Locked

by KB Winters

  His lips kicked up into one of those casual, lazy grins that had my knees going wobbly, and I leaned against my car to avoid embarrassing myself.

  “The proof is right here, with me taking a look at why your car won’t start.”

  Before I could say anything, he had the hood up and handed me his phone with the flashlight app burning bright.

  “Hold this,” he ordered.

  I glued my gaze to his forearms, golden brown from too many hours in the sun, with a thick coating of dark hair wrapped around them. They highlighted the muscles every time he moved. My mouth watered at the sight, which was when I realized I should’ve gone inside the barn, at least for my own sanity.

  I had a reason for coming here, after months of avoiding the place. Plain and simple. Basic, no not basic, it was base. Put simply, I needed to get laid, and Wheeler was too tempting a choice.

  And a terrible choice. A very terrible choice considering his connection to my only real friend in this whole damn town.

  “So, what do you say?” Wheeler looked down at me, a smile playing on his lips and amusement dancing in his eyes.

  I blinked, confused because I still had my gaze focused on his forearms and cooling the temperature of my body from said gaze. “About what?”

  “Me. Giving you a ride home. You know, on account of your broken down car?”

  “I thought you were going to fix it for me.”

  “Busted starter. We’ll deal with getting it towed into town tomorrow. What’d you’d expect from a European tin can.”

  “European? And let me guess, Wheeler. You drive something big and American, probably a gas guzzler too.” Because that would just make the stereotype complete, wouldn’t it?

  “If you say so, Doc.” He always had to be so mysterious, didn’t he?

  Well, I wasn’t intrigued by that particular mystery, so I waved a hand in front of us and sighed. “Then lead us to the paragon of American manufacturing brilliance and masculinity.”

  He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher and began to walk. I followed behind, absolutely not staring at his long muscular legs. Or his ass that looked tight enough to bounce off a few quarters, a theory I was sorely tempted to test.

  “Got me all figured out, huh, Doc?”

  “Not at all.” Some things I could figure out. He’d been in the military and come out with a pretty serious case of PTSD that he was doing his damnedest to hide from everyone. That didn’t take a genius to diagnose, though. I’d seen enough cases of PTSD in emergency rooms throughout my career, from medical school in Colorado and then completing my residency in Houston, a fellowship in Maryland and then moving to Opey. Gunshot wounds, domestic violence, random acts of crime, heart problems. It affected everyone differently. Too often, the effects stuck with them for a long time.

  “Just a bit of deductive reasoning.”

  He snorted, and came to a stop beside a black monstrosity I could barely see in the darkness swamping the property.

  “You like using big words, don’t you?”

  I blinked and let my gaze crawl up his body, stopping at his stupid handsome face.

  “Oh, is this the part where you say something disparaging about ‘smart chicks’ or something equally unique?”

  His blue gaze never left mine as his hands fisted on his hips, one dark brow lifted, challenging me. “See, all figured out.”

  The man was so damn frustrating that a low growl came from somewhere deep inside my throat.

  “Whatever, Wheeler.” I rounded the big black SUV and waited for him to unlock the doors. Better to get this ride over as soon as possible.

  ***

  “Thanks for the lift.” Before Wheeler even had a chance to shift his car into park, I had the door open and one foot already on the newly paved driveway I had installed sometime last year.

  “That eager to be rid of me?” His deep voice sounded a second before the door shut, and I suppressed a groan. Wheeler had a way of making me feel like the guilty party, when really, I steered clear of him because of his bad attitude and constant surliness.

  “Eager to be back at home.” As much as I wanted, no needed, to get laid, I wasn’t sure The Barn Door was the right venue for me. I wasn’t a prude, not by anyone’s standards, but small town living was a big adjustment. I couldn’t just get lost in the crowd and become anonymous. That meant I needed to be careful.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking going there, anyway.”

  Wheeler killed the engine and stepped from the SUV, tall and graceful, wide and purposeful. He walked like the whole army followed him. Always.

  “You were thinkin’ like everyone else in there. It’d be nice to get a good hard fuck in before the week starts up.”

  Pretty much. “Of course that’s what you’d think.” I scoffed.

  He snorted and leaned against the hood. “There’s no puttin’ lipstick on that particularly slutty pig, sweetheart. But, hey, that’s okay. I’m not judging.”

  No, he wasn’t judging. He was mocking. Me. “Right. Well, good night Wheeler.” I whirled on my heels, upset that I’d gone through the effort of getting dressed up in heels and sexy lingerie, all for nothing.

  “Aren’t you gonna invite me up for a nightcap, Doc?”

  His words stopped the movement of my feet instantly. I turned, slowly, to face him because I had to have misheard that tone. It sounded like he was inviting himself up for a bit of carnal exercise, but it couldn’t be. Could it?

  “You thirsty, Wheeler?”

  His lips slowly curled up into a seductive smile, the kind that had blood slogging through my veins like lava, hot and thick. Dark with promise.

  “I could go for a drink,” he said.

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten—hell, twenty—as goosebumps broke out all over my skin. If I invited him up, there was no mistake what would happen. I had no doubt in my mind it would be hot as hell. Satisfying. And a really, really bad idea. Wheeler had issues, but his issues weren’t my problem. He wasn’t trying to be my boyfriend. He wanted what I wanted. Physical release. And that decided it for me.

  I took a step backwards and let a slow, hopefully seductive smile cross my face as I looked up at him. “Wheeler, would you like to come up for a nightcap?”

  “I’d like that very much, Annabelle.”

  My legs felt stiff and also filled with liquid as I walked up the small blue wooden porch I’d repainted last summer. I shoved the first key and then the second, into the lock. Once the door opened and then closed, this would happen. I wanted it, I did. But I was still nervous and afraid.

  The heat of Wheeler’s body seeped into my already overheated frame. I took two steps beyond the threshold just to clear my head and slow my heart. Yeah, that was better. “What would you like to—”

  Wheeler stepped inside and kicked the door closed with his big, booted foot.

  “No more talking, Annabelle.” Then his mouth was on mine, and I didn’t give a damn about a nightcap or my nerves or whether this was a bad idea, because his mouth on mine was a good idea.

  A damn good idea.

  A moan slipped out of my mouth and into his, and Wheeler’s big hands tightened on my hips. He sandwiched my body between his massive frame and the hard wall, a constant pressure that only accelerated my pulse even further.

  “Yes,” I moaned when his mouth moved from my mouth and down my jawline, then to my neck before his lips centered gently on my collarbone. “Oh, fuck, yes,” I moaned.

  He chuckled against my skin, the deep sound reverberated through my chest and back, intensifying the sexual high I had going on as his hands tangled in my thick brown hair.

  “Annabelle.” It came out as a soft growl and I tilted my head back, allowing him to capture my mouth again.

  Then his hands began to move. Everywhere. Down my back, cupping my ass and resting on my hips. Then his rough fingers slid under my little black dress, fingertips playing along my hips, the waistband of my thong a
nd then finally, the sensitive flesh at the swell of my breasts.

  His touch was firm, slightly rough but somehow also inherently gentle. But I wasn’t feeling so gentle as his big, rough hands quickly drove me out of my mind.

  My hands went to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, gasping at the visual of Wheeler without his shirt.

  “Shit, you’re beautiful,” I thought his face, chiseled and rugged but unmistakably gorgeous was a masterpiece, but damn his torso nearly put it to shame. A dark smattering of hair covered his upper chest, light brown nipples playing peek-a-boo as the hair led down to a thick line that bisected an incredible abdomen, complete with scars, tattoos and a mouthwatering six pack.

  He let out a deep chuckle as his own hands moved lightning quick to remove my dress, and he stepped back to let his gaze roam over my body as thoroughly as a caress.

  “I think you took the words right out of my mouth, Doc.”

  The way he spoke, his voice deep and thick with arousal, sent a bolt of lightning zipping through my body, so fierce I thought it might tear me apart. Wheeler was ready, mouth and hands slowly driving me out of my mind as I stood there, wrapped around his body in nothing but a bright red thong and black stilettos.

  From there it was all frenetic movements of arms and legs, hands and mouths. Our bodies moved like they were possessed by pure, driven lust and nothing more. Wheeler kissed my neck and my shoulders as one hand slipped inside my panties until his middle finger found my pussy, wet and pulsing, rubbing slow, drugging circles around my clit.

  “Wheeler,” choked out of my throat.

  I felt his grin a moment before that delicious tongue scraped across my nipple and pulled it into his mouth, sucking hard and letting his teeth sink into the sensitive skin just enough to sting but not hurt.

  “So fucking sweet,” he growled and put a hand to my wrist, stopping the progress I made on his button and zipper. “Not yet.”

  “Now,” I told him because there was no way in hell I could wait, not with the way his fingers played my body like a master violinist. “Right. Now.”

  He let out a low growl, but I wasn’t at all deterred, shoving his pants and boxers down to reveal his cock to me. “Yes.”

  He chuckled and grabbed my wrist again. “Annabelle.” His voice held a warning but I couldn’t hear it, not with the way my name rolled off his tongue. It only made me want him more.

  “Wheeler,” I said, just as determined as he was to have my way. I wrapped a hand around his cock, thick and long, maybe a full eight inches. Or maybe wishful thinking, either way, I wanted his cock. I wanted him.

  Now.

  My hand went to his chest and I pushed him against the other wall in my front hall, not caring at all when the photos fell to the floor. “No. More. Talking.” I was done talking, my body was wound up too tight thanks to his thick, talented fingers and now all I wanted was that long, thick cock pounding into me.

  I let my right hand slide down to cup his balls, and Wheeler rewarded me with a low, guttural groan.

  “Fuck, Annabelle.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” I told him, and because I couldn’t resist any longer, I dropped to my knees, getting a semi-good glance at his cock in the dim light of the front hall. It was long and thick, hard and throbbing, my mouth watering as I whispered, “Damn, Wheeler.”

  “You’re good for my ego…Doc.” The last word came out strained as I wrapped my lips around his cock, tasting every inch of him before I took him deep. “Oh fuck, Anna…shit.”

  I smiled around him and closed my eyes for several seconds, letting his grunts and moans act as the soundtrack to this encounter. He was longer than I thought, thicker too, and it turned me on even more, so I took him deeper and deeper still. He tasted good, like man and musk and sweat.

  His hand reached out and sifted through my hair before he got a good handful of it, grabbing it just hard enough to send another wave of wetness between my thighs.

  “Annabelle.”

  “Hmm?”

  Those piercing blue eyes darkened at the vibrations and his lips twitched at the corners. “Enough.”

  “You sure? You seem…close.”

  “Too close,” he bit out and helped me to my feet, walking down the hall as if he’d been here a thousand times before. “Perfect,” he said when he spotted the dark green sofa. “That’s where I wanna fuck you.”

  Yes, please. Maybe the devil took hold of me, or maybe it was just the innate masculinity oozing from Wheeler’s pores calling out to me, but I stared at him for a minute and then the high arms of the sofa, then I looked back at him with a smile.

  “Fuck, yeah.” I leaned over the arm, legs wide and back arched to give him an excellent view of how soaked my panties were.

  “Doc, you’re fucking perfect.” His pants were already halfway around his ankles so all I heard was the crinkle of a condom wrapper as he slid my panties to the side, and then a primal growl as his cock slowly entered me from behind.

  “Oh fuck. Hot. Tight. Wet.” He sank to the hilt and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as my hands white-knuckled the sofa.

  “Yes, Wheeler.” Something happened to my brain when he pulled out and pushed into me over and over again. The only two words I could seem to remember were his name and the word ‘yes’, moaning them over and over as he pounded into me, making me feel better than I had in a very long time.

  Something felt like it snapped or changed in him, his strokes became less graceful, more frantic as if he was just as on edge as I was, clutching it tight to prolong the feeling. He stayed silent, focused on nothing but giving himself to me, giving me absolute pleasure from head to toe. Then his hips moved faster and faster, his legs trembled and his grip on my hips tightened, and a loud smack on my ass filled the air.

  “Annabelle, fuck!”

  The word came out on a roar as he pounded hard and fast into me, his own pleasure pouring out and igniting a fire that practically melted my veins. It was a combination of fire and an explosion, something I couldn’t explain, only to say that it was powerful.

  And dangerous.

  Pleasure coursed through my veins and then my body went limp against the sofa. Wheeler’s found his orgasm and it stole his legs, adding more weight to my burden and something else.

  Something cold. Hard. Something cold, hard and metal, attached to Wheeler’s leg. Instantly I knew what it was. I could wonder how it happened. What the fuck it was, but in the moment, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the aftershocks that tore through both of us. “That was…worth the trip to The Barn Door,” I said on a breathless laugh.

  Wheeler stood and pulled me up to my feet. “Damn. You gotta work on your compliments, Doc.”

  Ah, we were back to Doc again. I schooled my features and turned, keeping my eyes on his too good-looking face before letting them trail down his sweat-slicked body, hair mussed and his chest damp all the way down to his semi-hard cock. Still. And then I saw it, the prosthesis on his left leg, just below the knee. It was state of the art, black and chrome, probably lightweight considering I hadn’t noticed over the past few months when my gaze would inevitably turn to him. But the way he held himself so straight and stiff, like he expected a negative reaction, told me a lot.

  “Maybe I do,” I told him and kicked off my stilettos. “Or maybe you’ll earn a better compliment after round two.”

  His shoulders relaxed and he took a step forward, intent burning black in his eyes. “You know what, Annabelle?”

  “What’s that, Wheeler?”

  “I like the way you think.” And to prove it, he carried me to my bedroom and gave me round two, three and four before we both passed out in my king sized bed.

  I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find him gone when I woke the next morning.

  ***

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