No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written
permission from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or
locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used
fictitiously. This is an explicit and erotic novel intended for the enjoyment of adult readers only.
The crime scene unit trudged through the hospitals corridors, and the rubber soles of their
boots squeaked with every step on the polished floor. Malia walked ahead of her crew, carrying
the brown paper bags that held the different vials and various objects that had littered the dead
patient’s half of the room. She lifted the carrier high and watched the garish play of light and
shadow move across the sack while pushing her bangs back from her face with her forearm. The
tray was light as opposed to the heaviness that weighed in her belly. This was the fifth death in
two weeks, and this last one was the husband of a good friend. He’d been admitted for minor
knee surgery; a simple outpatient procedure. He never left Gold Star Regional Medical Center.
She snorted, at least not alive.
Malia glanced over her shoulder and down the passage way at her best friend. Elise sat in an
office chair in the middle of the obnoxiously bright hallway, her face buried in her hands. Her
wails had calmed down to mere whimpers, and her shoulders only shuddered slightly as she
sobbed. Malia was sure someone had given her a sedative. An attendant stood close, his arms
crossed. He stood over her like some sentinel, there to ensure that her friend didn’t do anything
foolish, like rush back into the room and try and climb into bed with her dead spouse as she’d
The pain in Malia’s chest sharpened, stabbing her insides like hundreds of little knives. She
had no choice but to do her job, and the only opportunity to hug Elise had been when she’d first
arrived on the scene. That was after she’d gently tugged her friend off her husband’s body and
helped her up from the cold, linoleum floor she’d crumpled onto. There was nothing more she
could do at that moment. As head of the CSI unit, Malia had a job to do first, and the situation
was getting desperate.
She nodded to the staff that sat in the circular nurses’ station. Some looked down the hall
toward the room of the latest death with glassy eyed stares, others chatted quietly amongst
themselves. They all shared a uniform look of confusion. Stopping, Malia leaned over the dark
Malia set the tray on the Formica surface and pulled a pen and small notebook from her
pocket. Jotting down the names and number to Elise’s parents, she pushed the paper toward the
nurse. “Please call them, they’re her parents.”
With a brief nod, the attendant pulled the paper toward her and reached for the phone. Malia
lifted her lips in a hint of a smile to offer her thanks. One last look in the direction of her
catatonic friend, her shoulders slumped. With a soft sigh, Malia picked up the tray and continued
on to the elevator.
Paul stared into the microscope. He raised his head and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes,
before letting them fall back in to place. Leaning down, he gazed through the eye-piece again.
The cells he gawked at were misshapen and discolored. He knew it was poison, but every test
he’d instituted had come up negative for the plethora of elements he’d been running the tissue
against. Other than the cells abnormality, the dead man lying in his morgue was perfectly
healthy; just like the others. Five males, from different backgrounds, whose only common
denominator was they all had some sort of surgery at Gold Star Medical.
And, therein lied the problem; he had a morgue full of bodies that exhibited the exact same
signs of death. A medical impossibility, no two people died precisely the same way. To have five
people expire in the exact condition threw his office into a maelstrom of accusations. His
secretary was screening calls from the local media. And somehow a major news network was
sniffing at his agency’s door. That morning, a syndicated crime show started calling and
continued to call every hour, on the hour, looking for a quote. Earlier, he’d heard some of the
other assistants whispering in the corner of the break room about mishandling of the bodies.
The headlines from the local paper screamed in big, black, bold letters that Gold Star
Regional Medical Center should be known as Death Star Hospital. Television channel reporters
in white vans with huge dishes attached to the roofs were lining the small town’s roads, vying for
space to make their news casts. Paul reached over and began pulling drawers out to rifle through
them. Somewhere in this cabinet he had to have a cigarette, or at the very least, a stick of gum.
When he found nothing in his work space, Paul sucked in a breath and patted his pockets for
a packof gum. He wouldn’t have given up cigarettes as his New Year’s resolution, had he’d
known this was coming. This was his case from the beginning, the very first questionable death,
yet he still had no answers for the head coroner. The public wanted answers, and Paul had no
doubt pressure to solve the serial killings was being placed on the Chief of Police and Mayor.
With no answer to offer, he was basically fucked six ways to Sunday. Politically speaking,
eventually, those people would need a scape goat to explain why the case hadn’t been unraveled.
At the moment he was the one common denominator everyone could point at after the fact.
He felt the caress of small hands glide across his shoulders. Slim, deft finger kneaded the
tense muscles in his neck. Paul tilted his head, and rubbed his hair roughened cheek against the
soft skin at the back of his lover’s hand. One touch from Malia elicited an instantaneous response
from his body. He should be more concerned about the way his department was being reflected
as incompetent, or the accusations of impropriety. But even a simple glance from his girlfriend
could set his cock at attention and send his reason out the window. He swiveled his stool around
to face her, pulling out of her loose grip,.
“I can’t check up on my man? I’m lonely in our bed. It’s been days since we’ve connected
without a phone line between us.” She cupped his cheek before pulling the square spectacles
from his face and laying them on the counter. “Besides, Rich dying has me a bit rattled. When I
left Elise’s house all I wanted to do was talk to you … in person.”
Paul pulled her hand from his face and intertwined their fingers, noting the sharp contrast of
her creamy brown digits against his pale white ones. Too many days spent locked up in the
morgue instead of out in the sun with Malia. But there was always some task that needed to be
done. The Head Coroner trusted him, and he hated the idea of failing her. Especially since she
gave him a chance straight out of medical school, when everywhere else he’d applied told him he
needed more experience.
opened his mouth on a sigh, and her tongue pushed past his lips to tangle with
his. Paul slipped his arms around her waist, tugging her between the vee of his thighs. Splaying
his hands across her ass, he held her flush against him. The heat of her pussy bled through her
clothes and warmed his crotch. He slanted his head, anxious to plunder more of her mouth while
his fingers dug into the light cotton of her jeans.
Malia lifted her head, breathing hard. “Paul, now would be a good time to…umm… work in
youroffice.” She waggled her brows and wiggled against him, rubbing a generous hip on his
rock hard erection.
He stood, towering over her. The wanton look of lust on her face was all the invitation he
needed. Her peanut butter complexion flushed a faint pink. She stared up at him through
shuttered lids, partially hiding her expressive chocolate brown eyes. Her shiny lips were slightly
swollen. Wisps of hair had pulled away from her puff ponytail, and tight black curls sprung up at
various places on her scalp. He had yet to tell her he loved her, but every time they were together
he made a point to show her with his body how much he cared. Being with Malia was like
waking up to a new adventure every day, and short of asking her, he still hadn’t quite figured out
why she was with him.
She reached behind her, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, and pulled him with her as
she walked toward his office. He stared at her luscious backside as they crossed his lab. Her
belt strained to hold her pants on her waist, and the two round orbs that made her butt cheeks
bounced as she moved.
but he loved her ass.
The glass door shook from the power of her thrust, bouncing off the wall behind it. Paul
caught the barrier, firmly closing it behind him. He dropped the shades before he followed
behind her. Yanking on her arm, he twirled her around and drew her up against him, walking her
backward. Only stopping when she could move no farther, and the squeak of his desk inching
over the floor reached his ears. A hard kiss to Malia’s lips, and then Paul spun her around to face
the heavy metal furniture. His dick pressed against the slope of her generous buttocks. He slid his
palms up alongher curves and reached around her form to cup a breast in each palm. Malia’s
head fell back against his chest. Her thick, raven-colored hair tickled his chin.
Sliding his palms underneath the fabric, he grazed his fingertips up along her ribcage. Malia
rammed back into his body, giggling as she tried to escape his touch. He wrapped his arms
around her, holding her in place, and then he put his mouth on her neck, sucking the smooth skin
between his teeth. Soft moans drifted from her lips as she reached back to grab his head and
combed her fingers through his hair. He made his way across her shoulder in a series of open
mouth kisses as he pushed her top off. She rolled her hips, rubbing up against him. His dick
throbbed, thumping against the zipper of his slacks.
d past her. In one sweep, half of the desk’s contents crashed to the floor.
Oblivious to the sounds of the falling objects, he straightened and reached for the waistband of
The small lamp on the corner wobbled precariously on the edge. Tipping over as they
bumped against the furniture in his urgency to get her jeans loose; the small room was thrown
into partial darkness. Fractured beams aimed at them through the split shade. Their shadows
loomed over them on the wall as Paul dropped to his haunches and snatched her pants down with
him, pressing a quick kiss on her butt cheek. He rose behind her and bent her over the glass inset
on his desk.
Paul dug into his back pocket, rooting for the condom he’d placed there. Jerking his pants
loose, he shoved them down over his pelvis. He pulled his hand away, and his slacks fell around
his knees. His cock pushed through the flap of his boxer briefs. He slid them off his hips and
rolled the condom over his throbbing dick.
Malia rose up on her elbows, looking at him over her shoulder. Her ass shook before his
eyes as she went up and down on her toes. Groaning he flattened his palm in the middle of her
back and pressed down, stepping between her thighs to slide into her warm, wet depths. He
withdrew from her body almost completely, leaving just his cockhead hovering at her vaginal
opening, before thrusting into her again. Paul drove deep, lifting her off her feet with every thrust
he made, forming a rhythm. The walls of her pussy pulsed around his cock. His balls tingled. A
moan hung on his lips; every time he sheathed himself in her body, it felt like a homecoming.