His Soul to Take Read Online Free
Author: C.M. Torrens
Robert's eager lips opened to him, begging him to taste, and Death pulled him closer, his tongue exploring, devouring. The scent of him. The spicy splash of cologne mingled with a raw manly musk, so enticing. A deep ache of lust grew, spreading, building. Strong hands pulled him closer. He wanted....
Death gasped for breath and pulled away, stepping back from Robert. Clearing his throat, he took another breath to try and ease some of the hunger he hadn't felt in so long. This was too much. He had to think.
"I should go,” Death whispered.
Turning quickly he opened the door and left before he did something he'd regret.
* * * *
Robert sagged against the wall and let out a heavy sigh.
That was stupid. Stupid-stupid-stupid.
Not that he regretted anything about that kiss.
He touched his lips. Simon had tasted of winter. Like the fresh clean taste of new snow without the chill. He couldn't remember tasting anything quite like it before.
Still stupid. He barely knew the man. Didn't know his full name, his fucking phone number. Geez, he was such an idiot. Hadn't he just been thinking he wanted something more than a quick fuck?
Shaking his head, he picked up the groceries they had dropped by the door and carried them to the kitchen. The silence in his small apartment made Simon's disappearance feel all the heavier. He should have stopped him from going or asked him to stay for lunch.
He shoved the last of the groceries into the fridge and pulled out the newspaper, circling potential jobs in bright red ink. The silence in the apartment reminded him just how empty his place was.
The phone rang and Jerry launched into excited babble over his newest conquest. Some cop who'd been at the fire.
Robert let him rattle on about his new affair, glad not to have a reason to talk. The occasional grunts and other non-committal sounds were enough to let Jerry chatter on for hours. And anything concerning sex had Jerry unstoppable.
Robert flipped through the paper, his eyes drawn to a photo covering most of one page. A lone figure stood off to one side, almost hidden among the rescue workers. Long, dark, trench coat, straight dark hair... Simon? The image was too distant and distorted to tell. He squinted and blinked again, studying the photo in more detail. A seven-car pileup, three dead, six injured. The mangled wreckage bound two cars into one as firefighters worked the Jaws of Life to retrieve a victim.
He shook his head and tossed the paper aside, dismissing the photo.
"Did you go job hunting today?” Jerry finally asked when the tales of his exploits had wound down.
"Huh? What?"
"You said you'd be doing some job hunting today."
Robert turned his attention back to the conversation. “Yeah, I picked up a paper. There's an open call for auditions at one of the theaters tomorrow. They're looking for dancers. Maybe I'll get lucky."
"You need to get lucky.” Jerry snorted. “Your self-imposed celibacy makes my balls ache at the very thought."
Robert rolled his eyes. “Is that all you think about? Sex?"
"No, but life is a lot more fun when I do. I'm taking Officer Green—doesn't that just have a delicious ring to it?—out tonight. Wanna come?"
"And be a third wheel? I don't think so."
"Okay, just thought I'd offer.” Jerry said. “Oh, and Maxine's in the hospital. She wants you to pick her up some magazines."
"I didn't realize she was hurt."
"Just a small burn. I think they're releasing her from the hospital tomorrow. Wanted to make sure she was okay after inhaling all that smoke."
"All right. I'll grab a few magazines and head on over there."
The conversation wound down and Robert hung up the phone. The steady tick of the clock over the old TV drifted through the living room. He studied the room and sighed. Worn furniture with one too many stains filled the apartment, a TV so old half the buttons were missing, the mismatched end tables all handed down from Jerry or yard sale finds. The only thing of value was the
Death gasped for breath and pulled away, stepping back from Robert. Clearing his throat, he took another breath to try and ease some of the hunger he hadn't felt in so long. This was too much. He had to think.
"I should go,” Death whispered.
Turning quickly he opened the door and left before he did something he'd regret.
* * * *
Robert sagged against the wall and let out a heavy sigh.
That was stupid. Stupid-stupid-stupid.
Not that he regretted anything about that kiss.
He touched his lips. Simon had tasted of winter. Like the fresh clean taste of new snow without the chill. He couldn't remember tasting anything quite like it before.
Still stupid. He barely knew the man. Didn't know his full name, his fucking phone number. Geez, he was such an idiot. Hadn't he just been thinking he wanted something more than a quick fuck?
Shaking his head, he picked up the groceries they had dropped by the door and carried them to the kitchen. The silence in his small apartment made Simon's disappearance feel all the heavier. He should have stopped him from going or asked him to stay for lunch.
He shoved the last of the groceries into the fridge and pulled out the newspaper, circling potential jobs in bright red ink. The silence in the apartment reminded him just how empty his place was.
The phone rang and Jerry launched into excited babble over his newest conquest. Some cop who'd been at the fire.
Robert let him rattle on about his new affair, glad not to have a reason to talk. The occasional grunts and other non-committal sounds were enough to let Jerry chatter on for hours. And anything concerning sex had Jerry unstoppable.
Robert flipped through the paper, his eyes drawn to a photo covering most of one page. A lone figure stood off to one side, almost hidden among the rescue workers. Long, dark, trench coat, straight dark hair... Simon? The image was too distant and distorted to tell. He squinted and blinked again, studying the photo in more detail. A seven-car pileup, three dead, six injured. The mangled wreckage bound two cars into one as firefighters worked the Jaws of Life to retrieve a victim.
He shook his head and tossed the paper aside, dismissing the photo.
"Did you go job hunting today?” Jerry finally asked when the tales of his exploits had wound down.
"Huh? What?"
"You said you'd be doing some job hunting today."
Robert turned his attention back to the conversation. “Yeah, I picked up a paper. There's an open call for auditions at one of the theaters tomorrow. They're looking for dancers. Maybe I'll get lucky."
"You need to get lucky.” Jerry snorted. “Your self-imposed celibacy makes my balls ache at the very thought."
Robert rolled his eyes. “Is that all you think about? Sex?"
"No, but life is a lot more fun when I do. I'm taking Officer Green—doesn't that just have a delicious ring to it?—out tonight. Wanna come?"
"And be a third wheel? I don't think so."
"Okay, just thought I'd offer.” Jerry said. “Oh, and Maxine's in the hospital. She wants you to pick her up some magazines."
"I didn't realize she was hurt."
"Just a small burn. I think they're releasing her from the hospital tomorrow. Wanted to make sure she was okay after inhaling all that smoke."
"All right. I'll grab a few magazines and head on over there."
The conversation wound down and Robert hung up the phone. The steady tick of the clock over the old TV drifted through the living room. He studied the room and sighed. Worn furniture with one too many stains filled the apartment, a TV so old half the buttons were missing, the mismatched end tables all handed down from Jerry or yard sale finds. The only thing of value was the
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