Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend: Afterglow, Book 2 (11 page)

He satisfied his howling lust by slipping his hands beneath the long shirt and cupping the rounded and full globes of her bottom, squeezing them gently—just enough to make her sigh and wriggle to get even closer.

His cock thrust painfully against the fly of his pants, and he moved, cradling his length in the valley at the base of her belly, aware of the way she shifted to accommodate him.

His fingers slipped beneath the lace of her panties, exploring, seeking—finding the moisture as she panted into his mouth and let one hand drift to his head. He realized they were entwined about as closely as it was possible for two people to be. If they got any closer, he’d be standing behind her.

Damn. This was one of those times he could have used some octopus DNA as an AG mutation. Why God had only given him two hands he didn’t know, because right now he could have used at least four.

He wanted to plunge his fingers inside her and explore her inner secrets. He wanted to cup her breasts and play with her nipples, those hard buds he could feel through the soft shirt she wore. He wanted to do a whole bunch of really fun things, which included continuing the kiss that was coming close to frying his nerve endings. When she lifted one leg and slid her inner thigh up the outside of his, he nearly came in his jeans as the heat from her pussy radiated through the thin layers of fabric separating him from heaven.

“Cheney…” She tore her mouth free and gasped his name on an indrawn breath, clutching handfuls of hair.

“Yeah.” He groaned, ignoring the flash of stinging pain to his scalp and wondering how to get that damn shirt off her.

“Touch me, Cheney.” She moaned and went back to kissing him frantically, her body moving against his in an unmistakable wave of desire.

“Christ. Okay. How?
Where
?” He mumbled the words, untangling their tongues, barely able to extract one of his hands from her panties. Coordination wasn’t his strong point at this particular moment, but he managed to move it upward, finding her breast, lush and full and squashed against him.

“Oh
yeah
.” Forcefully he wrenched himself away from her lips, separating them enough for him to grasp the warm and round weight in his hand, his thumb seeking and finding the sensitive peak.

She cried out when he rubbed it, a shudder rippling over her body. “Fucking hell. God, that’s—”

He watched, wondering if she had come just from their foreplay. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, her lips shining and swollen from his kisses. She was magnificent, a sight that was worthy of a painting by a master.
Woman on the Edge of Orgasm
…

Then, to his utter astonishment, she froze.

And slowly, oh so slowly, disengaged herself from his hands. “No. I can’t.” She backed away, her body stiff, her steps awkward, totally unlike her usual grace. “I can’t do it. I can’t let that happen.”

Biting down on a serious, possibly terminal case of raging lust, Cheney managed to get his voice working. “Why not?” He didn’t die from the effort of talking, which was a good thing.

“I—” She straightened her clothing. “I’m not very good at sex.”

“Fucking hell.” He ran a hand savagely through his hair and glanced down at the impressive bulge in his pants. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Her brilliant eyes glistened. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far. I’m sorry.”

He noticed her hands shaking as she attempted to tidy herself, and cursed beneath his breath. “I should be the one apologizing. Given what you’ve been through that was probably the stupidest thing to have done.” He sighed. “I kinda lost it there.”

She echoed his sigh. “I did too. I’m not a tease, Cheney. Please don’t think that. But there are reasons why—”

And at that exact moment, her cell phone rang.

“Shit.” She turned away to answer it. “Yes, this is Pandora Jackson. Oh, hi, Selena. You heard already?” Mouthing the word
insurance
to him, she walked to his table and sat down, continuing her conversation.

Cheney passed her a pad and pencil, getting a silent nod of thanks in return. He then considered his options. Cold shower, jerk off or death by hard-on. None of them appealed to him. He barely managed to resist an urge to check and see if his ears were still there or if they’d blown off somewhere in the last few minutes.

The chime of his own phone was a welcome distraction.

“Hey.” It was Buck. “I just heard what happened. You two okay?”

Cheney sucked in air, fought down his frustration and filled him in rapidly, wasting no time on details since Buck would figure them out anyway.

He did. “Look, I did a favor for one of those guys. I’m gonna give him a call. If he’s still on scene, I’ll ask him to see if there’s anything worth salvaging and if so whether he can get it over to you. If he can’t, I’ll do it myself.”

“I owe you. That would be a real nice surprise for her. She’s handling it, but I reckon it’s taking every ounce of strength she’s got right now.” Cheney paused. “Early, I know, but I wonder if there’s any word on the cause of the fire yet?”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

“You’re a pal. Like I said, I owe you.”

“You’ll pay. In the meantime—” Buck paused. “I had a thought.”

“Ordinarily I’d comment on that, but since you’ve just been so nice I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“Always knew you had more than one brain cell.” Buck chuckled. “And it might help to take Pandora’s mind off her troubles.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“Do some digging. See if you can get more background on that thing you saw. We don’t have a clue where it originated right now, and it looks like the obvious lead’s a real dead end unless Karl can pull a miracle out of his little hat.”

“No pun intended.”

“Yeah.”

Cheney considered that. “I could get the details of Pandora’s court case, get some names. Talk to people if I have to.”

“There you go, pal. Nothing you can do about the fire, but you can research the other thing. Better to be doing busy work than worrying about acts of fate.”

“Buck.” Cheney’s brain finally let go of sexual matters and snapped back into full work mode. “I just had a thought as well.”

“Well, damn. Must be something in the air.”

Cheney ignored that. “What if the fire wasn’t an act of fate? What if the two things are connected?”

Silence greeted that question. Buck’s brain was probably shooting off neurons or something while he considered the possibilities. It didn’t take long. Cheney heard a low whistle.

“Somebody wanted evidence completely destroyed.”

“They couldn’t know the critter was dead, could they?”

“Doubt it.” Buck’s voice was quiet. “But if they’d taken out Pandora too, it would’ve been even better. Any evidence at all that the creature ever existed would have gone up in smoke.”

“
Shit
.”

“Yeah. Where are the kids?”

“With Roz. They’ll be staying there now, no question about it.”

“Yeah. Good.”

“You getting that nasty gut feeling?” Cheney glanced at Pandora, who was busily taking notes and speaking quietly into her phone.

“We’re way out on a limb with this, partner. We don’t even know if it’s arson yet.”

“I know. But we’ve been out there before. That limb hasn’t broken underneath us up to now.”

“I wouldn’t tell
her
,” cautioned Buck. “She’s got enough on her plate.”

“I won’t. But she’s not going anywhere without me from now on. Not until we’ve got something more substantial to work with that eliminates the nasty gut feeling.”

“Good idea.” Buck’s snicker was wickedness personified. “
Very
good idea.”

“Hey. I’m working here. This is business.” His cock had softened but the memory lingered on, making him an outright liar. Which, of course, his partner knew only too well.

“
Riiiiight
.”

“Fuck off.”

“I should hear from Karl soon. When I do I’ll let you know. In the meantime, maybe you should offer a comforting shoulder or other body part to your new roomie.” Unaware of how close he was to the truth, Buck chuckled casually. “You might get lucky. Or at least get a pity fuck if you tell her how long it’s been. If you don’t remember how to do it, there’s manuals online.”

“At the risk of repeating myself, fuck off, dude.” He had to be talking to the one person on earth who knew he’d been going through a self-imposed sexual drought lately.

“Okay. Keep in touch.”

The call ended on the sound of Buck’s laughter. Closing the phone, he turned to see Pandora watching him, her own call finished and a sheaf of notes spread out in front of her on the table. “Everything okay?” She sounded—
normal
. “Relatively speaking?”

He wasn’t sure if he was pleased about her self-composure, given that barely five minutes ago they’d been all over each other like white on rice and two seconds away from mutual ecstasy. But he pushed that thought aside for the time being and nodded. “Yeah, it was Buck.” He moved across the room. “He had a good idea for once. C’mon. We’ve got some research to do.”

She hesitated. “Look, I should make some arrangements for a place to stay. Clothes. Stuff like that. The insurance company is on it and they’re up and running as far as that kind of thing goes…”

“Forget it. You’re staying here. Subject closed. Move on.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into his office. “I need to pick your brains right now.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. The bright blue gaze glared. “Tabled for later discussion.” Her tone was as firm as his.

“Damn lawyer.”

“Damn right.”

Pandora followed Cheney into a small room, which might have been a guest bedroom at one point in time. Now? Now it was a combination library and high-tech playroom. One wall was covered with books, and although she’d have loved the opportunity to browse the titles, he led her directly to a large desk, surmounted by a massive free-hanging screen.

She watched as he absently touched a panel and the keyboard appeared, lights reflected on the smooth surface of his desk. It was obvious he was quite at home with it, since the keyboard exactly matched the clear space. The rest of it had some files scattered around, a few loose sheets of paper, a cute little dog holding pens and pencils and a couple of used coffee mugs.

“
Hello, Cheney
.” A smooth voice purred from the screen, and she blinked at the large, voluptuous image of an old-time movie star.

“Hey, Marilyn.”

The image blew him a kiss from pouty red lips and shook masses of platinum blonde hair. “Tell me, lover. What can I do for
you
today?”

It sounded like an invitation to something decadently sexual. Pandora rolled her eyes. Boys and their toys. Although, in all fairness, it was a pretty fantastic rendering. Since her computer greeted her with nothing more than an annoying talking paper clip, she probably shouldn’t mention Cheney’s Marilyn.

“I need to do some research. Can you Google some stuff for me?”

The image laughed. “I can do so much more than that, and you know it.”

Pandora cleared her throat. “I’m sure this is fun, but could we get on with it?”

“Oooh. Brought the girlfriend today, have we?” Marilyn looked interested. “This could be exciting.”

“Quit it, Marilyn. I need info. Let’s get on that, shall we?”

Yes, the back of his neck was definitely turning red. Good thing too, the pervert. Pandora huffed and strolled away to the bookshelf.

He looked away from the screen over his shoulder at her. “You remember the case number of that animal abuse trial by any chance? The name of the judge? Anything we can do to access the records?”

“Sure.” She began to see where he was headed. “Got it filed in here somewhere.” She pulled out her phone and accessed her database, bringing up all the data she had.

“Good. That gives us someplace to start.”

As he worked, she let her gaze drift over the eclectic assortment of reading material crowding the shelves. Apparently Detective Fisher didn’t restrict his literary interests to job-related works or murder mysteries, although there was a smattering of both.

A shelf of romance novels surprised her, some of which she’d enjoyed herself. There was a solid section devoted to the ancient classics, starting with Oedipus and ending with Byron. Shakespeare was well represented as were works by some of the more recent poets and writers, like Anaïs Nin, Edward Lear and Franchot Bisquel, whose work had won more than a few awards the year before.

It was an eccentric and wide-ranging library, and she realized she might have put something like it together for her own pleasure, given the room and the budget. There were, perhaps, some hidden facets to Cheney’s personality that went beyond the politely charming image he presented to the world. The fact that she was looking at real books with paper pages instead of the more commonly accepted electronic files told her something right from the start.

She smiled at the assortment of fairy tales, recognizing so many familiar titles. A large glossy volume caught her eye, since it featured none other than the delicious Marilyn he’d chosen for his computer’s personalization program.

She pulled it down. No, she didn’t want Marilyn, but there had to be a guy in that book of equal fame. Somebody she would enjoy looking at first thing in the morning. Of course, she’d have to get a bigger screen…

Lost in the glamorous black-and-white world of generations ago, she didn’t realize Cheney was speaking. “Hey. Wake up.” He was staring. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at pictures of old movie stars. I like your computer’s image.”

“Yeah, me too.” He quirked an eyebrow. “There are a whole bunch of choices with this system.”

Pandora barely heard him. She’d found a face that seriously snagged her attention. “Oh. Oh
my
.”

“Who?”

“Um…Clark Gable.”

He snorted. “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Cheney shrugged the comment aside. “Come look at this.”

She closed the book and crossed to stand behind his chair, absently putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning forward a little. “You found something?”