The Devil's Cum in His Eye

By James Cox

Cop by day, erotic writer by night, stripper on the weekends, and Tomkin Coburn just found a dead body in his bedroom. But which occupation lead to murder?

Coburn has his teenage son in tow and a detective that seems to be interested in his butt as well as his innocence. He’ll do anything to protect his kid and the intense feelings he has for Detective Luke Early. The evidence quickly mounts against Coburn—murder weapon, body fluids, and oh yeah, no one in the world seems to know who the dead guy is.

Together, Coburn and Luke find themselves in the path of a killer, but can they unravel the mystery before it’s too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Jan 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781773395401

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2018 James Cox

ISBN: 978-1-77339-540-1

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: JC Chute

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

What's the point of writing if I can't name a strip joint after myself? lol. This story is, as always, for my readers. I hope you enjoy!

THE DEVIL’S CUM IN HIS EYE

A Cox Club Story, 1

James Cox

Copyright © 2018

Chapter One

Tomkin Coburn turned over in bed and checked the clock with barely open eyes. Shit! Fuck! Son of a bitch! The curses rolled off his tongue. I’m gonna be late for work. If he was late again, Captain would make him do bike patrol. He fucking hated bike patrol. How the hell was he supposed to look like a badass cop about to take down a criminal, when he was riding a bike with a fucking bell on it? How?

Coburn untangled himself from the blanket. He landed on his knees on the soft white rug in his bedroom. Goddamn it! He grabbed the uniform shirt off the back of his door and shoved his arms in. He cursed again, took that off and first put on his white undershirt, then shoved the uniform shirt back on. Hey, Pat. Coburn glanced at the lump on the bed, his date for the last couple of weeks. Last night, the fucker had stumbled in through the open window and woken Coburn up with a fucking blowjob. He had been seriously torn between shooting the intruder and shooting his load.

Pat didn’t stir.

Of course, last night would make for a hell of a good scene in his new book. Pat. He grabbed the pen on his black wooden desk and started jotting down the idea. He was on his twenty-fifth erotic romance novel, and the awards that decorated his office showed how hard he’d worked. Coburn hoped he’d be able to decode that scribble when he came home from his day job as a police officer. He buttoned up his uniform and grabbed the belt that hung on the back of his chair. Shit, my pants! All he was wearing was a black sparkling G-string from work. Not the cop job. On the weekends, he stripped at a hole-in-the-wall joint called The Cox.

Pat still hadn’t moved. Coburn tugged the decorative underwear off and kicked them toward the open closet door. His cock flopped around, smacking against his thigh as he headed toward the bed. "Seriously, Pat. Get your hoover-lips out of my bed, and get your ass out the window. My kid’s down the hall and he cannot see you in here. Yes, the reason he worked all these insane jobs was for that kid. The son he and his ex, Lin, had created at eighteen. That was a story unto itself. It’s not that Tomlin didn’t know his father was gay—or rather, bisexual—but there was definitely something disturbing about parading around a man in front of his sixteen-year-old son. Damn it, Pat. Pants! He couldn’t go to work with his cock hanging out. He shoved his legs into his pants leaving the zipper open. Coburn slapped the highest part of the lump, hoping it was his lover’s ass. Pat rolled slightly, and his arm fell from the covers and hung over the bed. How much did you drink last night?" He hadn’t remembered the intense smell of alcohol on Pat’s breath. Actually, after getting some sucking action on his dick, he didn’t remember anything. When did they have sex?

A bright crimson drop of blood landed on the white carpet, followed by another.

Pat? Pants forgotten, Coburn walked cautiously up to the lump in his bed and carefully pulled down the blanket. Pat’s wide-open eyes stared back at him, but Coburn couldn’t even tell you what color they were. He was busy staring at the knife stuck in Pat’s chest. "Fuck!" The word was a sputter as he heard his kid stirring down the hall. Coburn zipped up and ran to the open door.

Dad?

Hey, kid. Coburn made sure the door to his bedroom was closed tight behind him.

Everything okay? Tomlin, who had begged when he was ten years old to be called Tom, narrowed his eyes. They had the same soft brown hair that often stuck out at impossible angles after waking. Tom had his mother’s eyes, though, a mellow brown that almost looked orange in certain lights.

I’m fine, kid. Shouldn’t you be running for the bus?

Tom flattened his hair with his hands, and then checked his phone for the time. Shit! Fuck! Son of a bitch!

Hey, watch that language!

Tom’s cheeks colored. Sorry, Dad. He grabbed his backpack, which had been thrown on the floor yesterday and left there all night. Math test today! Tom shouted as he hauled ass toward the front door.

Good luck, Coburn yelled and waited as the door thudded shut. Tom was a good kid. When he’d first gotten custody of this tiny, screaming baby, he thought he was going to go fucking insane. No sleep. Poop and vomit and funky smells. Lo and behold, sixteen years later and they were practically best friends. God, He loved that kid. Coburn sighed and then straightened as he heard the wailing of the sirens. At least Tom would be off at school when the shit hit the proverbial fan. So much for being in the closet. How else could he explain a dead naked guy in his bed without first explaining he was bi-sexual?

The sirens sounded closer.

The only one who knew of his love of cock was his police partner, Andy. Coburn opened the door and flattened his hair with his hands like his kid did. At least he wouldn’t be greeting his entire precinct naked with a dead lover in his bed.

The front door opened, hitting the wall with a harsh thud.

It’s back here in the bedroom. Coburn walked down the small hall that held their two bedrooms, an office and the bathroom.

What is? Tom asked, whizzing by so fast that Coburn couldn’t grab him. I forgot my English home… work. Oh, my God.

He ran up to his kid and slammed his hand over Tom’s eyes. Don’t look. Goddamn it, motherfucker, cock-sucking bitch…

Was that… Dad, was that a dead body?

Coburn pushed Tom back toward the kitchen just as the cops swarmed through the front door. Down the hall, first door on the left. He shoved his kid on the sofa and waited as two cops, both of whom he played poker with, came in.

What the fuck, Coburn? You got a DB here? Smith was a pudgy bastard with a thick mustache and a thin skin when he lost.

In the bedroom. Where’s CSI?

On its way. Smith peeked into the room. Holy fuck, man! There’s a dead, naked guy in your bed.

So, you see why I was kind of shocked when I woke up.

Smith narrowed his eyes. You gay or some shit? I thought you had a kid.

Tom, get to school. We’ll talk when you get home. No way was he letting his kid hear anything like this. Whether Tom liked men or women when he was much, much, much older made no mind to Coburn. He just wanted Tom to be happy and healthy, and free of this homophobia shit for a few more years. It was in his prayers every night.

Tom wouldn’t budge.

Smith flounced down the hall. You let your kid see you fuck another guy?

Looks like it’s a day for surprises. Coburn took a step forward.