Like an adolescent male opening up a nudie magazine for the first time, Carson grasped his dick and pumped his hand up and down his shaft, thinking of the one and only woman he’d been able to conjure up in the last few weeks.
He wasn’t ashamed of taking himself to pleasure. He was a hot-blooded male with a pretty large sexual appetite, and he’d been watching Sienna Flower week in and week out with very little release.
Taking himself over the edge had recently become his greatest pastime with a mental Rolodex of images of Sienna onstage, but it was doing less and less when it came to his sexual hunger. The more he jerked himself off, the greater the need he felt to sink deep inside the woman he only recently began to think of as more than sexual eye candy.
His palm was working fast and rough on his dick, and before he could control himself, he came all over his hand to the mental images of a mouth-watering and dick-hardening adult dancer.
When he stepped into the shower to clean up, his dick was rock hard again. The only choice he had was to lean up against the wall and rub another one out, or turn the water temperature freezing cold.
Leaning up against the tile in the shower with the hot water beating down his back, Carson wrapped his hand around himself for the second time that evening. This was getting to be ridiculous. He wasn’t really that big a fan of beating off, but something about Sienna and her eyes pulled him in…all the way in.
He didn’t want to go down to the bar and seek the company of someone else. He wanted her. Only her. This was definitely a first.
After relieving himself twice, Carson tossed and turned for a few hours before getting up and working on his current case a little.
He called back east, where he knew some of his contacts would be hard at work already. He pressed the speed dial on his phone for Rich, a fellow PI, and didn’t bother to say hello when he answered.
“You ever work with cults? People you just don’t get? Maybe don’t even want to get? That’s what I got going on here in hell. Talk to me.”
Rich chuckled. “Hello to you, Carson, too. Yeah, I worked with some people out toward the Amish community. Fuck, they’re weird, but those psychos were rolling in the dough. Made it worth my while.”
Carson scratched his head, messing his hair while thinking of what he wanted to say next. “Starting to think my recent case with my very own sect of weirdness is not worth my while. Not only is it a huge time suck with no end in sight, but the shit is fucking with my head, making me do things I’d never ordinarily do. Like date.”
“Uh, buddy, what do you want to do? Talk like we’re high school chicks going to the prom? No way.” Rich snorted. “As for your case, run it by the big dogs at the Bureau.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nah. Too early to admit defeat and ask for their help. Thanks, Rich. You’ve been a dreamboat. Remind me to call Ray next time.”
Rich laughed good-naturedly, then disconnected the call.
Carson’s zigzag thinking moved to how he’d acted like a teenage boy the night before, and he decided to do something to get himself in check. How many times could he masturbate? He was going to get calluses on his hand and his cock.
So he hit the hotel workout room with a vengeance. He went for double his usual workout, grabbed a protein drink, and was shocked when he wasn’t one bit exhausted. He was practically buzzing with energy.
In an effort to kill time and his raging hard-on, Carson decided to do some more work until it was time to meet Sienna. He was starting to despise his current case, and looking it over was like dumping a bucket of cold water on his erection. He reviewed the notes he’d made when he initially met with his client.
Call the big dogs? No way in hell.
Originally, he’d thought this was going to be a cake case. Find missing person, deliver to family, collect money, and move on. Instead, he wasn’t one bit closer to finding the victim.
But was the person really a victim? Or were they just seeking a different life than the fucking cult family who’d hired him?
He needed to make a visit back east to collect more details. What they gave him was shit, and he was starting to think he’d been set up. He had the strangest feeling that someone, a third party, was planting information in their minds, leading them on, and screwing with his investigation.
They were wasting their money and his time. Time he could be spending watching Sienna.
Noon approached quickly as Carson was deep in thought over his next course of action in his current assignment. Sunday night, he planned to start researching what he wanted to do next. Monday, he would go back east and make arrangements to see the client. He couldn’t call them now; that would be a waste of time. They wouldn’t answer on their weekend.