His eyes are fiery but focused. He wraps my hair around his fist and guides me as we work in unison. His only warning is a hitched breath and a quiet moan.
He strokes my head as I swallow, then whispers, “good girl.”
As he helps me to my feet, he demands, “Bed… now.”
Ok, Caveman Joey.
He pushes me toward the room and is actively pulling my shirt over my head by the time we get to the bedroom door. My bra is unsnapped and tossed to the side. Within seconds, he’s yanking my pants and panties down around my ankles and pushing me to the side of the bed.
He pauses for a second as he pulls off his tie. “I’ve got better stuff in the car. But this will have to do for now.”
He scoots my body toward the center of the bed and ties my ankles with the duck tie. Within seconds, his mouth is on my pussy, licking and sucking on my clit. Not gonna lie, the demon smut had the engine started, but this is what’s going to take me to the finish line.
He inserts two fingers and I cry out. He pumps his hand until my whole body feels alive and awake. Again, the Narrator Lady is being silent—no distracting thoughts, just pleasure grounded in the moment. Instead, I can focus on his words. “You're going to come for me, right?”
I break all around him. My back arches, and I moan his name as my body jolts high, sending shivers from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
He crawls up my body and kisses me, hot and controlling. Like he owns me. But the kisses slow to be more tender as our breathing becomes more centered and steadier. We lie together in the afterglow, neither of us speaking until we get dressed because the food is here.
Whatever it is, it smells fried and meaty. He opens the bag and checks the top container, “This one is mine.” He pulls out a second container and slides it over to me. “That’s yours.”
Ok, I need a game plan if I don’t like whatever he ordered for me. God, is this going to be a whole thing if I reject what he bought and he didn’t even bother to ask me what I like? I guess it’s the gesture that counts. Suck it up and eat it.
My heart swells when I open the container. “Chicken fingers and fries?”
“You like it?”
“It’s so perfect.” There’s nothing better than comfort food when I’m starving. I think I could be in love.
Or maybe that’s the duck tie and chicken fingers talking.
Chapter Nineteen
Jenny
After lunch, we return to our spots on the couch. He flips on a Knights of the Night Podcast and we snuggle together. I tried to take Kingston’s tie off, but he growled, so he gets to stay as a sophisticated gentleman for a little longer. Everything is nice and warm… until Joey gets a phone call.
The ring tone is different.
His body goes all rigid as he stands, presses answer, and walks into the bedroom. The door slams behind him.
I’m playing a merging game on my phone while listening to the podcast, and I’m not really noticing how much time has gone by. But Kingston lets out a low whine. Joey’s been on the phone for a while. The dog’s potty dance will turn into potty howling if I don’t do something now. Is a howling dog worse than a mess on the floor?
While Joey’s busy, I grab Kingston’s leash and take him out. The elevator is annoyingly slow. I spend the time trying to trace together the Knights of the Night family tree and predict what will happen in the next book. But even while I write fanfic in my head, whatever’s produced as canon will never hit the way I want it to. Fanfic scratches that itch my soul needs and that TV producers will never allow. That little mental tangent gets me halfway down the block before I realize it.
Kingston pees six times on various street poles, to the point I’m one hundred percent sure he’s lifting his leg out of habit and pissing air. He trots along, equally distracted from the world, too busy doom scrolling on the doggie internet. The lights are on in the Elysium Office. Is Silvio still there? Maybe he’d like to see Kingston’s new attire.
The door’s open, which is weird, but whatever. Angry voices echo in the back of the office, and there’s a strange smell in the air I can’t place. Burning and some sort of metallic smell maybe. But red flags start to fly around.
Silvio’s office door is wide open and there are two men in T-shirts and black pants standing in front of him. Kingston walks around and starts sniffing something behind a desk. I don’t call out, instead I stop and listen. But they’re talking in a language I don’t understand, Italian maybe.
One of the men lifts his hand. Two loud popping sounds and flashes of light fill the space. Kingston yelps and runs back toward me. His nose is red and wet. That's when I see a woman’s legs on the floor.
I step back and knock over a cup full of pens. The two men whip their heads around.
Run the Narrator Lady screams.
Kingston and I sprint out of the office and toward the parking lot. We’re fast, but the pounding footsteps behind us are faster.
