Read Online PsyCop 1: Among the Living by Jordan Castillo Price - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jordan Castillo Price
Tags: mm
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me,” I said, and it hardly even sounded like my own voice saying something so porno. He reached a hand around the front of me just enough to press my stiff cock downward and aim it between my thighs, toward his mouth. He led with his chin and could hardly reach me, but my whole body bucked against the glass when he dragged his lower lip over my cockhead, swirled at it with his tongue, and teased my slit between long, leisurely sucks of the tip.
“Please, oh God. Please do it deep.”
He slid his hot mouth from me and then flipped me around, one strong hand keeping me from tripping over the wad of clothing at my feet. “That’s right,” he said, caressing the side of my cock with his cheek. “I want to look up into your face while you come.”
And then my awkwardness increased exponentially as I realized Jacob Marks was gonna stare at me while my cock sank into his throat. He was gorgeous—simply beautiful. The most handsome man I’d ever been with, that I ever even dreamed I’d be with. And yet it was easier to spread myself wide open and half naked on that damn window than it was to look into his eyes.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the rhythm he set, on the exquisite suction he maintained and the way he opened his throat every few strokes to take me all the way in. But then I heard a murmur of distant laughter—maybe just some tourists on the lake, but maybe not—and I opened my eyes again to keep myself with Marks, anchored in the present, among the living.
I grabbed his short hair, struggling to find something to hold on to, and he grasped me by the hips and sucked hard. My whole body tensed, poised on a painful brink, and then everything crashed open, my hips bucking as Marks rode out my orgasm. His fingers sank deep into my hipbones with a force that’d leave bruises.
Marks pulled off slowly and gave my wet, red cockhead a lingering lick while I stared down at him, dazed. He looked up at me for a long moment, and then kissed it again. And licked it. I pulled back from him, quelling the need to giggle at the sensitivity. “Stop it, Marks. You’re killing me.”
He sat back on his heels, still fully clothed, and licked his lips. “Why don’t you call me Jacob?” he suggested.
Chapter 10
Marks—Jacob, I mean—snores a little. I think I was relieved to learn it. If he was absolutely perfect, I’d have to be suspicious.
I woke around six, and while it would’ve been nice to get a few more hours in, I was surprised to have slept as soundly as I had. I hadn’t spent a night in another man’s bed since…I thought back. Maybe eight years earlier. That college professor who was always high—on weed, not Auracel. That was back before they even made Auracel and I’d needed to take Neurozamine with a Benadryl chaser to shut out the voices.
Eight years. I felt old. Jacob mumbled a little, as if my stirring had bothered him, and then rolled onto his back and settled into the long, slow breaths of deep sleep.
I stared at his gorgeous profile and told myself, yet again, that I was actually sleeping with him and that he’d been the one to initiate it. Maybe I’d just been poised for a little good luck. It was about time.
I’d showered and made a pot of coffee by the time Jacob shuffled out of his bedroom in nothing but a pair of blue paisley boxers. “It’s seven o’clock,” he said, squinting. “Are you crazy?”
“They did treat me for schizophrenia for a couple of years before they figured out I was talking to real dead people,” I replied. I’d meant it as a joke, but it’d come out kind of edgy.
Jacob looked me in the eye for a long moment before he sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Well, you’re not a kid in an institution anymore,” he said. He took a sip of the coffee and winced, then scooped a few spoonfuls of sugar into it. “You’re a cop. You can speed. You can carry a gun. You can tell other people what to do and they’d damn well better do
“Please, oh God. Please do it deep.”
He slid his hot mouth from me and then flipped me around, one strong hand keeping me from tripping over the wad of clothing at my feet. “That’s right,” he said, caressing the side of my cock with his cheek. “I want to look up into your face while you come.”
And then my awkwardness increased exponentially as I realized Jacob Marks was gonna stare at me while my cock sank into his throat. He was gorgeous—simply beautiful. The most handsome man I’d ever been with, that I ever even dreamed I’d be with. And yet it was easier to spread myself wide open and half naked on that damn window than it was to look into his eyes.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the rhythm he set, on the exquisite suction he maintained and the way he opened his throat every few strokes to take me all the way in. But then I heard a murmur of distant laughter—maybe just some tourists on the lake, but maybe not—and I opened my eyes again to keep myself with Marks, anchored in the present, among the living.
I grabbed his short hair, struggling to find something to hold on to, and he grasped me by the hips and sucked hard. My whole body tensed, poised on a painful brink, and then everything crashed open, my hips bucking as Marks rode out my orgasm. His fingers sank deep into my hipbones with a force that’d leave bruises.
Marks pulled off slowly and gave my wet, red cockhead a lingering lick while I stared down at him, dazed. He looked up at me for a long moment, and then kissed it again. And licked it. I pulled back from him, quelling the need to giggle at the sensitivity. “Stop it, Marks. You’re killing me.”
He sat back on his heels, still fully clothed, and licked his lips. “Why don’t you call me Jacob?” he suggested.
Chapter 10
Marks—Jacob, I mean—snores a little. I think I was relieved to learn it. If he was absolutely perfect, I’d have to be suspicious.
I woke around six, and while it would’ve been nice to get a few more hours in, I was surprised to have slept as soundly as I had. I hadn’t spent a night in another man’s bed since…I thought back. Maybe eight years earlier. That college professor who was always high—on weed, not Auracel. That was back before they even made Auracel and I’d needed to take Neurozamine with a Benadryl chaser to shut out the voices.
Eight years. I felt old. Jacob mumbled a little, as if my stirring had bothered him, and then rolled onto his back and settled into the long, slow breaths of deep sleep.
I stared at his gorgeous profile and told myself, yet again, that I was actually sleeping with him and that he’d been the one to initiate it. Maybe I’d just been poised for a little good luck. It was about time.
I’d showered and made a pot of coffee by the time Jacob shuffled out of his bedroom in nothing but a pair of blue paisley boxers. “It’s seven o’clock,” he said, squinting. “Are you crazy?”
“They did treat me for schizophrenia for a couple of years before they figured out I was talking to real dead people,” I replied. I’d meant it as a joke, but it’d come out kind of edgy.
Jacob looked me in the eye for a long moment before he sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Well, you’re not a kid in an institution anymore,” he said. He took a sip of the coffee and winced, then scooped a few spoonfuls of sugar into it. “You’re a cop. You can speed. You can carry a gun. You can tell other people what to do and they’d damn well better do
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