End with 5 pairs of “crossed” matchsticks after 5 jumps.
Matchsticks are crossed by picking up one, jumping either right or left over the next 2 matchsticks, and placing it across the 3rd one.
Used with permission by: Matchstick Puzzles
SEX, GAMES & MURDER Want to play?
It was munch night at the most elite underground BDSM club in the Rockies. Relaxed and informal, highlighted by the weekly Matchstick Challenge game. Detective Sergeant Hunter Dane, reigning champion, looked forward to a relaxing evening to start his 3 days off. A few beers on the deck. An interlude with a sweet sub. Stumping a challenger with a new puzzle. Home early for a decent night’s sleep.
Some people are SO deadly serious about their games.
Now Hunt has a fresh body and a new puzzle to solve in twenty-four hours if he wants to find a killer.
A 48k police procedural with a liberal dose of M/M hotness. Which means our fave full-metal Dom shows up to collect on Hunter’s offer of his … coffer. So to speak.
There are puzzles for the reader and mysteries to be solved. Based on characters introduced in the short story On His Knees.
Cam was quiet for a long time, tracing the shape of my pec with his finger. It made me feel restless.
“Are you making an assumption?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m just stating the probabilities. I’ll know more after I talk to Chez and Sherrilynne later.” He wriggled around and I shifted uncomfortably. “You okay?”
He tilted his head back to get a better view of me. “The windows are tinted.”
“I – what?”
“The seats totally recline.”
“Cam,” I said. Sternly, I thought.
“You’re hard,” he said wriggling again. His eyes were big, the arctic blue giving way to black pupil.
He was being ridiculous. “That’s just physiology. I’m working.”
He reached for the lever and my seat went almost completely flat. “You’re at lunch.”
“I don’t have time,” I felt my voice tighten.
“Five minutes, tops,” he said. “It’ll just feel a lot longer.”
Damn kid …
He braced himself against the door, took me under the arms and shoved the top of me onto the back seat.
I heard him lower my zipper and felt the rush of cold air against over my erection before I felt his hand.
“Cam – ”
He rose up over me, bracing himself on his hands on either side of the seat. He gave me a lopsided grin and a hard stare.
“You have something to say, sub?”
Sonuvabitch! My cock jerked and throbbed.
He slid down between my legs. Insinuating his fingers through the flap in my briefs, he freed me.
“Put your hands behind your head so I can see your face. I love watching you suffer.” He smiled and touched my slit gently with a fingertip.
I swallowed my groan and complied. The action lifted and opened my leather jacket. He could see the Colt in the shoulder holster. He licked his lips.
“If you come before I tell you, if you come in my mouth, you will present yourself to me tonight for discipline. Do you understand?”
I felt precum gush. He slipped a thumb over my cockhead. Spreading it. Bastard. “Yes, Cam.”
He lowered his wet, hot mouth onto me. And then there were no cars in the drive-thru or pulling into parking spaces. No people or voices or murders to be solved. There was just Cam and the mystery of his tongue and lips and hands and teeth. His throat.
His eyes glittered with malicious delight, fixed on my pleading ones as his mouth and fingers worked me over. I watched him do it because he required me to. He watched me watching him because it excited him. In less than a minute, I was desperate for restraint. For a gag. For release.
And he was just getting started.