He reeled in delight.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Kinzer said. He snatched his wrist and then seized the other, pressing them against the mattress.
Lyle looked at him in shock.
“You’re gonna come like this.” Spit trailed behind Kinzer’s words and collected on Lyle’s cheek.
Kinzer rocked his pelvis back and forth. Powerfully. Intensely. As if attempting to reach so deep inside his victim he would be able to cause a serious injury.
His lips met Lyle’s nipple. He tickled it with his tongue, ran it in circles, working to tease him. His expertise with mortals and immortals was too powerful for Lyle to fight. Soon, cum streaked across his dirty-blond happy trail, a wad settling in the dips of his abs just above his navel.
He breathed hard, his body shivering as it surely struggled to enjoy the ecstasy while surviving the pain of Kinzer being so deep within him.
***
“You more than earned this,” Lyle said. He rose from a crouching position on the floor, holding a sheet of paper he’d retrieved from his bag. He crawled onto the bed to Kinzer, who sat on the edge of the mattress, staring off.
He felt disgusting. Dirty.
Lyle wrapped his arms around him, handed him the sheet, and kissed his shoulder softly.
The kiss gave Kinzer goose bumps. It made him feel like Lyle was going to ask if they could be boyfriends. Kinzer glanced at the paper.
“You sure it’s him?”
“Positive. He worked under several different names. Real one’s Carl. He’s at a hospital in Houston. Been there for the past few weeks. I told you I could findanyone.”
Kinzer turned to him and smiled, a large, phony smile. He kissed him and pulled back quickly.
“Thanks,” he said curtly.
Lyle stroked Kinzer’s arms, his gaze begging for another sexual encounter. He kissed the back of his neck softly.
It was too much for Kinzer. He hopped up, retrieved his jeans off the floor, and slid them on. His dick shook about, flapping against his legs until he tucked it in his jeans and pulled them the rest of the way up.
Lyle looked disappointed. Like he was hoping for so much more.
Kinzer grabbed his shirt and headed into the bathroom.
“Hey,” Lyle said, jumping off the mattress and racing after him. “When will I see you again?”
Kinzer picked up his bag and gave Lyle a disapproving glare. “Really?” he asked. “Grow up, kid.”
He regretted calling him kid. The name evoked the memory of someone he respected. Someone he cared about. Someone whose life he’d destroyed.
He shook it off and abandoned the motel. As he walked through the parking lot, he pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed.
“Maggie,” he said. “Meet me on Cheshire and Piedmont.”
***
Maggie crossed under a bridge.
She’d been down the street at a small bookshop, having some coffee and relaxing into a fashion magazine, trying to forget what Kinzer was doing. Then she’d received his call. The deed was done, and she hoped the information he’d received had been worth it.
She spotted Kinzer, his head hung low, his hands in his pockets, his duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. She turned on her blinker, pulled alongside the road, and rolled down the car window.
“Need a lift?” she joked.
