I screamed. Or tried to. A strong hand slammed down over my mouth to smother my cries. I attempted my knee smash, but was blocked before I could even finish the thought, much less execute the move. The intruder picked me up and tossed me on my bed. My memory foam mattress contoured itself around the shape of my ass.
"You telegraph way too much," a smooth voice said to me. Backyard guy was back.
Ignoring the decadent images that his voice conjured up, I shoved my hand into the Doritos bag which contained about 237% salt, crawled to the edge of the bed, and threw the crumbs in the demon's face. "Burn, fucker!"
The demon glared at me as he wiped orange dust off his cheeks and sweater. "This is cashmere," he said, frowning at the deep blue fabric.