn’t had that in a long, long time.
“Hey,” Morgan murmured tentatively, gaining his

attention. “You, uh, you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Ryan replied, smiling at his

passenger. “Just…a lot to think about, I suppose.”

“I can gloss over what happened at the hospital with

anyone Marian may tell,” Morgan offered. “You know, just
tell them you were helping out a friend? Everyone here
knows she’s getting, well, pushy. I’ve threatened sexual
harassment charges, but that doesn’t seem to stop her.”
Grimacing tightly, in either pain or frustration, as Morgan
rested his head against the head-rest he muttered, “Guess I’ll
have to actually do it.”

Trying to remain somewhat impartial, Ryan nodded. “If

she won’t respect your space, that may be best.”

Morgan sighed, but didn’t respond.
Ryan pulled his old jeep into Morgan’s townhome’s

garage—Vincent would be bringing Morgan’s car by
eventually—then he turned to look at Morgan. The other

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man had leaned the seat all the way back and appeared to be
dozing. Ryan smiled at the peaceful expression on Morgan’s
face, finally no longer marred by pain-lines.

Knowing he couldn’t allow Morgan to sleep in that

uncomfortable position for long, Ryan pushed from the
vehicle and rounded the hood. He appreciated Carl and
Vincent for swapping out his motorcycle for what his friends
called the old rust-bucket. While the frame of the old, 1999
Jeep Cherokee was beginning to show its age—it was fifteen
years old, after all—the vehicle’s inner workings ran great,
so he saw no reason to buy anything new. Besides, he had
his bike and his Stingray. He didn’t need anything else.

Ryan had fended off offers from Donna so he could take

Morgan home. He realized the woman would probably drop
by that evening once she finished her shift. She was too good
a friend not to. He found the spunky blonde entertaining
and appreciated that Morgan had such good friends.

Morgan spoke of two other women—Naomi and Jenna—

who Ryan hadn’t met, yet, and an old college buddy who
ran off to—of all things—join the circus. Morgan had said
the guy, Monty, had been a gymnast in college and wanted
to be an acrobat. Opening the door and standing next to the
man, Ryan gently traced the tendon of his neck, admiring
the lean line.

“Come on, sleepy head,” Ryan murmured. “Let’s get you

inside. You’ll be more comfortable.”

Opening his eyes about halfway, Morgan peered blearily

up at him. “Mmm-kay,” he mumbled, although he made no
attempt to move.

Ryan chuckled softly, uncertain why he found that so

enchanting…just knowing that he did. He leaned into the
jeep and unbuckled Morgan’s safety belt. Sliding his left arm
around Morgan’s shoulders, Ryan gently gripped his right

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knee and eased it out of the vehicle. He did the same to the
second.

That got a reaction.
Morgan whimpered and lifted his head away from the

rest, turning in the seat.

“Easy, Morgan,” Ryan urged. “We’ll make this trip as

quickly as possible. Lean on me.”

Ryan helped Morgan stand, then maneuvered him as

swiftly as possible into the house. Climbing the stairs to the
bedroom took more out of Morgan than he seemed to have,
and Ryan ended up more carrying him up the steps than
helping him. Finally, he eased his lover onto his bed and
helped him lift his legs. “Sweats on or off?” he asked,
rubbing a thumb over Morgan’s cotton-covered knee.

“Um, well,” Morgan mumbled, his gaze fixing on his

thighs as the fingertips of his right hand traced over the t-
shirt covering his waist. “I don’t—” He grimaced and
focused on the wall.

“Hey,” Ryan whispered upon seeing his lover’s face flush.

He curved his forefinger and placed it under Morgan’s chin,
urging him to turn his head and meet his gaze. “You’re
aware I will see them soon enough when I change your
bandages, right?”

“I saw them when the nurse was changing the bandages,”

Morgan admitted. “They’re not pretty.”

Ryan leaned forward and pressed a gentle butterfly kiss

to the concerned doctor’s lips. “You mean there’ll be some
part of you that won’t be perfect?” Upon seeing the flush
and shadowed expression that colored Morgan’s face, Ryan
quickly added, “It doesn’t matter what the marks look like.
They show you’re strong. You survived an attack from a
madman.” Leaning down and nipping Morgan’s ear, he
whispered, “I’m very glad you did.”

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Until that said madman was located, Ryan had no

intention of leaving Morgan’s side. Carl was keeping him
abreast of the search for Dolan via phone calls and texts.
While Ryan didn’t mind the impromptu guard duty, part of
him did wish he could be out there tracking the bastard
down. However, he knew his need to see Morgan safe was
stronger, so he trusted his partner to get the job done.

Morgan smiled faintly. “I suppose on is fine. I’ll just lie on

top of the covers for now.” Smirking, he added, “I’ll
probably have to pee as soon as I get comfortable anyway.”

Chuckling, Ryan nodded. He reached over and eased

Morgan’s sneakers from his feet before toeing off his own
shoes. Finally, he picked up the throw blanket off of the boot
box and spread it across Morgan’s legs.

When Ryan headed out of the room, Morgan called,

“Wait. Aren’t you staying?”

Pleased that Morgan wanted him around, and knowing

they had some things to talk about, Ryan peered over his
shoulder at him. “Yeah. I’ll be right back. Just getting some
water, so you can take your meds later.”

Morgan nodded and settled his head on a pillow, his eyes

instantly closing.

Ryan strode through the townhouse, bounding down the

stairs and around the corner into the kitchen. After an
instant’s hesitation, he remembered which cupboard the
glasses were in and pulled a pair down. He filled them both
from the refrigerator’s filtered water dispenser before
returning to the foyer and the stairs. He hooked the plastic
bag containing Morgan’s meds with his pinky before re-
climbing the stairs and returning to the bedroom.

Setting the bag and glasses of water on the nightstand

next to Morgan, Ryan stripped off his over shirt and his
jeans, folding them and placing them on the boot box. Then,
he rounded the bed and slid under the blanket and settled

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next to Morgan. Lying on his side facing Morgan, Ryan
settled his left hand on the man’s arm.

Morgan’s eyes opened and he turned his head to look at

him. He smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ryan responded, returning his clearly sleepy

charge’s smile.

He expected that to be it, but then Morgan murmured,

“Thank you for being there.”

Ryan nodded, holding his gaze.
“I’m just not sure why you were,” Morgan continued.

“Why would you sleep by my bed? Why would you call me
your boyfriend? Why take me home and take care of me?
Donna could have done that, you know.”

“I know,” Ryan replied quietly. He’d wanted to have this

conversation when Morgan wasn’t on pain meds, but it
didn’t look like the man was going to allow that. Of course,
now that Ryan peered into his eyes and held his gaze, most
of the dilation caused by the meds had subsided. Perhaps
now was the best time after all. If Morgan didn’t want him
here, better to know now and not become even more
invested in the man.

Damn, why does that idea hurt so much?
Ryan realized with a twist to the gut that he was far

fonder of Morgan than even he’d realized. Clearing his
throat, he murmured, “I haven’t been in a relationship in…”
He did a quick mental calculation. “Over eight years.”

“Wow!” Morgan whispered. “Why?”
Scoffing, Ryan mumbled, “Well, my last one didn’t end so

well, you see.” Figuring he’d best get it out in the open now,
he admitted, “I got involved with a woman that, uh, well I
thought it was love. I was even ready to ask her to move in
with me,” Ryan admitted. He grimaced at the sharp pain
spiking through his chest, which he knew wasn’t from
missing the woman but from wounded pride at how he’d
been played.

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Ryan met Morgan’s gaze and told him, “After dating for

six months, I found out she was actually one of Alexander
Capriole’s women. He had a harem, it turned out, that he
used to seduce men and gather information. It was how he
became a drug kingpin. I was in narcotics, at the time, and to
her, I was just another assignment.” Rolling onto his back,
Ryan stared at the ceiling as he finished, “Well, when we
finally closed in on him, it came out that I was dating one of
his women and that she’d been assigned to me. It almost
botched up the whole case.”

For several long seconds, the only thing that could be

heard was the sounds of their breathing, the occasional roar
of a car passing outside, and the creak of the house.

Finally, the bed squeaked as Morgan shifted position next

to him. The other man rested his hand on his arm
tentatively. On instinct, or maybe needing to feel connected
to another person, Ryan reached over and settled his left
hand over Morgan’s where it lay on his right upper arm.

“What they did…it was wrong,” Morgan murmured. “It

doesn’t matter if it was you or someone else. No one
deserves to be used that way.”

Ryan looked over at him and gave him a wry smile. “I

know. It just seemed easier not to try after that. Ya know?
Keeping it just sex was easier.”

Watching the strained, hurt expression cross Morgan’s

features before it cleared almost as quickly, Ryan realized
how that sounded.

“Until you,” he amended. “Until I met you. God, I didn’t

even know you were a man.” He reached up and touched
Morgan’s lips. “Then, even after I did, I couldn’t dismiss
you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

Morgan’s lips parted around a surprised gasp. “Why?”
“I have no idea,” Ryan whispered. “And now I don’t care,

because I don’t want you out.”

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“You don’t?”
“I don’t,” Ryan confirmed.
“Why?”
Rolling back toward the man, Ryan helped Morgan return

to his back. He rested on his right elbow as he traced
Morgan’s neck to his collarbone, pushing aside his t-shirt a
bit to touch the creamy flesh. Then, he slid his fingers back
up along and around his jaw, then down the other side of his
neck.

Morgan tilted his head back in response, giving him more

room to touch and explore. Even feeling the slight prick of
his lover’s nearly invisible five o’clock shadow didn’t
diminish his enjoyment of the simple activity. Instead, he
found it more enjoyable, the texture unique, so different than
his own heavy whiskers when he shaved.

“I couldn’t resist finding you again,” Ryan whispered,

staring into Morgan’s vibrant blue, heavy-lidded eyes
framed by sweeping lashes the envy of any woman he’d
been with. “You gave me a chance, even though I didn’t
know anything about being with a man. You allowed me to
curl around you when I was tired, not asking anything, just
giving me your presence. I’ve never had that before,” he told
him, hoping the man understood how much he appreciated
that simple joy.

Hell, even years before, when he’d slept the night with

Audrey, they’d always screwed first.

“Really?” Morgan whispered. “What about your family?”
Ryan smirked. “I’m a foster kid. My parents died in a car

crash when I was six.” Upon seeing Morgan’s sympathetic
expression, he shook his head sharply. “I don’t really
remember them, and I got out of the foster system a long,
long time ago. I don’t dwell on it much. Now I put the
bastards who drive drunk away.”

“And rescue damsels in distress.”

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132

Grinning, Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Lowering his head, Ryan settled his lips over Morgan’s

own. He flicked out his tongue and traced along his upper,
then lower lip. Finally, he nipped the plump flesh and
reveled in how Morgan opened to him. Ryan slid his tongue
into his lover’s mouth, enjoying the taste and submission
even as he recognized the strength in Morgan.

Ryan sucked lightly on Morgan’s tongue. Hearing his

man’s low moans of pleasure, feeling his lover’s long,
slender fingers thread through his thick hair, Ryan fed
Morgan a growl of his own. His cock thickened at the feel of
the man’s throat beneath his fingertips, the taste of the man
on his tongue.

Knowing they couldn’t do anything, Ryan regrettably

eased the kiss to an end and lifted his head. As their lips
separated, he let out a quiet sigh. “Damn, your kisses do
make me forget myself.” He moved his left hand enough so
he could touch the corner of Morgan’s mouth. “I do love
your lips,” he whispered. “Fantastic to touch, to kiss, hell,
just to look at,” he growled, his heart thudding as more
blood flowed to his hardening prick.

“Fuck,” Ryan snapped. Gently he drew away. “So

distracting.”

Morgan grinned shyly up at him, his blue eyes lit with his

own hunger. “So, uh, so does that mean you were serious
about wanting to be my boyfriend?”

“Hell, yeah,” Ryan immediately replied. “If you can put

up with a relationship-challenged detective with a shitty
schedule.”

Snickering, Morgan slid his hands down from Ryan’s hair

to his shoulders. “Hey, it’s not like my own schedule is very
relationship friendly. I think I foresee a lot of missed dates in
our future.”

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Ryan curved his lips into a wry smile and nodded. “Yeah.

Yeah, we will. How about if work gets in the way of a date,
we promise not to get angry…and if it’s something really
important to us, we say that up front.” He struggled to keep
his cheeks from heating as he admitted, “I’m for shit when it
comes to dates. If it’s a birthday or an anniversary, Carl puts
a reminder in my phone…several days in advance.” He
grimaced. “And then a couple more the closer it gets.”

Morgan chuckled softly. His eyelids drooped a bit. “Got a

problem remembering dates,” he whispered. “I’ll remember
not to expect anything on my birthday.”

Ryan started to nod ruefully, but saw the way Morgan’s

brows furrowed. “What?”

“I’m just wondering…are we going to be—” Morgan

paused, flushing a bit.

Lifting a brow in question, Ryan repeated himself. “What

is it?” Then, he chided, “We can’t start a relationship with
secrets.”

“Well, I was just wondering…I mean—” Morgan’s face

flushed darker. “You’re supposedly a straight ladies man
and I’m a guy. I’m not in the closet. I’ve been out since I was
fifteen. Are we, um, gonna be open about being together? Or
are you, uh, gonna introduce me as, you know, you’re
friend?”

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat as the idea of walking into a

precinct barbeque with Morgan on his arm pushed its way
into his mind. Did he have enough guts to introduce the
man as his significant other? Then, he mentally recalled all
the reactions of when Carl had outed himself by taking
Vincent to a barbeque. Ryan had stood by his partner’s side
and had even put a fellow detective in a headlock. He knew
his friend would do the same for him.

“Look, if you need more time to come to grips with this,”

Morgan started. “Hell, I mean, I understand this is a big

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change. Maybe we should talk about it after we’ve actually
known each other more than a couple of weeks and met up
for a few quick fucks.”

“Stop,” Ryan growled. “No.”
Glaring down at Morgan, Ryan swept his gaze over the

doctor’s face. He quickly assessed his uncertainty, his fear,
and his desire to keep his own feelings close to the vest. Hell,
Ryan wasn’t a detective for nothing.

Cupping Morgan’s cheek, Ryan smiled widely at him.

“Morgan, I mean to start as I intend to go,” he stated. “That
means you’re mine and I’m yours and I—” He paused,
realizing what he’d been about to say. Except, it was the
truth. “I don’t want to share you.”

Morgan grinned widely at him. “I don’t want to share

you, either.”

Ryan’s relief almost overwhelmed him. He grinned

widely. “Good. Then we feel the same.”

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Chapter Fourteen

organ couldn’t believe his luck. When he’d woken to
this man sleeping beside his bed, he hadn’t wanted to

admit just how much he liked the domesticity of it. It
reminded him of curling up together after Carl’s Halloween
party. No sex, just cuddling, and sleeping in each other’s
arms.

Domestic.
Still, Morgan knew it was a ridiculous notion. Never did

he expect Ryan to feel the same way. The sexy man had been
touchy-feely enough, but only in regards to sex. Hell, it
hadn’t even had to be about his own release, Morgan
realized suddenly, remembering getting off in the break
room. His prick thickened at the memory.

“I-Is that something, uh, maybe I should wait until you’re

feeling better,” Ryan finished on a mumble. His focus shifted
to the bedspread to the right of Morgan’s head.

“No,” Morgan soothed, drawing out the word. He slid his

hands back up Ryan’s neck. He threaded the fingers of one
hand through the thick hairs at the nape of his lover’s neck.
With the other hand, he cupped his jaw, his thumb nail
scraping back and forth over Ryan’s stubble. “You
misunderstand me,” he murmured. “I’m attracted to you
and interested in you, and I’ve imagined a life where we’d
be together. I just never thought it would happen. It’s taking
me a few minutes to wrap my head around your confession.
That’s all.”

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Ryan nodded slowly. His wide smile creased his bearded

lips. “I can understand that. I just wanted you to know that
I’m serious. That I’m in this for the long—”

The trill of a phone interrupted Ryan, making him pause.

While Morgan didn’t recognize the ringtone, Ryan must
have. Muttering a curse, he pulled away and crawled to the
foot of the bed and snagged his phone from his jeans’ belt.

Lifting it to his ear, he snarled, “This better be fucking

good,” as he rolled and flopped backward, reclining on the
bed. “What? How’s that possible?” He glared at the ceiling.
“But…damn it! I’ll be right in.” He disconnected the call and
allowed his hand to flop onto the mattress.

“Gotta go?” Morgan asked, even though he knew it

wasn’t necessary.

“Yeah,” Ryan muttered. “I’m sorry.” He rolled onto his

elbow facing Morgan. “That was Carl,” he started softly.
“They found Dolan. He checked into an Instacare with a
knife wound to his, uh, groin. It barely missed his scrotum.”

Morgan felt the blood drain from his face. “Oh, my god.

Did I do that?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. He said it was a woman he

didn’t recognize. She evidently snuck up while he was
cutting you and somehow got the knife from him, then
started swinging.” Rubbing his free hand over Morgan’s t-
shirt covered chest, he asked, “Do you remember anything
about a woman?”

“No,” Morgan immediately replied. He blinked, trying to

think of anything other than the sight of his own blood
oozing from between his slashed clothes and the pain of
struggling while wounded. His heart began to pound and
the coolness of sweat tickled the base of his neck. Shaking
his head, Morgan whispered again, “No. I—Nothing.”

“Okay, relax,” Ryan urged, obviously spotting his unease.

He slid his hand up and wrapped his fingers loosely around

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his neck, massaging his pulse-point with his thumb and
forefinger. “You don’t need to remember. They went back
and pulled prints off the knife. There were partials of two
different sets, and they’re running it through the system
now.”

Morgan nodded as well as he could around Ryan’s hand.

“Why are you looking for her?” he asked, relaxing under the
man’s touch. Damn, the guy really did have amazing hands.
A thought occurred to his quickly-becoming-sluggish mind.
He smirked as his eyelids slowly lowered. “If you find her I
could thank her.”

“No,” Ryan responded, smirking.
“Why not? I should be thanked.” The voice came from

near the bedroom doorway.

Ryan’s hand disappeared from Morgan’s neck, but that

was good, because he jerked his head up so he could see
who stood in the doorway of the bedroom. “Marian?” he
gasped, shock filling him. “What are you doing here?” Wait,
something else was more important, wasn’t it…right. “How’d
you get in?”

Marian smirked. “Oh, honey. I’ve had keys to your place

for ages.” She waved her left hand dismissively. “It’s not like
the locker room is secure.” Scoffing, Marian took a couple of
steps forward, her right hand remaining hidden behind her
back. “Now then,” she stated, her voice turning cool. “Why
shouldn’t I be thanked? I saved Morgan’s life.”

“It seems your life needs saving often, darling,” Ryan

murmured. Then, louder, he stated, “You’re right. If I had
known you were the one who found him and took him into
the ER, I would certainly have thanked you.”

Ryan settled his hand on Morgan’s wrist and gave it a

squeeze as he smiled at him. Meeting his gaze, Morgan
almost smiled back, but then he saw the slight narrowing of

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his eyes and the way his lashes lowered just a bit. The look
appeared calculating, a warning even.

“He is not your darling!” Marian screeched. “He’s mine!

Get away from him!” As she spoke, she brought her right
hand around, revealing a large knife clutched in her fist.

Morgan jerked his attention back to the clearly angry

woman, taking in her heaving breasts, narrowed eyes, and
flushed face. When Ryan gently squeezed his hand again
and began to slowly move away from him, Morgan
refocused on him and caught his lover’s reassuring nod.
Then, Ryan slipped to the side of the bed. Standing in just
his briefs, t-shirt, and socks, his hands out to his sides, he
probably should have looked silly. Morgan didn’t think so,
though, finding himself in awe of the confidence and calm
Ryan radiated. With him in the room, even with Marian
wielding a knife, Morgan felt safe.

“You don’t get to touch him anymore,” Marian stated

shrilly, lifting her right arm and waving the knife at Ryan,
the stainless steel blade reflecting the bedroom light.
“Morgan is mine!”

His mind racing, Morgan suddenly wished he hadn’t

taken that eight hundred milligram ibuprofen. He’d always
been a light-weight, and his mind felt fuzzy and hard to
focus. He still couldn’t seem to get over the fact that Marian
was in his bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” Morgan asked again, trying

to focus on her.

Marian’s eyes narrowed. “You are so thick sometimes,

Morgan,” she snapped. “Haven’t you been paying
attention?” Her expression changed, softening into a
simpering smile. “I heard you talking about all those fags
you play around with. Well, now they won’t be competition
anymore.”

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Morgan’s first instinct was to bristle at Marian’s

derogatory language. Then, the rest of what she said
snagged his attention. “The guys I play with? Play what
with?” He frowned. “You mean the computer game I play
online?”

“You play computer games?” Ryan asked, his brows

shooting up in surprise.

Flushing at being busted for his guilty pleasure, Morgan

admitted, “Yeah. If I’ve had a tough week, I like to lounge in
my underwear with a glass of wine and play war games.
There’s a group of guys I hook up with on there and we
blow shit up.”

“Grenadeboy267, Potatogun84, and 1-anddun?”
Morgan’s jaw sagged open when Ryan whispered the IDs

of a few of the people he played with. “Oh my god. How did
you know?”

“Because the men who used those IDs are dead, Morgan,”

Ryan softly stated. Turning in place where he stood beside
the edge of the mattress, the detective focused on Marian.
“They won’t be competition anymore?” he repeated
Marian’s earlier words softly.

Marian grinned widely, but instead of making her appear

happy, to Morgan, it made her look creepy, what with the
way it made her eyes glow oddly. “Of course not. I couldn’t
have you slumming around with people like that after we’re
married. What would mother think?” She rolled her eyes
exaggeratedly, waving the knife almost absently. “Now, I’m
going to get rid of Ryan, and we’re going to take mother to
this wonderful retirement home I found in Ecatepec,
Mexico.”

As Marian prattled on, Morgan realized just how

deranged the woman was…and evidently dangerous. Seeing
Ryan slinking to the left, Morgan prayed his detective lover
had a plan. Morgan didn’t know Ryan well enough to read

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the inscrutable gleam in his eyes. He could however, try to
buy his lover time.

“So, how did you remove the competition?” Morgan

asked quietly.

Snickering, Marian moved a step closer, holding the

weapon before her. “With this knife, of course.” She made
stabbing motions with the blade. Marian’s eyes lit up with
manic glee as she told him, “I got quite good at it. They
never saw it coming, and I made certain blood totally
covered their genitals so no one would have to see their
disgusting proclivities again.”

Bile rose in Morgan’s throat, burning hot and threatening

to reveal that he had nothing in his stomach. That was
probably the only reason he didn’t upchuck. However, he
couldn’t stop the sweat from beading his forehead or feeling
the chill in the air as his skin became clammy. He felt certain
that it wasn’t because of the pain from his wounds.

This woman, this nurse, whom he’d worked with for years

had killed people!

Marian held out her hand. “Come on, Morgan dear.”
Good god, she actually expects me to go with her?
“H-How did you know who I was online with?” Morgan

asked as he struggled to rise to a sitting position. If Marian
thought he was attempting to obey, surely he could keep her
talking. “I never—”

“Sure you did, dear,” Marian cut in sweetly. “I listened

when you spoke with Donna.” She spat out Morgan’s best
friend’s name as if it were foul and her nose crinkled. “She
shouldn’t have encouraged you. Such a bad influence.” Her
tone dripped with disdain.

Carefully swinging his legs out from under the covers,

Morgan felt grateful he’d had Ryan leave his sweatpants on.
He didn’t want to face a psychotic woman naked. Well, he
didn’t want to face a psychotic woman at all, but naked just
seemed so much worse.

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“But, my fr—uh, the people I played with online,”

Morgan pressed. He glanced toward Ryan, who’d remained
quiet longer than he thought he should. Ryan’s eyes were
still narrowed, but Morgan felt certain he caught an
approving glint filling them. Once more focusing on Marian.
“How did you, um, know who they were?”

Marian shrugged. “Easy. Like I said. My MIT buddy

taught me all kinds of useful things. That was years ago, but
I retained my skills.” She said it as if it were a matter of
pride. “Anyway, get up. I need the bed to take care of
Ryan.”

Morgan’s stomach gave another heave at the very

mention of Ryan being…taken care of. Before he had to
choose how to proceed, Ryan’s deep strong voice ordered,
“Drop the knife, Marian.”

“How dare you—where’d you get that?”
Relief flooded Morgan when he spotted the black gun in

Ryan’s hand and his lover’s confident stance…even in his
underwear. Ryan held the gun in his right hand, his left
supporting the weapon’s base. He pointed it directly at
Marian’s chest.

“Put the knife down, Marian,” Ryan said again. “It’s over.

You’re under arrest.”

That was evidently the wrong thing to say. The enraged

screech that erupted from Marian’s throat made Morgan’s
ears feel as if they bled. He cried out as he saw the crazy
woman lunge at Ryan, the knife raised high. The loud blast
of a gunshot echoed through the small room, then both
figures collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Morgan pushed to his feet. Gasping, he managed to get

his balance. His joints ached with the strain of holding
himself up as pain wracked his body. He forced himself to
move toward the downed pair.

The familiar metallic scent of blood filled the air.

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Just as Morgan reached them, he heard a groan and

Marian, who lay on top, face-down, moved. He glanced
around swiftly for a weapon. The best he could do was a
hardcover book that lay on the nightstand. He quickly
grabbed it. One hand on the bed and the other gripping the
book at head level, Morgan hobbled toward Ryan and
Marian.

A groan rumbled through the room, the sound distinctly

masculine. When Marian moved, she kept going, flopping
sideways and mostly off of Ryan, who panted and grimaced
where he lay on the floor. Marian lay still, her body
sprawled and her sightless hazel eyes staring up at the
ceiling. Marian’s red life-giving fluid pooled around both of
them, oozing sluggishly from her chest.

“Ryan?” Morgan whispered, focusing on his lover.
“Freeze!”
Morgan opened his hands, inadvertently dropping his

book. His focus snapped to the book thumping on the floor,
then to the silver handgun being pointed at him.
Instinctively, he took a step backward, and nearly hit his ass
as his right thigh buckled.

“Whoa, babe,” Ryan called into his ear as his arms

wrapped around Morgan’s waist.

“How’d you move that fast?” Morgan mumbled, dark

spots threatening the edges of his vision. “Oh.” He gripped
Ryan’s forearms where they rested on his hips.

“What the fuck, Ryan?”
Finally, Morgan recognized Carl’s voice…or maybe it was

because he could finally look beyond the gun because
Ryan’s partner lowered it to point at the floor. “Carl?” His
brows furrowed, seeing the several faces behind Carl, who
stood in the doorframe. “What are you—who are—” He
stopped, his mind beginning to shut down.

“Are you two okay?” Carl asked slowly, softly.

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“I’m fine,” Ryan replied just as quietly. “Bump on my

head is all. Hit the floor hard when she landed on me.”

“And Morgan?” Carl asked.
Morgan opened his mouth, closed it, before managing to

mumble, “I-I’m good.” Then, exhaustion washed over him
and this time, when his eyes closed, consciousness fled him.

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Chapter Fifteen

yan stalked through the hospital.
Over the past couple of weeks, Ryan had become

familiar with the building’s layout. He strode swiftly and
confidently, and no one bothered to stop him. Of course, by
now, the nurses had become used to Ryan’s visits.

As Ryan stepped around a plump brunette so he could

hurry on his way, he heard her titter. Glaring over his
shoulder at her, Ryan saw her just cover her mouth with her
hand. She giggled once more as her face blushed and she
turned away.

Yeah, he received that response, sometimes, too.
Evidently, when Ryan had declared himself as Morgan’s

boyfriend a couple of weeks before, Marian had said some
rather rude words under her breath while cleaning up in the
locker room. When another woman had questioned her
about it, Marian had revealed what Ryan had said about
Morgan, then expressed a few choice slurs. That nurse had
gone to Donna.

Donna had finished her shift, then gone straight to

Morgan’s, since Morgan had already been released. She’d
arrived while Morgan’s home was still full of police officers
and had obviously been appalled upon learning what had
transpired—namely, Marian revealing she was a psychotic
stalker who fancied her and Morgan together. Donna had
wanted to take Morgan home with her.

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Ryan had kiboshed that damn quickly enough. They’d

been standing in Morgan’s spare bedroom, which was where
Ryan had lain Morgan after he’d collapsed. Upon Donna
taking one look at Morgan’s pale and sleeping form, she’d
turned to Ryan and asked, “When can I get into his
bedroom? I’ll pack a bag and take him home with me.”

Frowning, Ryan had felt a rush of jealous protectiveness.

It was similar to the sensation that had filled him upon
seeing Marian in Morgan’s bedroom. He hadn’t even
thought for one second about his own nudity. His only
thought had been to protect Morgan, to protect the man he
loved.

That thought had scared the shit out of him. He didn’t

know when it had happened or what to do about it. He’d
banished the thought and had done what he did best…beat
the bad guy.

That he remained mostly naked still hadn’t occurred to

him when Officer Bellows had walked into the spare room
to take his statement. Then, Carl had appeared behind the
other man and, smirking, had held out his jeans to him.
Ryan had felt his brows shoot up in reaction, then he’d
scoffed, taken them, and pulled them on.

Ryan had thought of that upon hearing Donna’s claim.

He’d crossed his arms over his chest, frowned down at the
slender woman, and stated, “No. He’s my boyfriend. I’ll take
care of him.”

Donna’s brows had shot up, then down to match the tilt

of her lips. “Your boyfriend? Here in this room? Or out there
amongst all your cop buddies, too?” she asked, waving
toward the open doorway.

“When they walked in, I wasn’t wearing any pants,” Ryan

stated bluntly. “I think they’ll have figured out by now that
we’re more than just friends.”

“And if they ask?” Donna had pressed.

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146

Ryan had purposefully pretended to not know what she’d

meant. “Who ask what?”

Narrowing her eyes, Donna had hissed, “You know what

I’m talking about. If your cop buddies ask if you’re fucking
Morgan? If they ask if you’re a fag?”

“Only because you’re a woman do I not deck you for that

comment,” Ryan replied coldly. “Never refer to myself or
Morgan that way again.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Donna responded, not

deterred, although a bit of uncertainty had replaced her
righteous anger.

In response, Ryan had narrowed his eyes, stepped from

the room, and hollered, “Hey, assholes.” It’d gotten the
attention of just about all the cops with the exception of Carl,
who continued to talk with the medical examiner. Ryan had
thrust his thumb over his shoulder and stated, “That’s
Doctor Morgan Pruitt, my boyfriend. Any of you give him
trouble, and you’ll answer to me. Got it?”

A couple of them had scowled, several had given him the

finger—more from his tone than because of his words, while
a pair had even looked Morgan’s way as if they could see
through walls. All of them had returned to work. After a few
seconds, Carl had looked his way and given him an
approving, if a bit wry, smile. Ryan had nodded back.

Then, Ryan had stepped back into the room and focused

on Donna. He’d crossed his arms over his chest and quirked
up one brow. “Happy?”

Donna had cocked her head. “Huh,” she huffed, her eyes

narrowing. “Why didn’t Morgan tell me you’d gotten
serious?”

Ryan shrugged, unable to hide his grin. “We progressed.”
When Morgan had woken, Ryan had worked with the

cops to begin the process of closing the case. He’d explained
that Marian had murdered Morgan’s online friends because

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she thought they were a threat to her imagined relationship
with him.

With Marian’s confession, Ryan could finally bring

closure to the friends and family of those she’d killed. While
that cleared Dolan of those crimes, Morgan confirmed his
desire to press charges for his attack. Ryan looked forward
to putting the bastard away for going after his man.

Then, Ryan had bundled Morgan back up and taken him

home. He hadn’t wanted to leave Morgan alone in the
townhouse where Marian had broken in. Donna had
evidently been of the same mind, for she’d packed Morgan’s
bag for him.

Now, just over two weeks later, Morgan was healed and

back at work. He spent most of his evenings at Ryan’s small
two-bedroom home, and Ryan wanted to make that
permanent. The nights Morgan returned to his own place
because they were both working, Ryan had come home to an
empty house, and he found he missed his sweet doctor’s
presence more than he could ever remember missing
anyone. Ryan didn’t want to do that anymore.

Stopping at the nurse’s station on the third floor, Ryan

lifted a brow at Nurse Conex, who stood behind the desk.
Ryan knew Morgan had been scheduled for two surgeries
that morning. He’d wanted to be at the hospital at noon, but
a last minute interview with a witness had made him run
late. Now, at nearly one o’clock, he knew he didn’t have
long before Morgan would need to begin prepping for his
two o’clock surgery.

Nurse Conex noticed him and grinned. “He’s in his

office.”

Ryan nodded, then turned and headed toward the stairs.

He took them two at a time until he reached the fifth floor.
He nodded at a doctor who offered him a greeting of
detective then he sneered at a nurse who looked at him with a

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148

disapproving sniff. Ryan didn’t know if she didn’t like him
because he was a detective or because he was in a
relationship with a man, nor could he give a rip.

Finally, Ryan reached Morgan’s office. He’d visited the

small space a few times when picking up Morgan after
work, but never stayed long enough to do what he now
planned. Pausing outside the door, he took a deep breath for
courage, then knocked.

After a few seconds, the door opened and Morgan looked

up at him. His questioning look quickly turned into smile.
“Ryan! Hi! I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“I missed you last night,” Ryan stated, gripping Morgan’s

neck and using the hold to ease him backward so he could
step into the small room. He closed the door behind him
before saying, “I wanted to see you.”

Ryan really wanted it to be the last time he had to miss his

lover that way.

Morgan smiled. “I missed you, too,” he admitted.
Resting his second hand on Morgan’s hip, Ryan lowered

his head. “Good,” he growled right before he sealed his
mouth over his lover’s lips.

Sipping first Morgan’s top lip, then the bottom, Ryan

followed that up by swiping his tongue along the plump
flesh he loved touching and feeling so much. Ryan felt
Morgan open his mouth, the warmth of his panting breaths
drifting across his own upper lip, but he ignored the
invitation. Instead, he continued to focus on just Morgan’s
lower lip. He sucked it, nibbled it, worked it, and worshiped
it.

As Ryan did that, he turned them. When Morgan’s back

pressed against the door, stopping their movement, Ryan
ended the kiss and lifted his head. Peering into his lover’s
eyes, Ryan told him, “I’ve been dying to do that all day. I
missed you in my bed last night, in my arms. I didn’t like it.”

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“Me, neither,” Morgan whispered. “What time did you

get in?”

“Around ten-thirty,” Ryan told him. “I almost called you,

but I knew you had an early surgery.”

“Considerate of you.” He smiled cheekily. “And stupid. I

was horny last night.”

Growling, Ryan slid the hand on Morgan’s hip down and

around to his ass. He dug his fingers into Morgan’s crease.
“You were horny, were you?” Ryan rumbled. “How horny?”

Ryan just bit back a moan when his fingertips touched

something and Morgan gasped.

“Really horny,” Morgan whispered breathily. “Really,

really—Oh, Ry—Hero!”

Growling, Ryan massaged the bump beneath Morgan’s

cheeks again and hummed in appreciation at the groan that
escaped his lover. He loved the noises his sexy doctor made
and wanted to hear more.

“I’m here now,” Ryan stated, rutting his own hard dick

against Morgan’s ridge and stomach. “How about I take this
plug out and replace it with something a little more
enjoyable.”

Morgan’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head

as he nodded.

Ryan glanced behind him and spotted Morgan’s desk.

Moving his hands to his lover’s waist, Ryan lifted and
turned him. He took the few steps necessary to cross the
small room and placed Morgan on the desk, pushing papers
out of the way in the process.

“Brace yourself,” Ryan ordered, the ache in his cock

turning his voice gruff with arousal.

With single minded determination, Ryan gripped the

waistband of Morgan’s scrubs and boxers and pulled them
down. Morgan leaned back on his elbows and lifted his hips,
making the move easy. Ryan paused to admire Morgan’s

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150

hard weeping prick when it sprang free of the clothes. As he
teased Morgan’s balls with his fingertips, then traced along
the thick vein running the length of his erection, he used his
other hand to tug off Morgan’s shoes and yank off his
underwear and scrubs.

Once Morgan lay bared from waist to socks, Ryan rested

one hand on the side of the desk at his hip and pushed
Morgan’s thighs open wide with his right hand. He rested
his hand on his inner thigh and skimmed along the soft flesh
to the sensitive skin behind Morgan’s balls.

Morgan spread his legs wide, bending his legs and resting

his heels on the edge of the desk awkwardly. “Don’t make
me wait,” Morgan pleaded.

Chuckling, Ryan narrowed his eyes and reached lower,

rubbing his thumb over the base of the plug in Morgan’s
channel. “You seem to enjoy it so much, though,” he
crooned, knowing just how true it was.

While Morgan had been healing, Ryan had become an

expert at giving hand jobs and blowjobs. He’d even learned
to swallow, which had been interesting the first couple of
times he’d done it. One of the things he found so fascinating
was how Morgan loved the suspense almost as much as the
actual release. Ryan had learned to love it, too, and the first
time they’d fucked after Morgan’s stitches were removed,
they’d done it watching a movie…watching the whole movie,
with Morgan sitting on his lap, impaled on Ryan’s cock.
Ryan had gotten off three times during the course of the
action flick. Morgan had held off until the credits rolled.
Afterward, Ryan had grabbed his lover’s cock and had
jacked him hard and fast as he’d rammed up into him
swiftly. Ryan looked forward to doing that again.

Right now, though, Ryan wanted to bury himself so deep

inside Morgan and to feel that connection he couldn’t seem
to get enough of.

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151

“Gonna take you now, though, lover,” Ryan stated,

gripping the base of the plug. He pulled it an inch free, then
released it just to watch Morgan gasp and feel his lover
shudder in his grip. “Ready for that?”

“Yes, Ry, please, yes,” Morgan babbled. “You know I’m

ready.”

Ryan did know. He yanked a packet of lube and a

condom from his back pocket. After rolling the latex down
his length, he coated himself in the slick. Wasting no time for
play, he pulled the plug free of Morgan’s ass, gripped the
base of his own prick, and lined himself up.

Morgan lifted his legs and wrapped them around Ryan’s

waist. He tightened his hold, trying to urge him forward.
“Now, Ry,” he urged. “Now, love.”

Freezing for just an instant at the term, Ryan grinned.

“Hell, yeah. Your love,” Ryan murmured, really liking the
sound of that. He wanted to be Morgan’s love. After all, he
loved this man. With that thought burning in his mind, Ryan
thrust forward, sinking his prick deep into his mostly
stretched lover. “That’s it,” he growled, watching his cock
disappear more and more into his man’s ass with each slow,
gliding rut. “Take me. Take all of me.”

“You know I will,” Morgan replied. Lying flat on his

back, his palms pressed flat on the wooden desk to give
himself some purchase, Morgan peered up at him with lust
and desire burning in his blue eyes. “I’ll always take you.”

Ryan bottomed out. Panting hard, he froze, his cock

encased in heat and a vise-like grip his couldn’t seem to get
enough of…and never wanted to. He peered down at where
their bodies were connected, his bush of pubes rubbing
against Morgan’s tight balls. Then, he looked up and met
Morgan’s heavy-lidded gaze.

Leaning over the other man, Ryan rested his weight on

his left hand. He reached down and gently traced the mark

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152

on Morgan’s left thigh, then the ones on his right. While the
stitches had been removed, the lines still appeared pink as
they continued to heal.

“I almost lost you when I’d just found you, Morgan,”

Ryan whispered, lifting his gaze to meet his lover’s eyes. “I
never want to feel that way again.” He lowered his torso
until they were flush together. “I want you with me. I want
to be your love.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. His lust-drunk expression

cleared. He gaped up at him for a moment, then whispered,
“I’m speared on your dick. Is this the best time to be
expressing your intensions to keep me?”

Ryan utilized the last of his control and stilled all

movement. He smiled down at the slender doctor below
him, praying all the love and affection he wasn’t man
enough to voice showed through in his expression.

“Morgan, I used to think I was happy alone,” Ryan

whispered. “But now I know what true happiness is…and
you’ve shown that to me.” Lowering his head, he pressed a
kiss to Morgan’s lips, sweeping his tongue deep and tasting
his lover. When he broke the kiss and lifted his head, he
asked, “Will you complete my life and move in with me? I
never want to sleep another night without you again.”

“M-Move in with you?” Morgan whispered. “But, isn’t it

too soon?”

“Maybe,” Ryan conceded. “But tell me this.” He began to

move, slowly, drawing his cock out and then pushing it back
into the man below him. He relished the press and glide of
his lover’s muscles rippling around him for a few seconds,
then once more found his tongue. “Do you remember that
night we spent two hours on the sofa, my dick stretching
your ass while we watched a movie, just like your butt plugs
do at work?”

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153

Morgan’s cheeks flushed even more and he nodded.

“God, that was amazing.”

“It was amazing,” Ryan whispered. “Now, how much

more amazing would it be if I weren’t wearing a condom?”
He’d never not worn a condom, but with this man, he
wondered how it’d feel. For this man, for Morgan, Ryan was
willing. “I’m willing to devote my life to you, Morgan. I trust
you.” He whispered the admission. “I’ll show you my tests. I
want you with me every spare minute of the day and I want
to feel my seed filling your ass. I want to experience all the
pleasures possible and I want that with you.” He shifted his
angle and made certain his next slow, steady rut hit
Morgan’s prostate. When Morgan gasped, his eyes
widening, Ryan knew he’d succeeded and he whispered,
“Only you.”

“I never thought you’d offer that,” Morgan murmured.
“And now that I have?” Ryan asked, his heart hammering

in his chest as he waited for his answer, nearly losing
himself with need in the process. “Will you accept?”

“I do,” Morgan whispered. “I very much do.”
“So when you leave tonight? Where are you going?” Ryan

growled, his rutting thrusts speeding up, eager for an
answer as well as so much more.

Morgan grinned widely at him. He tightened his legs,

silently urging him faster. “I’ll be going home to my lover. I
hope you’ll be ready.”

Ryan growled, loving that answer. “Damn right, I’ll be.”

About the Author

Charlie started writing fantasy when she was eight, and after
stumbling onto her first erotic romance at age nineteen, she
realized her true calling. She now focuses on writing gay
erotic romance, normally of the paranormal variety, with
heroes of all kinds. With the help and support of her
husband, Charlie finally fulfilled one of her life-long
goals…move to acreage with her horses. You can often find
her curled up with her laptop and a cup of tea or glass of
wine, creating her next adventure. Charlie enjoys exploring
the mountains of her new Oregon home on horseback, 4-
wheeler, or motorcycle.

She can be reached at ch.richards2010@yahoo.com
Or visit her at www.charlie-richards.com

Document Outline

Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author

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