Page 20 of Demon

Carefully, I picked out the glass from the cut, running the tip of my finger over it gently, feeling for anything rougher than torn flesh. Then I dabbed on a shit load of antiseptic. More than was really necessary, all just to see if he would flinch under the sting.

“Good job,” Demon said when I finished, holding his hand up in front of him and inspecting the little strips, pulling the sides of the cut back together. “You could be a nurse.”

“I don’t like blood. Or shit or piss. Or vomit. I’ll stick to Social Care.”

“Is that what you’re going to uni for?”

“You know I go to uni?”

“Your books were in the car. Didn’t know what they were, but guess the Sunderland University stamp was a giveaway. Or you thieved them.”

“How did you get my car back, anyway? You didn’t have the keys.”

Demon shrugged. “Nothing a little rubbing of wires in the dash couldn’t sort.”

“You hot-wired it?”

“Well, when you don’t have the keys…”

“And how did you get into it in the first place?”

“Fords have never been made to keep people out. A little wire wedged into the window, and it didn’t take much to pop the lock.

“Where did you learn to hot-wire a car?”

“When I was a kid. What else do you do when you’re bored?” Demon shrugged.

“What? You couldn’t find some random guy’s head? Seems that’s more effective.”

“Well, when you’re a qualified social worker then you can get a decent car. That doesn’t have some guy’s head in it. Tough job, though,” he continued. “Think the vomit and shit sounds better. Why a Social Worker?”

“If I can help that one other kid, like that Social Worker helped me that day. Then it’s worth it.”

I stood up, cutting that conversation off, stuffing the first aid kit back under the sink, and turning around to walk straight into him. His hand wrapped round the back of my head, firm but gentle, his dark eyes on mine, connecting.

“You’ll make an incredible social worker.”

“You don’t know me, Demon.”

“Then show me who you are, Ciara.”

His thumb stroked my left cheek, hot tingles chasing across my skin and down my neck. And then he dipped his head. And this time, the kiss was gentle. Not aggressive, not dominant. It was hesitant, slow.

Chapter Ten

Demon

For the first time I really felt her lips, plump and soft, sliding over mine, anticipating the onslaught of something more punishing. Like when we’d first met. But there was something different between us, a change. Or at least for me. I would have helped any woman that needed it, but tonight, that fucker was lucky I didn’t kill him right there and then. And I certainly wouldn’t have got any Dirty Deeds points for that one.

Her tongue swiped across mine, hot and gentle, as our lips met each other, plucking and pulling. My fingers tangled in her hair, thick long strands, perfect for grabbing handfuls of. I pulled her into me, her tits pushing against my chest, the heat from her body against me. And then her hands were inside my jacket, nudging it over my shoulders, but the stiff leather wasn’t easy to push back and so I dropped my hand from her head, wriggling out of the padded bike jacket and dumping it on the floor behind me.

Our lips never parted, her mouth heavier on mine, forceful, needy. Scooping an arm around her waist, I picked her up, dropping her on top of the tiny bench, the only bit of kitchen in her room. Nudging her legs open, I stepped in between them; the action firing a response in my groin, all gentleness chased away. And now I crushed my lips against hers, hearing the little gasp tumble from her mouth. Her fingers snaked round my head, pulling me closer, scratching my scalp, the little pricks of pain, hot and delicious, resonating in my stomach and my cock.

I took a chance, sliding my hands down her sides, feeling for the bottom of the white top. I tugged gently, trying to find the end of the fabric, but no matter how I peeled at it, I couldn’t pull the fucking thing up. Pinching the material between my fingertips, I yanked, any subtle intention to strip her top off her lost in the fight. And still the fucking thing wouldn’t budge, anchored somewhere much lower, somewhere she may very well slap me if I ventured there at this point.

“What the fuck is this thing?”

She giggled against my lips, light and beautiful. It was the first time I’d ever heard her laugh, and the sound swelled in my ears.