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“This picture looks like it was taken at the accident scene itself,” Detective Sage suddenly said. “As if he was there. The picture on the screen is too clear for it to be a photocopy.” She looked up. “Did you see anybody at the scene?”
“Would’ve been before the ambulance got there,” Downy said.
Lock frowned hard, his eyes opened and unfocused on the world around him as he thought back to the accident that he’d been having a hard time forgetting since yesterday.
He’d woken up from a nightmare the night before, flushed and angry, and all he’d said the next morning was that he was dreaming about the crime scene.
“I remember a car stopped on the top of the overpass and a young man looking over,” he began. “But the angle is all wrong on the photos. If it’d been him, the pictures would’ve been from above.”
Downy leaned his broad shoulders against the wall as he said, “Man could’ve walked down while you weren’t paying attention.”
Lock frowned.
“Maybe…” He shrugged. “I vaguely remember seeing a man up there looking over, but other than that, I don’t recall seeing anyone.”
Detective Sage sighed and leaned back in her chair, throwing her arms behind her head.
“I don’t think, at this stage, there’s really anything I can do,” she admitted. “Other than running prints and holding on to everything. If we do get a hit on the prints, and he happens to be in the system, we can charge him for sexual harassment. But really, there’s not much more I can do but that. It’s sick. It’s gross. But yeah…my hands are tied.”
Lock grunted.
“Figured that,” he said. “Just thought it was majorly fucked up that I was getting them.”
“Hopefully you don’t get anymore,” she admitted. “And if he does, he steps over a boundary that I can actually do something about it.”
Lock stood up and offered Detective Sage his hand, then I did the same.
Downy followed suit and then we were all out the door and headed back to the parking lot.
“Between the shit with your mom and this shit, I’m starting to become very concerned about the world that we’re living in,” Downy muttered darkly as he came to a stop beside his police cruiser.
Lock grunted an affirmative.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’m so fuckin’ ready to get this shit over with.”
“I’m coming,” I said. “To show support.”
Downy flashed me a grin.
“She’d like that.” He paused. “But it’s not necessary. And it’s in the middle of the day, and she’ll need you to open her pride and joy.”
I deflated. “You’re right.”
“But thank you for thinking of her,” Downy said. “I don’t think we’re going to need any extra support, though. Kid’s not getting shit, and from what our lawyer has told us, we’re going to get there, and the judge is likely going to be pissed that the kid is even wasting his time.”
God, I hoped so.
***
Later that night, I was making love to Lock, slowly.
His cock was inside of me, and I was riding him, up and down, all the while with my forehead resting on his.
His hands were clenched on my hips, and our breaths were intermingling as I rode him.
“I’m close,” he breathed, his breath fanning against my wet mouth.
I leaned down and bit his lip.
“Me, too,” I whispered against them.
“You better hurry then,” he said. “Or slow down.”
“If l slow down, I’ll lose it,” I told him bluntly.
He scoffed and pushed me up, forcing me to sit up so that he could reach my clit.
The angle changed, becoming deeper, starting to put the orgasm I’d been building toward further and further back. But then he touched my clit, and it was right back there, hovering at the surface.
Things went fast after that.
My orgasm hit me, and soon, I was riding Lock so hard that I couldn’t breathe, let alone realize that he was on the verge of coming, too.
It was as I was coming down from the high that only Lock could give me that I heard him grunting, felt the wet pulses of his release bathing my insides as he came.
I opened my eyes to see the most tortured expression on Lock’s face as he released inside of me, again and again.
I smiled, working my hips slowly now, watching him come back to himself.
His eyes slowly peeled open, and then he was smiling.
I collapsed onto his chest, and we laid like that for what felt like forever.
“Sometimes,” he said, his chest rumbling underneath my face. “I think that I have my life together. That I know what I want.”
I patted his chest, right above his nipple, and said, “You don’t know what you want?”
He made a disagreeing sound.
“Not really,” he admitted. “Well, I know one thing for sure.”
I lifted up until I could see his face.
“What’s that?” I wondered.
“That you’re there, in every scenario,” he said. “I always wanted to follow my dad’s footsteps. Become a hostage negotiator. Work on the SWAT team…but I like my job right now. Love it, actually.” He paused. “It’s steady. I know when I get to come home every day. I don’t have to leave any time at the drop of a hat. I know that every single day, almost at the same time every day, I’m going to walk out of the department, get on my bike, and come home to you.”
