Criss Cross
Page 14
Jacob grunted and slammed me onto him again, and once more, and then the sensation of heat welled inside my ass, and everything turned slick.
His giant cock was still inside me. He eased me back down and pushed into my ass a few more times. His strokes were slick with come, just a few more gentle thrusts before he softened. He let go of my waist and ran his hands down my back again, muttering things to himself that were pretty much lost to the sound of the shower. Mostly my name.
He pressed his chest to my back and I sagged into the shower wall. His lips slid on the back of my neck, wet kisses, and he cupped his hand protectively over my spent cock.
***
Jacob was still asleep when I woke up again, mid-morning the next day. He had this way of lying diagonally on the bed so that when I got up and looked back at him, I wondered how the hell I’d even fit in there. I crept from the bedroom and eased the door shut behind me, hoping to buy him a little more well-earned sleep.
Channel eight was its usual non-self. I watched it carefully at first, sneaking small glances to see if there were any faces there, any grasping hands. But there weren’t; it was just dirty, gray snow. The single Auracel I’d taken had worn off. It was such a small dose it hadn’t even left me with its characteristic behind-the-eye hangover. My tongue felt a little wooly from the cold medicine, but aside from that, I was clear.
I stared at my set and thought about the television in the hotel room. Most of the actual television components had probably been gutted, since it didn’t even really function as a TV. Maybe it was all just a prop, a screen and a DVD player slapped onto the front to camouflage a big hunk of equipment that generated heat and a little electronic hum. Or maybe parts of it were actually once a TV, in another life.
If I could get my hands on one of those, I could stop getting stressed out about Jackie the Hooker, the baby in the basement, and the hovering, greedy spirit of the Criss Cross Killer. I could figure out what those dials and knobs meant and totally fine-tune it. I could blow off my appointments at The Clinic and not have to worry about running out of Auracel. If the device was portable, I could take it to crime scenes and amp up the spirits that were faint, or reluctant, or just plain old.
Who was I kidding? It was unlikely I’d use it for work; I just wanted to come home to a little peace.
Crash was the only person I could think of to help me figure out what that souped-up television was, so that I could get one for myself. My heart didn’t palpitate at the mere thought of him anymore, and I was glad. It didn’t seem like Jacob would decide I was a little too uptight for his taste and go back to someone who knew a few more tricks in bed, not after all we’d been through. And I was faithful, too, if only in my waking life. If Jacob was gonna go out for that metaphorical pack of smokes, I suspected he’d have done it by now.
The hardwood floor creaked. I looked up and Jacob was standing in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching me watch channel eight. I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to say something, but he just gave me a slow, wolfish smile.
I wondered if the invitation to move in together was still on the table. Not that I was ready to give it any serious consideration just yet, but it was comforting to know that Jacob would take things to the next level if I was game. I’d have to have my own room -- white, of course. But then he could get his dining room table back.
I bet Jacob had a piece of furniture that’d be just right for one of those kick-ass, anti-ghost TVs.
End