Crossroads Shadowland (4 page)

"You never miss a thing, so don't pretend
you didn't see the way Martin kept looking at me."

Frank shrugged. "Normal curiosity."

"Oh, yeah, why would he be curious about
me?"

"Look in a mirror."
Standing before room 510, Frank swiped the room
card through the metal box.

"Quaint," Rand said walking into the
room.

The second, queen-sized bed
sat near the twelve-pane window in the room that overlooked the
Courtyard below. An open armoire, complete with TV, DVD player and
sound system took up a corner of the room, and next to it
a wingback chair and desk. Mauve roses and white
hydrangeas graced the
heavy curtains and
matched several pictures on the wall of sweeping trellises
draped in twisting blossoms and vines. The
furniture was ornate, claw feet
and
old-world looking, with the same mahogany tint as the paneled
walls.

Frank gave a slight shiver.
Something about the walls reminded him of the picture he'd seen
moments ago in the photo album. "We've stepped into
New Orleans past I believe."

"I like the room; it's urbane and breathes
warmth."

Without warning, Frank's
cock grew hard. "Urbane. Doesn't that mean
suave, debonair?"

"Something like that." Rand
turned to him with a modest smile. "Is that a
hint? Do you want me, Frank?" Rand's gaze seized the bulge
straining Frank's
pants.

"Do you know when I don't?"

Rand sloughed the luggage
strap from his shoulder and set about
removing his shirt, one slow button at time. He paused and
looked at Frank,
the smoky green eyes
hungry with need.

"The pants, shoes, socks. Everything."

Rand took his time again,
his deliberate dawdle one of the things Frank
loved about him, that and his confidence, an unfaltering
awareness of what
cranked Frank's engine.
He didn't want Rand to know everything in that area
of their lives—knowledge held power. But what
Rand discovered along the
journey he'd
honed to perfection.

Frank's eyes lingered on
every hard plane and angle, a masterpiece. Tall
and lean like his father, the kid was all exotic looks and
unequivocal
magnificence. He brushed past
him on the way to the wingback and shucked his jeans, boxers, socks
and shoes. Frank eased into the chair and rolled his
head back, a silent command for Rand to join
him.

What Rand did next
surprised him. Opening the shoulder bag at his feet,
he retrieved a length of rope and a black
elongated scarf. Frank's pulse
accelerated
and a muscle in his groin clenched. Damn, he had to hand it to
the
punk. Rand knew how to rev him up like
a boar hog at breeding time.

Rand closed the curtains in
the room, effectuating a shadowy, soft
ambience similar to dusk. Perfect, Frank thought watching his
every move.

Like a match flaring, his eyes sparked.
"Hands behind your back."

Frank obliged and recalled
the time Rand snuck into his office with a
gun, tied him up and sucked him off. The images nearly
brought him out of the
chair. Rand's
shoulder brushed the collar of his shirt when he reached
down
and secured his hands behind the
chair, yanking hard on the binding for drama.

Dangling the scarf before him he said, "Take
a long look, Frank, before I pitch you into darkness."

Shivers ran down his spine
and mingled with a rush of desire. He closed
his eyes the moment the blindfold met his lashes and waited
through the
ensuing silence while Rand
tied it.

"Here's the deal." Frank imagined him
standing upright and directly in front of him, all hot sex and
thrill. "You can't move your hands—"

"No, shit."

"—I wasn't finished. You can't talk. Not.
One. Word."

"Oh, yeah? What happens if I do?"

"It's over. I don't have
the gun this time, but I'm still in control, right,
Frank?"

"Bastard."

"Right, Frank? You have to
agree to the rules, and there's no fucking up.
You utter a word, I stop."

"You think I have no power
over my faculties. Pretty sure of yourself,
aren't you?"

"Yep," he said low-voiced.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, you can moan, groan
and make those animal-like noises, you just can't speak an
intelligible word."

"You're on, smart ass. Let the game
begin."

Frank's heart thudded in
his chest. What man wouldn't want a lover that
went to great lengths to please him, put that element of
suspense and
challenge into their sexual
escapades? He thought about the nameless men
he'd banged before Rand entered his life. He could no longer
recall their faces,
not one feature or the
color of their hair. From the moment he'd found Rand
again after a five-year hiatus, every one-night
stand and short-term
relationship
evaporated like steam beneath a sauna door.

"Hang on; I need to make a
minor adjustment." The scarf loosened
before he tasted a ball of silk in his mouth. "That should
remind you not to
talk. But I can tell the
difference between words and moans."

Frank emitted a growl, not
even remotely close to a pleasured groan.
His short fuse didn't scare Rand anymore; wouldn't stop him
from taking this
charade up main street if
need be. Only once had Frank been bound, gagged
and at the mercy of another man. Rand exhilarated him now
like he had then.

Frank felt warm hands above
his knee-caps and sensed Rand lowering
himself to his knees. Christ, a slab of cement couldn't be
harder than his prick.

Heat stoked his erection,
Rand's fingers pausing near the cap to scrape his
short nails over the sensitive tip.

"Think about burying big
boy deep inside me Frank while I'm fondling
you. I have to say fondling, because I can't really jack you
off, not completely."
He leaned in, his
warm breath fanning his ear. "You're getting old; might not
be able to get it up right away
again."

Little prick.

The tortuous caresses of
his weeping cock continued. Deep in Frank's
gut the spasms rippled and shot up his engorged member. God,
the sensations
blew his mind. Rand's
gentle ministrations turned rough and his cock
responded like Pavlov's dog.

A velvety tongue licked the
crown and slid down the length of the
underside before teeth nipped his balls. A moan slipped from
Frank's mouth
from behind the gag, and
then a muffled curse.

"Was that a word?"

Frank shook his head.

"Sounded like it could have
been. Too close to call." Rand paused with a
chuckle before he struck with renewed vigor. He nibbled,
sucked and pulled,
wringing a series of
moans from Frank's lips. "Ah, you get off on that, don't
you?"

The game had started to
stir Frank's impatience, if not his anger. Rand
might choose to keep this up for a long time, and the need to
deep-hilt his tight
ass overwhelmed Frank.
On the other hand, if he spoke, the cocky asshole
might call the game.

Rand withdrew his mouth,
thank God, and slid onto his lap. "Figured I
better stop; the blood's rushing to the top and you're harder
than a tree trunk.
Want to fuck me now,
Frank? I want you to fuck me. Shit, do I want you to fuck
me."

Straddling him, Rand lifted
his hips and positioned his cock at his hole.
Sinful images surfaced and Frank had to wonder if they
weren't heightened
behind the
blindfold.

Rand squirmed once, drew a
deep breath and impaled himself on his
prick. Using his muscles, Rand moved up and down, rocked
forward and back
and panted through his
mouth. The need to be in control overpowered Frank.
A long-breathed moan escaped Rand's lips, and the
sound undid Frank.

He wasn't in deep enough,
didn't have the ability to bury his dick, hit the
sweet spot that drove Rand mindless. When Rand
banged his head on his
chest and dug his
fingers into his shoulders, the gig was up.

"Untie me," Frank said his
voice a distorted, muffled remnant of what it
once was.

He didn't have to ask
again. Hands reached around his sides and
grappled with the rope, freeing him in no time. Frank pulled
the gag from his mouth and rose with Rand still attached to his
cock. He walked to the bed and eased them down, inching Rand up the
middle of the mattress with his thrusts.

Finally in command, Frank
hugged Rand's hips with his knees and drove
in. A pleasurable cry spewed from Rand when Frank eased back,
left only the
crown, and slammed in again.
The muscles in Rand's body trembled when
Frank grabbed his cock and stroked the length. He ran his
thumb across the
top and exalted in the
slick cum oozing from the slit.

"Oh, God," Rand rasped and
his cock jerked in Frank's hand. "Can't wait
much longer."

Frank cupped his bottom and
set the tempo, repeating the rough plunge and retreat with Rand's
upward thrusts of his hips matching his. Rand's tight
insides convulsed, his muscles clenching Frank's
prick like a vise. Drowning in
the wet,
hot bliss of his lover, lights exploded behind Frank's eyes. Waves
of
dizzying pleasure surged through him,
and sweat streamed from his forehead.

Heaven. Pure heaven.

"Don't stop," Rand said. "Almost there,
don't stop."

"Open your eyes. I want to watch them as I
fuck you."

A prolonged moan filled the
air, Rand's, and then Frank's as they
reached their orgasms in sync. Shock registered somewhere in
Frank's foggy
brain. He could fuck Rand
until Kingdom Come and every time was more
mind-numbing than the last. He wrenched the last strains of
Rand's climax
from his damp body and
collapsed on top of him.

Long minutes later, his
breath still erratic, Frank eased out and flopped
onto the mattress beside him. "Jesus, maybe I am
getting too old."

"No," Rand whispered. "You're getting
better."

"I don't know about you, but after that, I
need to sleep."

Rand's voice sounded like he'd already
entered dreamland. "Uh-huh."

"Tomorrow, we get down to serious business,
so get some rest."

"Food," Rand murmured.

"We'll hit Stella's for
crawfish, jambalaya, and gumbo when we wake
up."

"Yum."

In short order, Rand's
rhythmic breathing drifted around Frank. How he
wished he could ditch the feeling of sick uncertainty from
his mind. Maybe
he'd been a bit
serendipitous hauling Rand along so soon.

He hadn't even met with the
parents or Sister Francoise to get a feel for
the case, yet the nagging, sinister force hounded him, called
to him from
beyond the grave. Damn, the
sooner he put order to what really happened to
the missing boys, the better the chances of finding them. He
closed his eyes, mimicked Rand's somnolent breathing and soon all
the muscles in his body
followed
suit.

Chapter Three

Frank sent Rand uptown to
meet with Sister Francoise with a promise
to meet him at a restaurant on Bourbon Street. Soon, Brent
and Charlie's
parents would arrive in the
Courtyard with recent photos, a list of their
favorite hangouts and their closest friends. Frank didn't
have a thing to tell
them yet, but he sure
intended to listen to their version of what happened to
their sons.

However, right now, he
needed a shower. He dug in the bureau drawer and laid out clean
clothes on the bed—a black T-shirt and faded jeans. Upon
entering the bathroom, he heard a knock on the
door, pivoted and walked
across the room.
A look through the peephole showed an empty hallway.
Certain someone had rapped, he shook his head.
Perhaps they had the wrong
room and moved
on.

He returned to the
bathroom, stripped down to his boxers, and turned
the hot and cold faucets on. Another knock at the
door rose above the sound of
water gushing
from the shower head.

"Son of a bitch," he bit
out under his breath and headed for the door
again.

Rather than look through
the peep hole this time, he unlocked the dead bolt and yanked the
door open, didn't give a damn if the entire housekeeping
staff stood on the other side.