“Fuck me.”
“Pierce,” he breathes, his voice on the verge of irritation. “That’s not….”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Just get it over with.”
Miles sits up, grabs my shoulder, and flips me over onto my back. I stare at him, the blue lighting enough only for silhouettes, but I feel how rigid he is—stiff and tense. He takes a few breaths before resting down on my chest, his mouth above mine.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I mutter.
He runs a hand through my hair and grazes his lips against mine. “That never should’ve happened. I should’ve been there. And… I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not what this is about.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me. Even if you did, I can handle it.”
“I don’t want you to think of me like Jeremy.”
“You’re nothing like Jeremy,” I growl. Anger is all I feel as I get up on my elbows, shoving Miles away. “I thought about it, all right? I realized something—I let Jeremy have me any way he wanted, and I don’t feel anything for the man. I want you. So why wouldn’t I give you what you want?”
“You don’t have to do this to keep me.”
“Don’t I?” I snap.
Miles pulls me close and presses his mouth against me, his tongue sliding across mine before I say anything. He gently pushes me back down and strokes my chest. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I enjoy the taste of him. Eventually I calm down and return to my lust-filled state. Miles brushes my disheveled hair from my face and breaks away.
“Pierce,” he whispers.
I wait, but he never follows up his statement. Instead he reaches down between us and wraps his grip around my semihard erection. I suck in my breath, startled by the contact but not opposed to it. Miles presses himself against my length and proceeds to caress us both together. He’s harder than I am—on the breaking point, really—but the heat from his crotch, combined with the precome, gets me back up to speed.
“Have you ever done this before?” he asks between heavy breaths.
“No.”
Miles increases the pressure of his strokes, pumping with a steady rhythm. It’s nice. It’s not as pleasurable as alternative methods of fucking, but something about his intimate whisper keeps me in the mood for what he’s doing.
His fingers slide along my length, and his pulse can be felt through his erection. I rest back, enjoying the sensations. Miles, on the other hand, must have been ready for some time. He digs his nails into my shoulder as he shudders, his seed coming out in two bursts and coating my chest.
He moans and shudders with each progressive stroke after his orgasm, like he’s emptying the rest of his dick before stopping.
“You okay?” I ask.
Miles nods.
“Then you should get me a towel.”
Always ready to comply, he jumps off and stumbles on unsteady legs. Once he’s recovered, Miles walks to our dresser and pulls out a clean towel. He tosses it over, and I miss catching the thing. After some floundering in the dark, I get it and wipe my body clean of sweat and semen.
Miles crawls back into the bed. “What do you want?”
“Nothing,” I state as I throw the towel to the floor. I’m already cold and back to my flaccid state. I’m sure I’ll wake with a stiffy or have weird dreams, but I’m not in the mood.
“Pierce, you never have to be the bottom if that’s not what you’re into. I’m not going to force it.”
“I know.”
“Then forget I ever asked, all right?”
“How about this,” I say as I roll onto my side and settle into the bed. “I’ll play bitch for your birthday, and if I hate it, we’ll go back to our old arrangement. Besides, I wouldn’t want Jeremy to be the last man to have me, anyway.”
Miles laughs. “You’re gonna let me have sex with you as a birthday gift?”
“What? You don’t want that?”
“No. No, I do.”
“Good. Then what the hell are you complaining for?”
“THIS IS it?” the attorney asks, his nostrils flaring. “This is everything?”
I give the guy a sideways glance. “Yeah. It’s everything. Why? What’s wrong with it? You want it typed out neater?”
“I want it to be complete! Have you not seen a witness statement? Ever?”
This guy’s voice could deafen infants. It’s piercing, and he yells like he needs the whole damn neighborhood to hear our conversation. When I don’t answer, the attorney opens up his shiny black briefcase and hands over a sheet of paper. I take it and grit my teeth.
My witness statement is two short paragraphs explaining what Ms. Timo told me when I asked about her son’s homicide. And that’s about it. This other guy’s witness statement is a novel unto itself, complete with the time the statement was taken and the signature of the individual in question. It also has a fancy PI firm letterhead at the top, making it look extra official.
Miles glances at the statement and then to mine, a neutral look on his face that betrays nothing. I stop myself from crumpling the paper as I hand it back.
“Your statement has zero value,” the attorney continues. “I can’t use this in court! This is completely unprofessional. I need you to go out and talk to the witness again. Do I make myself clear?”
“You’ll get your statement,” I state. “Keep your britches on.”
The man flounces out of the lobby, slamming the glass door on his way out. I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter, but it’s not like the attorney has any muscle to him.
“Have you never taken a witness statement before?” Miles asks with a lifted eyebrow.
“No.”
“Did Shelby leave you any examples?”
“I have a handbook and legal thing with all the local codes, laws, ordinances, and regulations.”
I should probably read those.
Miles nods once. “Maybe you should take a look at that before you try to take another statement.”
“Oh, ya think? Have any other insightful pieces of advice I already thought of?”
Miles chortles. “I wouldn’t mind helping you study up on this subject.”
“I don’t
