Chapter 72
I cut him off. “Sorry, Deej. You ain’t my type.”
“Tommy’ll fuck you raw,” he warned as he scooped up the cash and my card with the hand not massaging his balls. “He’s a hardass, I’ve heard. Likes it rough.”
I shoved my hands down into my pockets and touched my own stiffening cock. “I’ll take my chances.”
* * * *
For two days, nothing. The third day, I was rooting through my contacts, looking for someone who maybe knew someone who could hook us up, when the phone rang on my desk. Distracted, I wedged it under my ear and said, “Richard Guy, private investigator. Talk to me.”
Silence on the line, and I knew who it was before he spoke. Tommy’s voice was only slightly deeper than his sister’s. “What are you looking for me for?”
“Tommy?” I asked. He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat that could’ve been either yes or no, but I already knew the answer. “Got some questions for you. Where can we meet?”
“Questions? That all?” Was it just wishful thinking or did he sound disappointed? “Hit me up now, copper, but make it fast. I don’t get paid to talk.”
I dug out his picture and tried to match the voice to the face. Just listening to him breathe in my ear aroused me. Leaning back in my chair, I trailed a finger down the zipper of my pants and said, “I’m not a cop, Tommy. I’d really rather we do this in person.” I pressed down on my zipper and the budding erection stirring beneath it as excitement shot through me like a bullet. “Who said all we’d do is talk?”
At first I thought he would refuse. Then he let out an exasperated sigh and asked, “Where you at?” When I told him, he said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m warning you, this won’t be cheap.”
I assured him, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay your price.”
* * * *
He came through my door twenty minutes later, just when I was beginning to think he wouldn’t show. Same curls, same eyes, same pout as his sister. He wore a mesh top cropped above his navel and jeans low enough to show that he wore nothing underneath. A thin line of dusky hair peeked out above his fly and trailed over the flat of his stomach to peter out just below his top. When he hung his hands in his pockets, the jeans sagged lower, exposing narrow hips. Suddenly I felt hot under the collar—Tiffany’s picture didn’t do him justice.
As he glanced around the office, I considered not messing with him. Get to the point, get the answers to Tiffany’s questions, and jerk off to his picture later. I shouldn’t let myself take advantage of the situation. But those noble thoughts dissolved like snow in the sun of Tommy’s gaze when he finally looked my way. His tousled curls framed the face of a young god, one I wanted to kneel before and worship. With those eyes on me, I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “Tommy Murphy,” I drawled. “Someone is paying me a pretty penny to find you.”
“Well,” he said with a careless shrug, “here I am.”
He reached back and locked the door, the bolt sliding home with a loud click between us. Spurred into action, I stood up from my chair and edged around my desk to perch on the corner. I stared at Tommy like a hungry man, my whole body craving his touch. I wanted to stroke his wrist, strum my fingers across his flat belly, dive into him, eat him alive, swallow him down and savor each delicious bite. Leaning back against the door, Tommy tugged the jeans a little lower and grinned at me. “Like what you see?” I didn’t trust myself to speak. “So what do I call you?” he wanted to know. “Richard? Mr. Guy? Dick?”
“Anything you want,” I replied.
He simply laughed. More congenial than Tiffany, by far. “That’s my line.” As if on cue, the button on his fly popped open. Neat trick—it held me captivated. “You said you had some questions for me?”
“Questions can wait.” Sweat broke out across my back and I shrugged out of my blazer in an effort to cool down. My hands didn’t stop there—on their own, they began to unbutton my shirt. I liked the way his gaze followed them down to the waistband of my pants. Tugging the shirt free, I opened it for some air. How hot he made me! I leaned back on the desk, hoping to be seductive enough to make him want me, too. “What’s your going rate?” I asked.