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  When I had the door unlocked once again, I turned back to see her walking woodenly into her apartment.

  Right when she got to where she was closing the door, I called her name, “Memphis!”

  She stopped and opened the door slightly, poking her head out of the opening to look at me.

  “When you’re ready to get what you need, and not what you think you want, come see me,” I said before closing the door to my own apartment.

  “Wow, that was deep,” Miller said from the couch.

  I flipped him off and walked away, not bothering to conceal the steep rod tenting up the front of my tactical pants.

  Apparently, they needed to make a new weapon holder to keep my dick in check.

  I had a feeling I’d be needing it for the next couple of weeks before I could convince her to give me a try.

  Chapter 5

  Multiple orgasms.

  -What a girl wants

  Memphis

  When you’re ready to get what you need, and not what you think you want, come see me.

  Those words played over and over in my brain, on repeat, throughout the next week.

  Each time I’d hear the moaning on the other side of the wall, I wanted to beat the hell out of him.

  Kind of like right now.

  It all started out pretty sedate. A moan here. A giggle there.

  In fact, I’d been able to fall asleep during the interlude, except that all changed around an hour later when it was no longer just noises, but actual wall slamming.

  It wasn’t exactly the sounds that woke me, though.

  It was the little pieces of plaster that landed in my open mouth, causing me to choke.

  I gasped and inhaled the foreign particles, reaching for my button to turn the lights on at the bed, I swiped at my eyes.

  There was dirt…or something in them keeping me from seeing properly.

  Which was why, when I stood up, I didn’t notice that there was a dog on the floor, again, and fell sideways.

  My arm went out to stop the fall, but I only managed to catch the lamp, throwing off my trajectory.

  I slammed hard into the wall, all the while trying to gasp for breath and choking.

  Landing on the floor in a heap next to Peter, I started crying. Peter started barking, and my head was spinning.

  The banging next door didn’t stop, though. If anything, it only ramped up.

  Eyes watering, I finally managed to clear my eyes enough to look at the wall, and what I saw was something out of a fictional story. It really couldn’t be happening in real life. That shit was only for the movies.

  I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought because there was no way that my wall was breaking.

  The wall was literally splitting from the board at the top with each pound from the other side of the wall.

  The couple on the other side was literally fucking through the wall.

  I made a vow right then that I was going to kick whoever’s ass it was. For real.

  Standing up in determination, I marched out of the house, a very upset Peter following at my heels.

  He still let out short barks every few seconds, and I wondered if I had something wrong with me. Or maybe I’d hurt him when I fell.

  Who knew?

  What I did know, though, was that if I didn’t stop whatever it was going on I would no longer have a wall.

  Leaving my apartment door open, I stomped over to Downy’s apartment door and started pounding on it. Loud.

  I started using my foot when I wasn’t getting the desired effect, and a deep rumbling voice from behind me had me shrieking and jumping away from the door.

  “Can I do something for you, Memphis?” Downy’s deep voice asked in barely contained laughter.

  I spun around and grabbed his hand, pulling him along with me through my still open door, down my hallway, and into my bedroom.

  All the while, I tried to tell myself that I didn’t like the feeling of his large, warm hand in mine. Nor did I like the way he clutched at my hand, or the deep-throated chuckle that left his lips as he saw where I was taking him.

  “You know, you didn’t have to come over in the middle of the night to bring me in here. All you had to do was ask, and I’d have come- oh, what the fuck?” Downy bellowed.

  Then the wall came crashing down.

  Downy dove, tackling me to the ground with such quickness that I never had any time to blink, let alone breathe in air to let out a scream.

  We crashed down to the ground a few feet away from the falling wall, and I landed painfully on my right side.

  “Oomph,” burst free from my mouth as we hit, bouncing twice as we skidded along the carpet.

  In the movies, the man always rolls to fall first, but Downy sure didn’t. He just bowled me over, hitting me like a brick fucking wall.

  Spots danced in my vision, or it might have been the plaster dust and tiny particles from the wall that was now resting on my bed. Fuck, I didn’t know. I was too busy trying not to cry at the unimaginable pain on my right side from where all of Downy’s weight smashed down on me as I was forcefully pushed into the carpet.

  Downy’s weight stayed still, and it was only when the soft, “holy fucking shit” came from the other side of the room that he lifted his head and looked at me.

  It was his eyes, and the way he was hunched over me protectively

  “You’re the fucking one!” I exclaimed. “The one that covered me when the shooting started!”

  My crow of surprise and happiness elicited a smile from him. A confused one, but a smile nonetheless.

  “What?” He asked, levering off of me.

  The only thing touching me now was his lower half against mine.

  I stayed on the floor with him leaning into me, his arms fisted at my sides holding himself up and said, “You. The SWAT team. Y’all came into the lawyer’s office, Pierson, Tide, and Associates. You were the one who covered my body when the shooting started.”

  Recognition flared in his eyes. “You’re shitting me.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  I squirmed in excitement that I finally got to thank him.

  It’d been weighing on my mind for weeks now.

  After the surprise of the entire fiasco had worn off, I’d been left with a need to thank him, but I hadn’t been able to get into touch with him after several failed attempts.

  My eyes narrowed. “You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

  His eyes flared, knowing exactly what he’d been doing.

  I’d called no less than twenty times, no joke.

  The receptionist knew me by name, and had told me she would get the message to him. Well, he’d obviously gotten the messages. The receptionist had even started connecting me to the SWAT team leader, but he’d led me on a merry chase as well, going as far as to say that his ‘man’ didn’t want the recognition, and he’d tell him how thankful I was.

  What a crock of shit.

  My eyes narrowed at him, and just as I was about to blast him with the sharp side of my tongue, his eyes dilated.

  I read the intentions before they actually became reality.

  His mouth thinned and he started to rise, but my reflexes proved that they weren’t all fucked up, and I wrapped my legs around him and threw my arms around his neck.

  His balance was put off kilter and he slammed down hard into me, catching himself with his elbows just as he would’ve landed completely on my chest.

  The new position had our hips aligned perfectly, and my eyes flared as I felt the hardness of him…everywhere.

  My arms around his neck, and my legs around his hips, tightened involuntarily at the feeling of his well-proportioned…body parts… but I didn’t forget I was still mad at him.

  “You could’ve at least let me say thank you,” I snapped.

  His eyes were leveled on my own. His mouth aligned with my lips.

  Only a measly inch separated our mouths, and I would’ve breached it. He would’ve too.
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  Except a feminine peal of laughter broke apart our moment, and Downy’s eyes snapped around to the bed.

  My eyes went that way, too.

  They probably resembled saucers when I took in the state of my bed.

  The frame that had been holding it up was now just a twisted piece of metal on the floor under my mattress. The mattresses were flat pancakes, and the wall, the entire stinkin thing, was laying over the mattress.

  The only thing we could see was the top of the wall.

  The bed had prevented it from hurting us: the box spring, mattress, and what was left of the frame.

  My bed had saved us…or at least our legs.

  “Memphis…” A man’s deep, tortured voice said from somewhere on the other side of the room.

  “I’m okay!” I said, still clinging to Downy.

  He broke my hold easily, though.

  Then started army crawling out.

  At one point, his crotch was level with my face, and I rubbed my mouth and chin on his lengthened cock. The one I could see outlined through his pants.

  He paused for only a few seconds before continuing.

  Downy moved until he was out from under the wall, and I stayed where I was, staring up at the wall in complete and utter shock.

  Not from the wall, of course, but by the fact that I could feel all of Downy’s dick rub against my face as he moved out from under the wall. And it was a big dick.

  “Memphis, crawl the fuck out in case the wall wants to continue on its downward path, and then smash your tempting little body before I can use it properly,” Downy growled.

  I wanted to smack him for his highhandedness, but nonetheless, I refrained.

  It was easier for me since I was smaller, but the sight that met me when I emerged was absolutely unreal.

  The first thing I could see was the naked girl on the bed across the room in Downy’s apartment.

  She was a beautiful woman, and I swear that, one day, I’d have a flat, tight tummy like her.

  Her boobs were perky and pretty, too.

  Although I wasn’t real interested in the bush she was flashing me and everyone, but that was neither here nor there.

  What I was more interested in was the naked man standing at the end of the bed with his hands on his head, looking at the wall in horror.

  When he saw me, he visibly relaxed. His arms went down and he leaned forward with his hands on his knees.

  “Thank fucking God!” The man gasped.

  Downy must’ve been waiting for something, but the next thing I knew he was launching himself at the man.

  “What did I tell you about fucking in my room?” He bellowed.

  The door beyond burst open and a frazzled looking Foster burst in.

  He took a long look around before opening his mouth, allowing his hilarity at the situation to pour through.

  “You fucked your date through the wall,” he laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.

  I didn’t find it funny, and neither did Downy.

  “Shut the fuck up, Foster,” Downy growled.

  The two of us were standing in the aftermath of our now much more open and airy rooms.

  Downy on one side, and me on the other.

  Downy got up, sadly, removing himself from the altercation that had him rolling around the floor with a naked man and fulfilling one of my fantasies.

  “I swear to God, Miller. You’re going to fix this. Then you’re going to get the fuck over to my other place and start fixing it, because I can’t live with you anymore,” Downy growled.

  That’s when I realized, yet again, that I was once again wearing another t-shirt with no panties or bra on underneath.

  Disheveled didn’t even begin to explain how I looked right then. I fucking hated looking like this in front of people!

  Walking calmly towards my bathroom, I shut the door behind me and grabbed my robe off the back of the door.

  I wrapped it around my shoulder and rested my face against the back of the door, mind reeling of all that’d happened in the last hour.

  If he hadn’t woken me up, I would’ve been on that bed. I’d be a squished, little pancake right about now.

  I heard Peter scratching at the door, so I opened it, leaving my head resting against the door as I moved back a couple of feet.

  When I felt Peter’s wet, cold nose at the back of my knees, I closed the door.

  “Oh, Peter, we’re so screwed,” I told my baby.

  Peter worked his way between my knees and the door, giving me affection when he knew I needed it.

  That wasn’t what comforted me most, though.

  It was the feeling of a warm body at my back, pressing against me.

  Downy’s arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me in close.

  His forearm went to the door above my head as he asked, “You okay?”

  I nodded, forehead squeaking against the painted door of the bathroom since I hadn’t lifted it, causing him to laugh.

  “I’m okay,” I said, trying to convince not just myself, but him.

  I wasn’t successful, but he didn’t call me on it.

  “I like it when you’re not dressed all prim and proper,” he teased, running his finger along the edge of my robe’s tie.

  I clenched my eyes shut, resisting the urge to knock him in the ribs with my elbow. “Shut it.”

  He didn’t, though.

  “Looks like you’ll be sleeping in my bed earlier than you thought,” he teased, making a smile tip up the corner of my mouth.

  I pushed away from the door and turned in his arms, my eyes moving up past his strong throat and square, bristled jaw, to his eyes.

  They were smiling, although I could see concern in them. Concern for me.

  “I won’t be sleeping in your bed. It’s got vagina cooties that don’t belong to me. When that’s fixed…then we’ll see about sleeping in the same bed. Even if I do, though, I won’t be ‘sleeping’ with you,” I told him sternly.

  He looked in my eyes, studied my face and said, “Okay.”

  Just that. A simple ‘okay.’ Nothing more, and nothing less.

  I was a tad bit disappointed that he hadn’t pushed a little more, but it was probably for the best.

  Downy wasn’t for me, and I wasn’t for him. Not with him being a cop. And not with me wanting anything but a cop.

  It was for the best. For sure.

  “Good,” I said.

  I was lying to myself, and he knew it.

  I had more willpower than most, though.

  And I’d make it true.

  Chapter 6

  My blood type is Jack Daniel’s.

  -T-shirt

  Memphis

  I walked into my room the next day, still surprised to see the large hole in the wall.

  That’s literally all it was, though. One huge, gaping hole.

  At least the wall was gone, as was my bed.

  There was a new one in its place, and I had to suppress the urge to take a leaping jump onto it.

  I really needed to go walk Peter, and if I laid down on that bed after the night I’d had the day before, I wouldn’t be getting back up.

  Stripping off my shirt and skirt and hanging them up nicely in the closet to clean this weekend, I shoved my legs into a pair of capri pants and a tight workout top.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, and slipped my feet into a pair of flip flops before heading to the bathroom.

  After using the facilities and putting my hair up into a ponytail, I walked out the door with Peter, taking him downstairs to the little patch of grass allotted for the dogs of our complex.

  Peter didn’t stay, though, choosing to go to the field once again.

  I had my shoulder leaning on the side of the apartment building, eyes on Peter as he frolicked when I heard the growl coming from behind me.

  I smiled, turning around thinking I was going to see Downy’s dog, Mocha, but it was anything but Mocha.

  This dog was a mutt of some sort. />
  He had horrific marks all over his body, some healed, some not.

  One of his eyes was closed over with scar tissue from trauma he’d received, and his coat was non-existent in patches.

  It was more than obvious that he was a dog that’d fought. My heart clutched, in fear for my life, and in sadness for what he’d gone through.

  I started to slowly back up, my hand running along the side of the building as I backed up.

  He followed my movements, one of my steps equaling one of his.

  Each time I moved backward, he moved forward.

  Peter barked, and then started barking quicker.

  The sounds got closer, but I watched the dog tense, ready to pounce, and I knew Peter wouldn’t make it.

  The dog was going for me, and I didn’t have a chance.

  I ran out of building as I backed up, leaving me three different directions to run, but none of them being viable options.

  I’d be caught any way I went.

  There was no way I wouldn’t be.

  I was in flip-flops, and the grass back here was taller, thicker, and filled with briars.

  I’d give it a try, though.

  Peter’s barks were getting frantic, and I thought for sure they were coming from a different direction now, but my eyes stayed on the dog. The scary, poor dog.

  He leapt when I finally chose a way to run, but he didn’t hit me.

  A loud bark of a gun’s retort sounded, but I didn’t turn around, I just ran towards the parking lot in the distance.

  My shoes were lost in the first three feet, and two feet more I knew my feet weren’t going to hold out against the briars.

  One exceptionally painful foot plant had me falling and I put my hands out to break my fall.

  When I landed, I rolled into the fall, feeling the sharp pricks all along my back and side.

  My carpet burn stung, and I cried out just as Downy’s loud, sharp voice yelled, “Don’t move, honey.”

  I froze, too scared to hope, too scared to look at him to see if I was actually hearing his voice and not dreaming.

  Warm, callused hands touched my thigh, and I finally looked up into the alarmed green eyes that I’d been dreaming about for two weeks now.

  Downy.

  “Oh, my God,” I said, launching myself at him.