PsyCop 6: GhosTV by Jordan Castillo Price Read Free Book Online

dumbass in the mirror. He spattered my belly while I came, and that made my hips twitch up even after I thought I was spent, and my dick gave another grudging throb in his hole.
    Jacob pressed his forehead to mine, sticky with sweat, and we both breathed hard. “That was really intense,” I said. “You feel incredible.”
    “Yeah?”

    “Yeah.” I tilted my face up for a kiss. His mouth tasted salty.
    He eased his death grip off the towel bar and ran his fingers through my way cool hair. “I love you so much.”
    “I love you too.” It seems like there should be a better answer than that, but sometimes it doesn’t pay to try and talk fancy.
    I kissed him some more, slow, satisfied kisses, drowsy kisses. It seemed like I could have stayed there forever, kissing him. But then I felt his thigh tremble. “Are you not sitting down on me?”
    “Well I….” He looked surprised.
    “Do you think you can’t sit on my lap?”
    “No. Of course not. It’s just…we’re at a weird angle. That’s all.” I sighed. I didn’t need to be a Human Polygraph to know that people who said “of course not” were unlikely to be giving you much of a truth.
    He stood up fast and offered me a hand-up. I couldn’t not take it without shoving him into the shower and cracking his head on the not-quite-retro tiles. I was feeling mildly ticked, not sociopathic, so I accepted.
    “I thought maybe the toilet seat was digging into you.”
    “Forget it.”
    He turned on the shower, and the sound of water ringing on tile filled the awkward silence nicely. “Don’t be mad,” Jacob said over the rhythmic stream. “We just had a really great time. There’s nothing to be mad about.”
    “It’s fine.”
    He stuck his hand under the shower, tweaked the temperature, then climbed in and pulled me along with him. He hustled me against the wall and started in again with the kissing, and maybe I was irked enough to tell him enough with it already, we’d shot our loads and what more did he want—other than someone athletic enough to bear his weight? But as I planted my foot and tried to pivot, I felt a horrible twinge race up my calf.
    Jacob’s mouth closed over mine, and now he tasted like the shower.
    I kissed him back, reluctantly at first, but then he slid a bar of soap between my legs and started making lather, and I decided I could stay put for the moment.
    At least until the charley horse subsided.

Chapter 5
    Since Jacob now had over an inch of hair, he also owned styling products. Things had changed a lot since the eighties, when I’d primped my hair with office supplies. The cramp in my leg was nagging at me, so I decided to burn a sick day rather than letting the jackasses like Raleigh down the hall see me limping. Jacob was at work, I’d actually slept in for a change, and now I was home alone with my new haircut.
    I rifled through the medicine cabinet. There was hairspray, but supposedly for “shine” rather than “hold,” in a tiny little spritzer bottle.
    I also found a small round jar of something with the consistency of pudding. That was it—two things. Undoubtedly, if Jacob had more hair, we’d have more hair stuff. I figured the hair pudding would have to do.
    I took a very small dab and worked it through my hair like Crash had, fully expecting to look ridiculous when I was done.
    I didn’t. It looked great.
    I wondered if working out, especially if I followed that workout with some kind of stretching, might help the calf situation. But you didn’t do your hair and then jump around and get it all sweated up—everyone knows that. Besides, I didn’t actually have any idea what “working out” would entail. So I went and turned on my computer instead.
    If I put together a plan of action for bulking up, it would be a step in the right direction. And it wouldn’t wreck my hair.

    Sifting through websites took time. A lot of them pimped home gyms, or weird pieces of plastic that were supposed to help you push,