Locked In (Locked in Love) (Volume One): An Alpha Billionaire Romance
Page 5
Digging in my laundry, I find two crumpled dollars. That’s a dollar menu item and a dollar for the shower.
Private Investigation? Clearly glamorous.
Locke
“She’s here, sir.” My personal assistant, Ben, who doubles as my butler, interrupts my work.
There is a heap of work to be done before tonight and Elise’s arrival was the only reason he should disturb me. In front of me are lists of the items I’ve either already received or will be before the end of the afternoon.
Most of the jewels are standard. Enormous sapphire necklaces. A gold necklace from a French King’s court. Two rings with signets of kings. There are smaller pieces that have less history, less gold, less precious stones. Those are for warming the audience up. The highlight of the evening, and the reason over one hundred families from around the globe are coming to my home in Raleigh, is the Kane Ruby.
The Kane Ruby. Recently relinquished by a museum, it is trusted into my keeping and auction. The proceeds will help save the museum’s other collections. Weighing in at an impressive thirty five carats, the Burmese ruby has been cushion-cut and set in a ring of 24-carat gold, embraced by two one-carat diamonds. The stone was discovered in the 1930’s, the ring itself made in 1948. It’s stunning, a piece of art.
It is also valued at seven and a quarter million dollars. Because it’s been in a museum’s care for so long, it’s release back into the market is highly anticipated.
Currently it is in my newest safe, the Locked Titanium. Tonight is it’s big test.
You know how large corporations hire hackers to try and break into their mainframes and databases? Well, I do that for my safes.
Tonight, there will be three different thieves that would be world-renowned… if the world knew about them, all trying to break into the safe. Should they successfully crack it, I’ll pay them more than the ruby is worth.
How do I know about the thieves? Well, the world of art and jewels is exceptionally small. The world of thieves and forgers microscopic. And with my kind of money and contacts? I am able to straddle them both.
“Sir, she’s climbing the fence.” Ben manages to sound amused and annoyed at the same time.
“I’m coming.” Looking over the papers, we’re only short three shipments. I’ve been assured the armored trucks are en route for delivery, so now I just need to arrange the final details of the auction.
I need to arrange Elise where I want her.
There’s a throb in my cock. Last night I dreamed of her. Her plump, large hips under my hands, her pussy wet, waiting for me, that gorgeous and full mouth of hers in an “O” of ecstasy--
The woman is climbing my fence, trying to break into my home, and all I want is to fuck her until she’s screaming my name.
I think of how readily she was willing to let me push her in her office. My dick is hard as a crowbar now. Imagination has always been a strong suit of mine. I can picture her tied up, the ropes biting into that plump flesh, forcing her to be open and ready for me--
“Sir,” Ben is still amused and irritated, but now his frustration is directed at me. “She’s approaching the inner fence.”
“Is it turned on?”
“You never asked me to turn it off.”
“Fuck,” I curse and start running, Ben on my heels. I have several panels for my security throughout my home. All of them are hidden and only Ben and I know the full sequence to dismantle them.
Rushing to a Picasso, I push it aside quickly. There’s a monitor behind it. It shows Elise standing in front of the electric fence, her hand outstretched, hovering. Jesus, if she touches it, that’s 5,000 volts she’s not expecting. Quickly my fingers type in the code to grant me access.
My heart is pounding and I’m afraid I won’t be there in time--
Why is she hesitating?
There’s an audible click as the switches are released. “So help me God, Ben, if she fries--”
Elise grins and moves to grab the fence. Her fingers connect as I flip the switch for the electric fence and my eyes are plastered to the screen, waiting to see her body hurled back from the shock.
Instead, she locks her hand on and begins testing the weight limit of the fence.
I’m the one who’s shocked. I know I didn’t make it in time.
“Crisis averted, Sir,” Ben chuckles from behind me.
I casually check my other systems. Nothing that could harm Elise is online. If I’d had taken a moment, I’d have seen it, but there hadn’t been a moment. I turn to face Ben.
His blond hair is buzzed close. I’m tall, over six-three, but he’s tall. A mammoth at six foot six and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle. We found each other at boarding school, and then reconnected after he finished with the Army.
Ben is the only person I trust in the world. He’s also the only person I wouldn’t kill for this kind of prank.
“You son of a bitch,” I growl.
He shrugs but his shoulders are still shaking with laughter. “After all you said about this girl last night, I just assumed you wouldn’t want her dead.”
My gaze darkens and my fists clench. “I didn’t say anything except that she was coming over and to please inform me when she arrives.”
“That’s more interest in a girl than you’ve shown, well, ever.”
Glowering at him, I look back at the monitor. Sure enough, Elise is scaling the fence. The little minx is breaking into my property. Apparently she decided when she left the PD behind she also left the law behind.
A tiny grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.
“Are her things ready?”
“You know they are. You checked three times this morning.”
I slide the painting back in place. Picasso isn’t really my thing, but it impresses my guests.
“You’re testing me, Ben.” It’s time to find Elise before she gets into too much trouble. I’m pissed off at Ben, but not enough to do anything about it. Let him poke his fun. He only does it because while I’m also his employer, I’m his friend. We look out for each other. “See to the police when they show up, please.”
“Yessir.”
Stalking through the halls of my large home, my hand rakes through my hair. Ben’s prank isn’t really a bad one. I just don’t like being called out, and I especially don’t like that I’m showing too much interest in the curvy private investigator.
She’s in the garden. Slowing my stride, I’m able to watch her, sheltered by a column.
Elise is in a similar uniform to what she wore yesterday. Her trench coat is open and wrinkled, a navy color that highlights the piercing blue of her eyes. Her brown hair is down, and it’s lighter than I thought. The sunlight catches it and it is closer to a champagne color, shimmering in soft waves down her back.
Yesterday my fist was wrapped in that hair and now it itches to grab it again.
She bends over to look at large, pink bloom. My eyebrow shoots up. The garden is one of those luxuries, like the Picasso, I have to impress guests. What she’s looking at, though, is its crown jewel.
A camellia, the Middlemist Red. In my chest, my heart beats a little quicker. I don’t know if it is because I’m afraid she’ll recognize the flower, or if it is because bent over like that, I can see down the “v” of her shirt and she’s not wearing a bra.
One of her large nipples peeks at me from this view and that’s it-- I need her. Now.
I open the glass door that leads to this section of garden and greenhouse. Immediately Elise bolts up as if she were caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Mr. Locke--”
“Just Locke.” Mr. Locke was my father. The name had been important to him. I wanted to let him keep it.
She huffs, her cheeks blooming the same deep crimson as the flowers she was just so enthralled with. “Locke. Nice place you have here.”
It is a nice place. Over twenty thousand square feet, it’s considered modest for a man of my wealth. But I prefer multiple properties. I hav
e places all over. It seemed silly and extravagant to build any larger than I already did, seeing as I’m not here all year.
And I share the home with no one.
“I see you found it easily,” I offered, not mentioning how she bypassed the front door or that she was over an hour early.
Her hands tugs at the hem of her shirt, which in turn exposes the top parts of her breasts. Creamy white flesh beckons to me.
“It was no problem,” she retorts casually. She’s testing me. I recall our phone conversation from yesterday. How dead-set she is on busting me. Elise is here to try and discover all my secrets. Let her try. Others have in the past and those who came close? I buried them.
Yet as I beckon to her, guiding her through the door I’m holding with a hand on her lower back, I get a thrill. There’s something about this girl that’s different. She’s sexy as hell, and Jesus, she has a smart mouth on her.
I wonder if this is what she feels like, being faced with my mystery. A burning need to keep digging, to find out what makes me special. Because I sure as hell feel it for her, and that’s a distraction that makes things complicated. Dangerous.
But hey… maybe I need a little danger?
As we walk through my home to my office, I love how her eyes dart all around. Collecting. Her face is serious and calm as she catalogues my things.
More important, she’s wearing those jeans again. I trail behind her a moment, glancing at her gorgeous, round ass. Elise has curves that dance as she walks. The softness of her body works beautifully with her sharp mind.
By the time we reach my office, I can’t keep my hands off her.
As she goes through the doorframe, I grab Elise’s hips in my hands, pushing her face-front against the doorframe. My hard cock is pressed between her asscheeks, rubbing back and forth.
I bring my mouth to her ear, grinding myself on her. “There’s a price for breaking in, Miss Martin.”
One hand releases her hip and slides up, under her shirt, to grab her bare breast. The nipple is already hard and I roll it between my fingers until she gasps.
The list of things I need to do to prepare for tonight is monstrous. This is a distraction I hadn’t planned on.
But I hadn’t planned on Elise Martin ensnaring my interests, either.
Roughly, I shove her into the office and shut the door behind us.
Elise
Locke caught me off guard. One minute I’m taking in his home (he’s quite a collector) and the next minute I’m shoved against a doorframe and he’s grinding on me. Before I can protest, he’s whispering a warning in my ear.
There’s a price to pay for breaking in, Miss Martin.
The sexual menace in Locke’s voice is like kerosine to my body, setting it on fire. My pussy flooded and my nipples tightened and now I’m in his office, watching him shut the door. Locking me in with him.
Jameson Locke is like a panther. He’s dressed down today, jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his muscles in the most delicious way. There’s something endearing about a billionaire in a t-shirt. Of course, knowing him, that piece of jersey still costs more than half my rent.
Padding on bare feet, he’s stalking me. I want to be angry, to demand my way out. Instead, I find myself backing away until I hit his loaded bookshelf. Leather-bound volumes press into my back and there’s nowhere to go.
Wiping my palms on my jeans, I shake my head to clear it.
“I can’t sleep with clients,” I say, my voice strained. “Bad business.”
He takes a few steps closer to me and my body is flushing, heated. “Have you accepted money from me yet? Signed a contract?” His blue eyes are flashing with predatory lust.
“No,” I whisper.
“And did you break into my property this morning? Illegal trespassing?”
Yes and no. I assumed I was being watched, but I wanted to see what systems he had in place and--
Locke is right in front of me, his body pressing close. The warmth of him, the sheer sexual energy he exudes, is overwhelming. He’s not wearing cologne today, just smells fresh. Like man.
He braces and arm on either side of my head. “Either you submit to a punishment, or I call your Chief and send him the video of you jumping my fence.”
Fuck. That would be weeks of paperwork, maybe a night in a cell… and no paycheck.
Anger boils in me. He’s blackmailing me now to have sex with him. I feel a bit set up, and although I walked straight into it, it doesn’t irk me any less. The salt in the wound is that at this moment? My body is revving. I want him to punish me, because if I’m gauging the look in his eyes and his none-too-subtle body language, punishment is going to feel good.
“You’re an asshole. Do you always have to trick girls into fucking you?”
He gives me this sideways grin, dark hair flopping in his face, and leans closer. “I didn’t have to trick you yesterday,” he rasps. His hand palms my breast and squeezes hard. Pleasure jolts straight to my core and I can’t help it-- I moan.
“I take it you’re choosing the punishment,” he goads.
“I don’t think I have a lot of choice,” I whimper as my leg hooks his hip, bringing the rod in his pants to grind against my sensitive pussy.
His mouth crushes onto mine, tongue seeking. I open for him, instinctively, melting against him. Locke’s grip on my breast is firm and he kneads it, manipulating my flesh until I’m grinding helplessly against him, panting into his dominating kiss.
My fingers grip the edge of his shirt and I try to pull it up but he stops me. Locke’s hands circle my wrists, pulling them overhead. I feel stretched, exposed. His hips keep me pinned to the bookshelf.
“Naughty girl. Punishment first, then pleasure.”
I’m so hungry for his cock. This delay and teasing is overwhelmingly frustrating. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“It means I’m going to spank your ass until you cream all over yourself,” he growls, “and then I’m going to fuck your pussy until you come again.”
My flesh is blazing. Everywhere he touches me singes with heat and need. But being spanked by this asshole? Like I’m some kind of naughty schoolgirl?
Except… fuck, it’s so hot the way he says it. There is a dark promise in his words and I believe for a moment he really can make me come by spanking me.
“Fine,” I spit, trying to remain defiant.
Locke smiles, seeing through the guise. He releases my wrists. “Pull those tight jeans down. Panties, too. And then bend over my desk.”
“How about I just turn around here, you can get your kicks by hitting a woman, and then we can jump right into the sex?”
His gaze flashes and I feel a ripple of fear. So far, challenging Locke has been more like a game. Something about this new look, though, scares me a little. It turns me on a lot. “Bend over the desk now, P.I., or I’ll just give the punishment and deny the pleasure.”
Shame is crawling through my sensitive skin. I don’t understand why. He’s threatening me. Bullying me! Yet somehow, I am the one embarrassed? Worried about displeasing him?
What’s happening to me?
He peels himself off me and waits as I shuffle to his desk. My hands are shaking as I unbutton my jeans, sliding them down, my panties going with them.
Locke steps close behind me. Gently, he removes my trench coat, hanging it on a hook by the door. I feel ridiculous, standing with my pants around my ankles, my ass hanging out, my t-shirt still on.
“Bend over the desk, please.” The ‘please’ is there as a formality. Locke’s tone allows for no disagreement. Whatever we’re doing, there’s a crackle in the air, and suddenly I’m afraid it’s going to change. The game is going to change. He warned me that he plays for high stakes. I thought I was being clever when I agreed.
Now, as I lean over his desk, exposing my ass and sopping slit to him (two times in two days I’ve let this man, a stranger, bend me over desks), I feel like I charged in without learning all the rules.
His words zing through me, lighting me up. It makes me feel fluttery to know hear that the undeniable attraction I feel, so heady it makes me lose common sense in a heartbeat, might be mutual.