Page 59 of Hoodoo House
“I wouldn’t say that,” Declan replied.
“Survey companies would be thrilled to have your sample size—oh my God!” Charlie realized he had basically called Declan a whore. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m a terrible person and—”
Declan put his finger on Charlie’s lips. “Shhh. You’re working yourself up over nothing. You were perfect. And do you know why? Because you’re Charlie Watts. No one else can claim that. And if you’re worried about technique…no one, and I mean no one has fucked me like that.”
“Really?”
“This is gonna sound weird,” Declan said, “but you did it with your whole body and soul. Most guys do it like they’re jerking off. They do it just to come. You…you did it like you wanted to be a part of me, and that was special.”
Charlie looked up at Declan. “Since you brought up the subject of skill, how did you get the condom on my cock? I certainly didn’t do it.”
Declan smiled. “We all have our secrets.”
Charlie looked at him and raised a single eyebrow.
Declan finally confessed, “I popped it in my mouth after I got undressed. When I went down on you, I unrolled it as I went. Something I learned to do to protect myself a long time ago.”
“That must have taken a lot of practise.” Charlie rolled on top of Declan and stared at him intently.”
Declan just smiled mysteriously.
Charlie pointed to the scar that cut through Declan’s left eyebrow. “How did you get that?”
“That was when I was thrown into an open car door in my first week of police training.”
“And that?” Charlie asked, stroking a three-centimetre-long scar between two ribs on Declan’s right side.
“A knife. A junkie did that to me in a back alley when I was trying to get to his friend who was OD’ing.”
Charlie sucked in air at the thought of it. “Ouch. How about that one?” he said, tracing his index finger around a broad, shiny ten-centimetre scar on Declan’s inner right calf.
“That was my own fault. I got that when I learned how hot a motorcycle exhaust pipe can get. Let that be a lesson to you—always wear long pants when you get on a bike. So, how about you?”
Declan pushed Charlie flat on his back. “You’ve gotta have war wounds somewhere. There,” he said, pointing to Charlie’s lower abdomen.
“Appendix. Hardly what I’d call a war wound.”
Declan leaned down and kissed it, then began to tickle Charlie until he was hysterical with laughter again.
Declan’s phone rang.
“Ignore it,” Declan said. “I’m only interested in you right now.”
Charlie looked over and noticed the caller ID. It was four letters. “I think you should take this.”
Declan looked at the caller ID and scowled. “I need you to take this. Answer like you would if you were in the office.”
Charlie nodded, then answered. “Declan Hunt Investigations. Charlie Watts speaking. How may I help you?”
Declan slid down the bed and started nibbling on Charlie’s toes.
“Is Declan Hunt there, please?” a voice asked.
“I’m afraid he can’t come to the phone at the moment,” Charlie said, trying to control his breathing as Declan went to town.
“This is Sergeant Kaci Bowen from the RCMP, Drumheller detachment. We understand that Mr Hunt has been involved with an investigation at Hoodoo House, near Rosebud.”
“Yes, we, I mean, Mr Hunt was working there.” Charlie’s voice went up an octave as Declan did something magical with his tongue.
