8 - There dwells a spirit, waiting to be released

“Yesss…” Merlyn wanted, craved, the hot mouth that was teasing his cock unmercifully. He needed nothing more than to arch up between those full lips, to plunge deeply through them and bury himself in the tightness of his tormentor’s throat. But he could not. He had been ordered not to move by the male whose face was still a mystery to him. By a soft but authoritative voice that caressed him with words just as the male’s hands caressed his body until every nerve ending was on fire.

“Please… more…” he begged.

The sound of the phone came distantly to his ears, unceasing in its demand to be answered. He fought its clarion call, wanting to remain in the dream. That was not to be.

“This had better be damned important,” he growled in angry frustration when his searching hand finally landed on it and he answered. His other hand gripped his rampant cock; stroking it as he sought the release he’d been denied.

“Merlyn Knight?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Yes,” was his muttered reply, followed by a low, barely restrained cry of release.

“I’m sorry to bother you sir. This is Detective Jonas with the Portsmouth police department. I’m outside. I need to talk to you.”

“About?” Merlyn grabbed some tissues from the box by his bed, trying to clean up the cum that covered his chest and hand.

“I’d prefer to tell you in person. I’ll wait while you get dressed.”

A quick glance at the clock told Merlyn why the detective thought he needed to. It was three in the morning.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll let you in.” Hanging up, Merlyn hurried to the bathroom to finish cleaning up and run a hand through his tangled hair. Then he threw on a pair of jeans and a ratty tank. Barefooted he went to open the front door.

A well-built, medium tall, dark-haired woman stood there holding out a badge. Merlyn took a brief glance at it before letting her inside. “So what’s going on?” he asked, leaning against the wall as he looked at her.

“You are acquainted with a Mr Alton Weber I believe.”

A cold bolt of dread raced through Merlyn. “He’s my best, perhaps my only friend. Why?”

“His body was found at approximately one-thirty this morning, sprawled in the entranceway to his gallery. He was killed by one shot to his head.”

“Fuck no! You’re sure it’s him? It can’t be. I saw him about, damn it five hours ago. He was fine then.” Merlyn felt tears well up in his eyes and wiped them away.

“Yes sir, we’re quite certain. His wallet was still in his pocket.”

“Oh. Yes. Well… So it wasn’t a robbery.” Disbelief warred with acceptance in Merlyn’s mind.

“No sir.”