Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
The only solid lead was a phone number we were able to connect to a Grindr account. When Tristan started getting weird vibes from the person on the other side of his yellow and blue chat bubbles, he reached out to Zane, and we were able to link the phone number with the account. Unfortunately, the number was on an untraceable burner phone, so we couldn’t use it to hunt the killer down, but it did give us the ability to go into the account and read through the messages.
Sure enough, all of the past victims were on there, along with many who stopped talking to the killer right before meeting up with them, unknowingly saving their own lives by ghosting the account. It wasn’t easy to read through, knowing that six of these people were now dead because of these very chats, but it was necessary. I went through that account with a fine-toothed comb, analyzing the way the killer spoke, trying to pick out any little details that might help me figure out who was behind this.
I pumped a handful of the coconut shampoo into my palm and soaped up my hair, dipping my head back and letting the water wash it all away, warm beads dropping down my back and easing some of the sore muscles in my back after this morning’s workout. I could hear Tristan walking past the bathroom, laughing at some dumb video he had pulled up on his phone.
When I’d taken this case, I hadn’t prepared myself to meet a man with a golden smile and a charming wit, two things that I was very attracted to. It absolutely didn’t hurt that Tristan had plenty of other qualities that I was attracted to: his big hands, his perfect teeth, his nice lips, his sexy legs, his suckable toes, his—
Fuck. Thinking of my charge just outside the bathroom door made my cock twitch. I ran a soapy hand over my hardening length.
Tristan was the kind of guy I stayed away from, only because he was the kind of guy I knew could destroy me if I let him. And I didn’t let anyone close enough to wield that kind of power over me. That’s why I liked having a handful of no-strings-attached hookups I could reach out to whenever I needed to blow off some steam. Keeping my dick separate from my emotions made my life easy. I’d seen firsthand what kind of trauma and pain a relationship gone wrong could inflict, so I decided at a pretty young age that I never wanted one to begin with.
I shook off the chill that climbed up my spine, battling with the warmth of the water. I continued to fist my now fully stiff cock. I squeezed around the head, slowly traveling down to the base, imagining my hand as Tristan’s instead. I shut my eyes and leaned against the wall, opening my legs, my grip getting tighter. I couldn’t let him close, so I had to make sure I wasn’t a horny mess the second I stepped out of the bathroom.
I had to let go. I had to empty my balls. I palmed them as they pulled up toward my body. A low sigh escaped my lips as I picked up the pace, jerking off faster, feeling my core tighten as my release came rushing toward me.
I bit my lip and blew, come shooting out onto the glass screen, mixing with the water and sliding down into the shower. I sucked in a deep breath, my body shivering from the momentary blast of pleasure and endorphins.
There. Now I could look Tristan in the eye and not worry about lust turning me feral.
At least for the next few hours.
I finished washing up, my still-swollen cock dripping as I stepped out of the shower. I grabbed my towel from off the wall and ran it up and down my body. Tristan’s bathroom wasn’t exactly the most organized and definitely needed a good deep cleaning, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. It seemed like he was already wilting under the pressure that came with being the target of a sadistic serial killer, along with whatever else he had going on in his life, and I didn’t want to add on to that in the slightest. My job here was to protect Tristan and to figure out the identity of this Midnight Chemist. Nothing more and nothing less.
But… well, I could at least wash the sink and toilet while I was in here. I crouched down and dug through the half-empty bottles of cleaning supplies he kept under his sink. I grabbed the Lysol and a scrub and got to work.
After about thirty minutes, Tristan’s bathroom looked brand-new. It smelled like lemon Pledge and bleach. I pushed open the small window that was above the toilet to let in some fresh air.