Page 47 of Demo
“Shit. Yeah, baby. Just like that.”
I reached one hand down to rub myself as I rode up and down on him, using my other hand to caress my breast and nipple.
Knox looked up at me through heavy eyelids, and I could see the arousal in his eyes. “Keep doing that,” he ground out. “That is the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen.”
I continued using his body to get off. “Let me know, Knox. When do you need me to pull up?” I was panting and on the brink of not caring. And then my orgasm hit, and I rocked uncontrollably on him as I soaked him and clenched him, causing him to topple over the edge with me.
“Gahh … Liz-now! Get up!” I pulled up just as he reached down and pulled his cock out, making a mess on both of us. When he finished, I quickly rolled off him and grabbed his shirt off the floor and used it to clean us both. I saw a hamper in the corner of the room, so I balled up the soiled shirt and threw it in that direction.
Then I sat on the edge of the bed, not really sure what I was supposed to do.
Knox’s hand curled around my upper arm, and he gently pulled me down until I willingly laid my body next to him and he curled around me. “Don’t,” he said into my ear.
“Don’t what?”
With closed eyes, he tapped a finger to my temple. “Don’t do whatever you’re doing in that brain of yours right now.” He pulled me closer to him and released a heavy breath. “You’re staying here tonight. In my bed. I’m going to snore in your ear all night. You’re going to get too hot and try to push me away, but—fair warning—I’m not going to let you go. Then we’re gonna go to breakfast. We could go to that same place we went to after the party. They had fantastic pancakes.”
I let my body settle into his as his words sank in, and I let down a little more of my guard. “Yes, please,” I whispered, before drifting off to sleep.
Chapter 14
LYZBETH
“Jimmy”and“Sanders”areJimmy Jones and Ralph Sanders. Why one goes by his first name and the other by his last, I have no idea. But as I stand in the ambulance bay waiting for a female EMT to see if she can track one of them down, I am suddenly feeling shy. I’m wondering if I should just leave when I hear a nearby medic shout to a guy rushing in through the open garage doors.
“Hey, Sanders, nice of you to show up!” the man says.
Bingo.
“Yeah, yeah,” the man, apparently Sanders, responds. “The baby was up every two hours last night.”
Sanders is a tall blonde man with a solid build. I’d say he’s my age. His polo shirt with the agency logo is tucked into cargo pants with all sorts of things clipped to them—radio, beeper, phone, keys. He is carrying a duffle bag over his shoulder.
“I remember those days,” says the other guy.
“How long till your little guy slept through the night?” Sanders asks him.
The other guy just chuckles.
I don’t realize I’m watching the scene like a stalker until the female EMT comes out of the office. “Oh good, you found one of them,” she says to me, getting both Sanders and the other guy’s attention. They look to her, then to me.
“Er, yeah,” I look between all of them. “Sorry,” I say to Sanders. “I was hoping to talk to you for a second.”
“Me?” he asks, pointing at himself. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The woman retreats back to the office and the other guy gets busy stocking an ambulance with medical supplies.
“Well, this is a little random, but I was told you responded to a call a little while back I was hoping to get some information on,” I start.
He finishes stuffing his duffel bag into a locker and shuts the door with some heft. “Which call?” he asks, turning so he is facing me square on, hands on his hips.
“It involved a drug deal on the east side of the city. A teenager was killed. Jerome King.”
Sanders runs one hand through his finger-length blonde hair and lets out a low whistle. “It’s been a while since anyone brought up that name,” he says. “What do you want to know? I can’t imagine I have much information for you.”
I cross my arms over my chest and look down at my feet before looking back up at him. “Well, I reported on the case. Maybe I should have led with that, sorry. I’m a reporter with ROC Record. But that’s not why I’m here today. I’m not writing anything. I’m not looking for a quote or anything. This is off the record.”
Sanders’ hand is now resting on the back of his neck. One might think he was working out a kink.
