by Cat Porter
Oh boy, I knew that look.
“Hey baby,” I murmured, my toes curled against the floor.
“Tricky had to go out on a run, everyone else is out for the afternoon. Client’s coming in an hour for his bike,” he said, his voice low. His hand jerked on the pulley rope for the thick venetian blinds, and they clattered down the window.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Right.”
His fingers turned the lock on the door. I bit the inside of my cheek as he prowled across the room. He clicked the lock on the back door which led to the repair shed. He came to the desk and pulled me off my chair and into him. I planted a kiss on his new tattoo just under his eagle. “Grace” in beautiful antique lettering was inked over his heart with a vintage key hanging from the “e”. He had designed a tattoo for me of an eagle flying with a key in its claws. It was inked on my lower abdomen just over the waistband of my panties.
I swirled my tongue over my inked name. The taste of his sweaty skin sent jabs of heat skittering through me.
His breath caught. “Suzi coming in?”
“Nope.” My tongue found one of his dark nipples. He lifted me and sat me on the desk. My fingers removed his bandana and swept through his silky black hair. It had grown just past his chin, and it looked great. It would take another couple of years, maybe more, until it grew to his shoulders. My new favorite indulgence was combing through its silky thickness with my fingers whenever we kissed, while he watched a ballgame on television lying down on the sofa with his head on my lap, and always right before I fell asleep every night, his head against my chest. It was such a simple pleasure, like holding his hand, that I couldn’t live without.
“Jake still going to the movies with Ray?” His fingers curled into the hem of my thin, open necked t-shirt.
I grinned. “Yes, then spending the night with him.”
“Hmm… just confirming.”
He yanked my shirt up and over my head and tossed it on the desk. His head descended and his lips nuzzled over the now burning skin of my chest and up my neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Celebrating our anniversary.”
I smirked. “I thought we did that this morning? A couple of times, in fact.”
He took my key charm into his mouth for an instant then it popped out from between his full lips. “Are you complaining, Mrs. LeBeau?”
“Hell, no. In fact, I was hoping.” I held his face between my hands and kissed him. He fumbled with his jeans and then unfastened mine. I slid off the desk, and he tugged them down my hips. I kicked them off me and pulled his body in between my legs.
“Shit, Grace, are you wearing those…?”
Yes, those crotch-less panties Alicia and Lenore insisted I have were pretty terrific. I had gone back to the boutique and snapped up a few more.
“Fuck me,” Miller breathed.
“That’s the idea,” I said. I spread my legs for his exploring fingers. “More anniversary presents later.”
A growl escaped his throat as he clasped one of my legs and held it high against his shoulder. Miller guided his cock to my entrance. His fingers grazed over the lace of the flimsy panty, and his thumb slid over my clit. He rocked his hips, and my body took him in.
He groaned softly. “Oh shit, yeah.”
“Sweetheart…”
Miller watched his cock thrust into me. His one hand stayed wrapped around my calf against his shoulder, the other pinned my hip down. He thrust out, and my breathing stopped. Everything stopped. He thrust in again, and life made sense once more.
“What you do to me…” I let out a deep moan.
“Love you, Grace,” he said. “Love you so much.”
He rolled his hips into mine over and over again. My body jerked back and forth on top of the desk. My empty mug tumbled on its side, pens and pencils spilled over the edge of the desk, a pile of envelopes cascaded to the floor.
My body tightened, the wave built inside me. “Oh God, every time…”
“Touch yourself, baby,” he said.
“I don’t need it.”
“Do it,” he breathed.
My hand went between my legs. Miller’s eyes darkened, his lips formed a tight O and his breaths came short and quick. He drove faster inside me. That excruciating current pulled me in, and the wave shattered over me. He let out a deep groan and filled me with his sticky warmth.
Miller leaned over me and kissed me. “The clouds have cleared up. Full moon will be perfect tonight,” he murmured. “After dinner, you and me have a date with the Indian.”
I let out a laugh. “Definitely.”
Miller released my one leg and hooked it around his waist along with the other. He freed a breast from a bra cup and nuzzled it with his mouth, while his fingers swept across my chest and lingered on my other breast. My hands slid down his lower back.
“Love watching me in you,” he said against my skin.
“Me too.”
His mouth brushed my lips. “Gotta finish up with that bike. Come see.”
We got dressed. I raised the venetian blinds as Miller unlocked the front door. It was quiet moments like these when I felt truly happy and grateful for all that I had. Yet, still, a gnawing in the pit of my soul poked at me and whispered fragments of impending doom in my ears. I knew it would take a bit more time for those voices to finally quiet, but I was getting there.
I closed my eyes. My brain felt refreshed, my body felt whole and all loved-up. A smile curved my lips. That was my kind of cardio, not that boot camp torture Alicia and Lenore were always dragging me to.
“Babe.” Miller’s fingers went to the wide V of my t-shirt and tugged it down. He grinned at me and planted a kiss on the swell of my breast. I entwined my fingers with his, and he swung open the door.
A streak of bright sunlight gleamed off the red and orange explosion of zig-zags freshly painted over the body of the restored bike out front. My fingers curled in Miller’s firm grasp, and a billow of warm air bathed us both as we stepped outside.
I could not have made this dream come true without a great many wonderful, supportive and very smart people who deserve my big hugs and my sincerest thanks.
To Chelsea Kuhel at Madison Seidler for your editing prowess and for generously answering all my questions so thoroughly.
Lots of hugs and kisses to Tatiana of Vila Design for taking my cover ideas and making them all come true.
To Angela of Fictional Formats for taking away the pain so beautifully with the sweep of her magic formatting wand.
To Billy Blue of Blue Bayer Design NYC for the use of your fantastic original design skeleton key necklace featured on the cover and in my story.
In my research for this story David Charles Spurgeon’s “Bikin’ and Brotherhood: My Journey” provided a spectacular, vivid ride through the life of real 1%’er, “the one in a hundred of us who has given up on society.” Your rough and tumble ride through the outlaw life, your dedication to the brotherhood and your “love of the machine and the freedom of the open road—live to ride, ride to live” through all the many, many grim realities of the life was heartfelt and eye-opening and gave me so much to chew on. Also to Carol and Vlad Ononov of Scenicdakotas.com for their great website and for answering my many questions about the magnificent Dakotas.
To my awesome beta galpals Adele, Angela, Danette, Natalie. Your eagerness, enthusiasm, and feedback always made me smile and kept me moving forward. Thank you for putting up with my sending you new updated versions over and over again and for answering all my questions. To Andrew and Evan, my lone male beta readers and dear friends. You two paid attention to whole other rivers of detail which was absolutely priceless. Your pointed suggestions kept it real, made me re-think the spine of the piece, and helped me spin a much tighter web. Huge. I depend on each of you so very much, you have no idea! To Ellen for her country music guidance. To Carolyn for your cheering me on and your pointed comments.
To Annika for your precise eye and acidi
c mind when proofreading my wordiness and for answering all my grammar questions at all hours and up until the very end. Your relentlessness and generosity are treasures to me, girly. You had me questioning everything with a fresh eye and ear. Very huge.
To Julie Brazeal and everyone at AToMR- my gratitude and joy extend to the moon and beyond! To Madison Seidler for her guidance and support. To all the book bloggers and Facebook groups who took an interest (and special hugs to Cassie at Abibliophobia Anonymous, Ellen and Cathy at The Book Bellas, Dee at Book Boyfriend Reviews, Brandi at Sugar & Spice Book Reviews), your enthusiasm, support, and all the amazing work you do mean so very much to me and always will.
To my cousin Nicholas who first set up my own e-reading app when I first bought a tablet two years ago and thus opened up a brand new world of possibilities to me as an avid reader and a writer. Suddenly I realized the dream could come true, it was in my hands. Thank you for the memorable and very late night shopping trip to the “Great Temple” for my laptop when I finally got to the point of now or die with my commitment to writing full time (and no longer wanted to share computer time with the rest of the family.) And thank you for indulging me and taking me to my very first Harley Davidson store, where, yep, I fell in love. Also, thank you to my cousin Domna, the family R.N., for answering my medical questions.
To Edward who a long time ago in his art gallery every Friday afternoon schooled me in the finer points of drinking top-notch Scottish single malt whiskey, an appreciation I have to this day. My respects, sir.
To my mother who always believed in me first and foremost and pleaded with me to keep writing when I had locked it away for a long while there. To my dad who always believed in me no matter what and had given me his precious copy of Roget’s Thesaurus when I went off to college, changing my inner landscape forever. To my husband who has always supported me in making this dream come true. (And doesn’t freak out too much that the house is in a bit more disarray than usual!)
But most of all, it has to come down to my three children who not only put up with my long, crazed hours of writing day and night and all my emotional wackiness as I live these creatures of my mind, but encouraged me to do it. Their generosity and gentle reminders to feed them a real meal, bake them a treat, resolve an argument, help them with their homework, or simply to play with them gives me the temerity and resolve to keep plugging along even on the days when everything looks and feels so damn grey. You’re my everything.
To my readers, this is truly nothing without you. Thank you for letting my words whisper in your ears and in your hearts. You make it all worthwhile and all the sweeter.
Please connect with me on Facebook and Twitter. Visit my Pinterest page where I have dedicated boards to Lock & Key that I hope you enjoy as much as I do pinning them into creation. (Can’t stop, that thing is addictive…) And please do leave a review wherever you may roam… all are very much appreciated.
xx C
Cat Porter was born and raised in New York City, but also spent a few years in Texas along the way. As an introverted, only child, she had very big, but very secret dreams for herself. She graduated from college, was a struggling actress, an art gallery girl, special events planner, freelance writer and had all sorts of other crazy jobs all hours of the day and night to help make those dreams come true. She has two children’s books traditionally published under her maiden name. She now lives in Athens, Greece with her husband and three children, and freaks out regularly and still daydreams way too much. She is addicted to the History Channel, her iPad, her husband’s homemade red wine, really dark chocolate, and her Nespresso coffee machine. Writing keeps her somewhat sane, extremely happy, and a productive member of society.
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