Under Locke

by Mariana Zapata

  I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  The lump under the sheet was connected to a ropey forearm, which then connected to a wide bicep with an impressive amount of definition even when it wasn’t being flexed.

  Dex’s friggin’ hand was underneath my panties, palming my bare butt cheek.

  Just sleep, he said?

  I tried to roll over but that something on my back was heavy and solid, telling me that it was Dex’s chest, crushing me. So whatever was on my neck had to be part of Dex’s anatomy.

  Holy moly.

  What in the hell had I been thinking agreeing to sleep with him?

  You were thinking that you liked him. That you trusted him.

  If he wasn't a Widow I probably wouldn't be so scared, right? My gut knew the answer was a loud yes. Was that all really that held me back from him? It wasn't his temper, I could deal with that unless he yelled at me. Dex—Charlie—was so much more than his appearance gave him credit for. He was like aloe vera, rough and prickly on the outside, but the inside held all the gooey goodness.

  He'd probably roll his eyes if I ever said that aloud—but it was true.

  Which was why I was trying to be cool about his long fingers cupping my butt. And his breath on my neck.

  When I tried to slide out from underneath him, the hand on my butt swept over to my side to hold me down. “Where you goin’?” Dex asked through sleep strained vocal chords.

  I froze, whispering, “Bathroom.”

  He yawned, his fingers flexing. “Liar. Go back to sleep,” he mumbled, already nuzzling back into that sweet spot of flesh between my hairline and shoulder. More awake now than before, I could clearly feel the warmth of his mouth millimeters away from me.

  “Dex,” I whispered.

  His hand moved across my back to slide completely under the cotton of my panties again, his thumb rubbing a lazy circle on the skin beneath it.

  “Dex!” Yeah, that didn't sound convincing at all.

  “Please go back to sleep.” The heat of his mouth only intensified by a ratio of a thousand to one as he mumbled in reply. My poor body couldn’t handle having big, warm Dex cuddling up to me.

  “I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

  He growled a response, making me break into goose bumps.

  “Dex, c’mon.” I tried to plead but didn’t budge an inch.

  He didn’t say anything, his thumb just continued its languid circles right smack in the middle of my cheek. If anything, I think his upper body got even closer to mine. “Relax, babe,” he finally mumbled.

  Like that was going to happen. My entire body was tense. Telling myself that this wasn’t right was like fighting the pull of the ocean’s tide. It felt unnatural. “I can't.“

  "You can." Dex's smooth palm cupped my cheek and I sucked in a breath. Why the hell was I fighting this?

  “I don't know what I'm doing," I blurted out, slamming my eyes shut.

  His chuckle was smooth and dark. "I know, my sweet baby."

  I should have just given up living after that. Living, fighting, existing. All of it.

  Before I realized what he was doing, his hand was out of my panties, the weight of his body was peeled off my back. Two large, familiar hands clasped onto my ankles immediately afterward, flipping me onto my back.

  And then he was over me.

  On his hands and knees, his beautiful, rugged face full of thick, black stubble was right there. Supple lips, Crayola Blue eyes and Uriel all greeted me.

  If all that wasn't enough to grip my spine, he was shirtless. His smooth, sunkissed skin was taut over hard, carefully crafted muscles he worked on most of the week in his home gym. But then he loomed over me, without the rust of a new friendship like it'd been in Austin. Hell, it wasn’t the same from the week before after his niece’s birthday party…

  Oh boy. Oh. Boy.

  I’d seen him shirtless not too long ago and it didn’t matter at all because his upper body was one of those things that got better every time I saw it.

  The first thing I noticed again were the small stainless steel hoops through his perfect, dark nipples. Little nipples on a muscular chest and above a flawlessly ridged six-pack. A six-pack that led to the sweet slabs of v-shaped muscles that disappeared beneath black boxers...that did nothing hide to the massive tent his groin was pitching.

  And then I remembered he had his dick pierced.

  How the hell I didn’t pass out would be an unsolved mystery. What wasn’t an unsolved mystery was why my mouth went dry. I’m sure that I stopped breathing. Any man or woman would have done the same.

  Dex was… better than anything I'd ever seen on print or television. I could even say celestial if he didn't look like he'd work for the devil instead of the good guys. The dark and colorful lines that spanned nearly all of his upper body heightened his hauntingly ethereal beauty. Over the course of the last couple of months, I’d never seen him wearing anything less than jeans and a t-shirt at all times besides our stint in Houston and the other time we slept in bed together.

  And in that moment I was thankful it had taken so long for me to see him so up-close. Each of the sleeves I’d seen day in and day out bled up and over his shoulders, traps, and pecs. Only his stomach was left without the thick black, blue, gray, and red ink that painted his skin. Uriel, his tattooed octopus, welcomed me in with his big, beautiful details and classic, striking red flesh.

  I dragged my eyes from the sharp colors down to his crotch, and then back up again. I found him watching me with those heavy-lidded bright blue eyes.

  “Goddamn.” His voice had taken on a husky tone that sounded like it was more than just sleep dragging it in. "In what fuckin’ universe did I think I could listen to your brother?"

  Holy lord.

  Apparently, even though I was able to keep from passing out at the glory caging me in, my voice had died a thousand deaths at the perfection that Dex Locke was. So I had to answer him with a shaky, nervous smile.

  “Iris.”

  Oh dear god.

  “I'd never hurt you, baby,” Dex murmured.

  Jesus. This was unreal.

  I wanted him, which was bad, because I knew that I should walk away and act like a decent lady. Like a lady who had seen her mother crumble under the effects that a biker could have on a heart—on an existence. But the man above me wasn't a quitter. He was loyal and caring, and his protection wrapped me up in a cocoon that was all fire and feeling. I could live without it, sure. I could live without it and be perfectly fine, but...that sounded like hell.

  I'd take it, damn it. I'd take this Dex with his awful temper that never made me doubt that he worried and cared though he didn't know how to handle himself most of the time. My body decided to compromise and accept the reality of the tattoos and the focus of the blue eyes that were hooking me in.

  Dex watched me caught like a deer in the headlights, unmoving and scared. The lines of his body were my siren’s song, keeping me in his web as he stayed in place so still. His abs, his biceps, his muscular thighs—which I quickly appreciated in a sweeping gaze—all called to me.

  He snagged my wrist with one hand, gripping the back of my neck with his other. The heat from his body radiated through my clothes, through the foot of distance between us. It didn’t help that I could smell that distinct Dex scent more closely than ever before.

  “Knew the moment I saw you, standin' outside the shop, scared, that you were an innocent little thing. So sweet. So good." He lowered his head to take my chin between his teeth. "You got no idea what it's like for you to give me your trust, Ritz. If I was a good man I'd tell you to find somebody better, somebody that won't lose their shit over an asshole eye fuckin' you."

  His tongue traced the oval shape of my chin. "But I'm not a good man, and I'm gonna take everythin' you want to give me and everythin' you don't."

  Strike me dead. Dead, dead, dead.

  His voice was so gruff and raw, the effect was like having a million Christmas tree lights lit a
long my nerves. And his words. Holy crap. My brain cells couldn’t even process what he was saying without making me lose my breath.

  Dex’s forehead touched mine gently, as if he could sense the emotion bubbling inside of me. “I want it all, baby.”

  My breath was shuddered on an exhale, looking up at the rugged beauty of Dex’s perfectly shaped mouth just centimeters away from me. “Why?” I had to remind him.

  “Why?” he asked in that milky, warm tone.

  “I don't get why you like me. I'm not your type.” Because that was my only defense. I’d never wanted anything, let alone anyone the way I wanted this tattooed, brusque man. But a huge part of me was really worried about why he’d latched onto me.

  He chuckled deep. “Fishin' for compliments again?” His warm breath washed over my lips.

  "No."

  I could feel him smile against me. “'Course not," he murmured, biting my bottom lip. "Where do you want me to start, baby? You wanna know what I like about you besides that sweet ass? And those legs in your little white shorts?”

  His lips touched the corner of my mouth in a brush. “You’ve got the prettiest face I’ve ever seen.” His lips skimmed my jawline, his breath was hot but it gave me goosebumps. “And that smile you give me when you’re givin’ me shit? A fuckin’ smile’s the last thing I’d ever give a shit about before I met you.“ There was a high possibility that he tapped the tip of his tongue against my jawline because I may have made some sort of weird noise in response. “But you crack me up like nobody else. I like that the most.” Dex made a noise in his throat. “Maybe."

  I was flailing on the inside. Flailing and dying over and over again. I dropped my head back and looked at the headboard. “You’re too much.”

  A soft laugh made its way out of his throat. “I kinda think you’re a treasure.”

  That was the breaking point.

  I didn’t care anymore. He was my boss, my brother's friend, a Widow, an ex-felon, and a man that I'd seen casually with other women. But he was everything that gripped me, both the good and the bad. Worst case scenario if things turned awkward between us, I could go somewhere else. I’d gotten over epic heartbreak before, one more wouldn’t kill me.

  I hoped.

  What did I have to lose besides continuing to live my life with carefully constructed walls?

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  I had to hoard all of my guts and resolve together before pressing my lips to his top one. It was a slow mold, easy. Nerves ate at the lining of my stomach anyway as I pulled my mouth just far back enough to kiss his bottom lip in the same way. Two of mine for each one of his.

  I did it again. Kissing his first lip, then his bottom. Easy, chaste kisses that Dex waited patiently through. The kinds of kisses he’d probably outgrown in elementary school. I had just licked my lips with every intention of kissing him again when he pursed his in response, kissing me back with that soft puckered mouth. Soft, soft, soft. His mouth touched my top lip then my bottom. One corner of my mouth, then the other.

  Those kisses were everything that our other two weren’t. Exploratory in a way that made me feel breathless and restless. They were sweet and patient up until he started sucking one lip and then the other between his. Because after that, they got wet. Slow and sensual. Dex slanted his mouth, slipping his tongue in with so much stealth I didn’t realize it until it brushed against mine.

  I whimpered as his arm slid around my back. He dropped his weight until we were flush. My breasts to his chest, stomach to stomach, groin to groin. With only the barrier of my thermal shirt, our underwear, and the thin shorts I slept in, I could feel every inch of him. That included the hard nudge of one of his nipple rings against my bra-less breast.

  Holy crap.

  I’d been kissed before and in between those kisses, I’d put my hand and mouth on one of my two boyfriends. So out of those few times, those few kisses, the porn I'd watched, and the romance novels I'd read, I had a general idea what things were supposed to be like. But with Dex, and his hot insistent mouth, strong, possessive hands, and hard, tattooed, and angelically endowed body, I felt like I’d graduated from high school to college. Better yet, from high school straight to graduate school.

  My hands had somehow managed to find their way to Dex’s waist as his controlling mouth took over. My fingers curled into the hard muscle that cushioned his hips.

  I felt fingers around my waist start to drift lower, slowly gripping the hem of my thermal. I panicked just a little, ready to stop him if he tried to pull my shirt off. I wasn’t built spectacularly. I’d always considered myself pretty average by most standards. My stomach was pretty flat, and my skin was dotted with the occasional freckle.

  I was okay, my body was okay, but I wasn't ready for him to know about my arm. Not yet.

  So even though I knew I wasn’t shaped like a model or a bombshell, like I envisioned Dex might have been used to from what I'd seen him with before, I wasn’t too insecure. But he tugged my shirt up, up, up. Over my belly-button, over my ribs, and over my breasts until he stopped. Thank you, thank you, thank you. He stopped, bunching my shirt just underneath my collarbones. But as Dex’s eyes landed on my bare upper body, trailing a hot path over my clavicles and landing specifically and what seemed like permanently on my breasts, I got a little self-conscious but not enough to cover myself.

  With a sigh, he grazed the backs of his fingers over my nipples making them pucker immediately. Dex’s other hand reached up so that his thumb rested directly beneath a swell. He tested the weight of it by lifting his finger. “Iris," he said, drawing out the consonant in a hiss.

  “Mmm?”

  The backs of his fingers brushed over my nipple again. “Perfect, baby.” He muttered, pinching the tightened peak with his thumb and index finger, making me gasp at the sensation. “Love your pretty tits.”

  I was on the verge of telling him thank you for a compliment I’m sure he was being too free with, when his head dipped down and his lips pursed around the nipple he’d squeezed. He sucked the little bud softly, tongue laving over it each time.

  Dex’s mouth opened wider, taking in as much of my soft flesh as he could. With his teeth and lips, he nipped, sucked, and lapped over and over again.

  All I could think was holy friggin’ shit.

  Iridescent blue eyes were open and taking my face in with each tug of his hard sucks, and if what he was doing wasn’t the hottest thing in the history of the world, then Dex watching me while he did it, was. These whimpering noises deep in the back of his throat vibrated through me, turning me on just as much as what he was doing was.

  I was mumbling stuff that made no sense. A mix of “Dex…God…Dex…shit,” and words in between that were the opposite of logical.

  His breath was hot across my chest as he moved to bite my other nipple gently. I wanted to touch him before I burned to death from the intensity of our contact. My hands moved to cup his head, his shoulders. A back-and-forth trek that had me grazing over the short, silky ends of his messy, sleepy dark hair.

  His mouth finally pulled away from my chest after a lazy lap at each wet nipple. Dex’s heavy eyes were on me, lips slightly parted before his mouth was on mine again, taking all of me without a second thought as his hand cupped over my shorts. His fingers slipped up one of my legs, pulling my bottoms and underwear to the side, his pads grazing over the seam of my sex.

  He made a husky, raw noise in his throat. “Jesus,” he murmured over my mouth, fingertips grazing over the moist line of my lower body.

  I was too turned on to care that I was, in fact, really wet, and too wrapped up in my own little world to care that I had a damp spot on my underwear to tell that story. And that little—or maybe not so little—spot was held captive by Dex’s palm.

  All of his fingers except his thumb fell away, leaving his thickest digit to brush lightly along the slit. “You’re so hot, baby.”

  Holy crap. Holy crap.

  Dex swept his thumb over me
again and again. He didn’t ask for permission when his index finger spread me wide, his thumb brushing over me once more with a feather-light touch.

  Oh my sweet lord. Holy craaaaap.

  I dropped my head to the pillow below me, breathing hard as he parted me open, letting the heat of his hand sweep over me. “Iris, Iris, Iris,” he chanted, one of his fingers grazing directly between my legs before continuing its path lower until the tip of a long finger dipped into me. Then dipped deeper. Dex’s eyes closed before he slid it gradually completely inside, palm flush against my outer flesh.

  I panted. There wasn’t anything else to do besides call him God, or moan and beg him to do whatever he wanted except stop. What had I been so scared of? Someone please tell me. It felt like drowning and being born at the same time. He pulled his finger out slowly, the crease between his eyebrows furrowing with the movement before he slid it back in completely with a husky groan.