Our flesh slapped together loudly, bouncing off the walls like cannon fire.
I knew we weren’t being quiet.
With each pump and twist of his hips, my childhood bed slammed hard against the wall.
The Mardi Gras beads that were hanging from one post clicked and clanked with his zealousness.
I smiled when the squeaking started, then turned my face into the pillow when he slowed to a stop and moved me to where I was on my side, all the while staying planted inside of me.
He growled when he sank deeper, moving to where one of my legs was in between his knees, and one leg was in a split position going up along the expanse of his chest.
My foot was straight up in the air as he pumped his hips into mine.
His cock hit me deeply, causing my orgasm to start to tease me at the edge of my consciousness.
This new position allowed him free, unencumbered access to my clit, and each time he pumped his hips, his balls would swing backwards and forwards, tagging me at my perineum with his exuberance.
I lost the battle when my orgasm finally flipped me over for a backflip.
My head spun and my world tipped on its axis.
I spiraled up into the throws of my orgasm, pulling him right along with me for the ride.
He growled, thrusts going a tad frantic as he chased his own orgasm, and I let him.
His hips pounded into me. The head of his cock reaching the darkest, deepest part of my being with each thrust of his hips.
I screamed.
It ripped out of me straight from the bottom of my soul, heart pounding and ear screeching in its intensity.
Awkwardly, my one leg wrapped around his knees, and the other one bent practically to my chest as he leaned down to get more traction for his thrusts.
I panted, watching the way his neck corded, his jaw muscles tensed, and his arms bulged.
“Fuck yes, baby,” he hissed, then poured himself deep inside of me in hot, wet pulses.
He grunted with his release, thrusts starting to slow until they were little less than involuntary jerks.
His cock twitched as he let my leg go.
It flopped on the bed beside his hips, splaying unladylike, seeing as I’d lost the desire to move…and possibly function as a normal human being.
He chuckled as he caught the expression on my face, reaching behind him for his discarded t-shirt as he grabbed it and shoved it underneath my ass.
He pulled out slowly, allowing me to come back to myself with his rude departure.
“I like you better inside of me,” I said breathlessly.
He winked and bent forward to kiss my lips, the softening head of his cock touching the bare skin of my belly as he did so.
His balls fell heavy against my well-used pussy, heavy and deliciously comforting.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, putting all that I had into the kiss.
When our lips finally parted I said, “I could still beat your ass for making these last ten days hell for me. You made my tips go way down, too.”
He shook his head and leaned up, easily breaking the hold I had around his neck and sitting up before walking to my bathroom.
I inhaled sharply, eyes riveted on the tattoo that was on his back.
“What is that?” I gasped, leaning forward to get a better look.
He shrugged, and the beautiful lines and swirls on his back twisted with the movement.
I heard the water running, and when he came back a moment later with a wet washcloth in his hand, I could do nothing but smile at his thoughtfulness.
That didn’t mean that I forgot about the newest addition.
“What’s up with you, Downy?” I asked softly, leaning forward until I was sitting crossed legged on the bed, being doubly sure to make sure I didn’t drift off his shirt.
He set the rag on the nightstand, sitting down and facing the wall.
“I had my first negotiation. A little girl was killed,” he said softly.
My brows lowered, “What?”
He reached forward and grabbed his pants, pulling the phone out of his pocket before he opened it and handed it to me.
“She was five. I was the one talking to her father when he pulled the trigger and shot her in the head,” he explained brokenly.
My heart clenched and I abandoned my perch to crawl to him.
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shuddered. “I watched her die. Through my binoculars, while the men of my team went in. It all started with a phone call to police from neighbors that said the father was beating the kid in the front yard. When police arrived on scene to check it out, he had a gun to her head, and refused to answer the door. This was all seen through the room’s open windows.” He cleared his throat. “Luke wanted me to talk to him, so I did. I spoke to him about what he wanted. How old his daughter was. Where he grew up. Fuck, by the end of it, I practically knew his whole life story.”
“I asked if it’d be okay if we came in to talk, and he said okay. The minute one of our team stepped through the door, he shot the little girl in the back of the head,” he gasped. “I watched it from the stupid fucking tent they put me under. And I heard the little girl’s last death rattle from the phone falling on the floor after Michael shot the father.”
I squeezed Downy’s neck tighter, pressing my body against his for support.
“I’m sorry, Downy,” I cried softly against his neck.
He shrugged. “Nothing you can do, honey. I was just not ready to talk these last couple of days. I needed a break. Not from you, but from my life. That’s why I had the week off. That’s also why I worked on my house. I needed something to occupy my mind, but not keep me from thinking about the things I needed to think about.”