The Lost Locket

by Marie Harte

  The sounds of their panting, the little moans James made in the back of his throat, shoved Keegan’s libido into overdrive. He didn’t understand it. But as he touched himself, it wasn’t Carol or another woman he saw in his mind’s eye, but James coming over her ass. James fucking her, James laughing, his full lips parted around a bottle, the same size as a cock…

  “Oh fuck. Yes,” James hissed and came hard. Jets of cum washed over his hand as he moaned, milking his cock.

  “So fucking hot,” Keegan heard himself say.

  Then James was off the bed and kneeling in front of him. Keegan couldn’t stop himself from meeting the man halfway. He gripped James by the hair and pulled him close, all but coming as James took his cock deep and sucked.

  “James. Suck me, oh yeah. Right there. So good,” he groaned and pumped a few more times before he couldn’t hold on any longer. “I’m gonna come so hard.

  Swallow me. Oh shit!” He came harder than he ever had in his life. The explosion went on and on as James swallowed down his semen, licking and stroking Keegan into a world of sensitized pleasure and pain.

  He ground against James’s face, holding the soft strands of his hair tight as he knew a peace he’d always been searching for. As he softened and his heart rate finally settled down, he caressed James’s head and uttered hoarse words of thanks. James pulled his mouth away. He rose to his feet, winked once at Keegan, his dick semihard and still hanging out from when he’d jerked himself off, and then he strode into the bathroom and closed the door softly behind him.

  Keegan stared blindly at the door, not sure what to do or how to feel as the import of what he’d done hit him. In a daze, he set himself to rights, shoved his hat on his head, and grabbed the key card James had earlier set on the table. Then he walked out of the room without any idea of where he was headed.

  James knew he’d miscalculated very, very badly. But fuck, he was only human.

  Lusting after the man when he knew his feelings weren’t returned was one thing.

  But knowing Keegan now saw him differently, that the man on some level wanted what James had to offer, had tempted him beyond reason. Carol had been a solid buffer they’d needed. Too bad James hadn’t looked around for another woman to play with before heading up to the room tonight.

  While he hadn’t been kidding Keegan about suffering from worsening bursts of fire inside, he had enough willpower to control it, especially after their small workout at that run-down motel.

  No. You just had to ruin it and get greedy. The man barely consented to a threesome last night, and you think he’s ready for mutual masturbation and a blowjob? Asshole. He called himself all kinds of names as he banged his head on the wall. When he heard the outer door close, he swore out loud.

  Keegan wasn’t a homophobe. He was a decent guy, a sexy cowboy who treated others fairly, and a dangerous man to have on one’s bad side. And now James also knew that his cum tasted like salted sugar. Holy fuck, blowing him was a dream come true, but because he hadn’t waited, hadn’t been as patient as he should have been for step number two in the seduction of Keegan Price, he might have forfeited his friendship as well as his chance to see where a new relationship with Keegan might take him. “Fuck me. And we still have another few days of forced togetherness until we hit Jackson Heights. Shit!”

  After his shower and the sleep that sucked him in surprisingly quickly, James rose in the morning still uneasy about last night. He hadn’t heard Keegan return, but to his relief, he saw his buddy sleeping, hanging half off his bed. He wore all his clothes, but James thought that had less to do with any fear of James attacking him than that he smelled like a liquor store.

  They were in no rush to leave. The plan was to hit Louisiana by way of San Antonio. I10 straight across. Boring terrain, but the fastest way to drive.

  Keegan didn’t move. The cowboy lay passed out on the bed, his hat on the floor under his outstretched hand. James wanted to help him, but he wasn’t sure how upset Keegan might be when he woke, and he didn’t want to add to Keegan’s probable sense of vulnerability.

  James had played him, no doubt. But in the process, he’d been snared as well.

  His mouth still watered for more of that magnificent cock, and as he dressed and left for breakfast, he warned himself over and over again to leave well enough alone.

  He paid for an extended stay at the front desk, though he thought they’d leave in a few hours. He could only hope Keegan wouldn’t hate him for what had happened.

  It wasn’t like I had a gun to his head. I didn’t rape him. Yet all the arguing with himself in the world couldn’t convince him he’d done the right thing by his friend. He knew how hard it had been to acknowledge his own odd needs and attractions, and he’d had years to deal with it. At the beginning, though, it had felt like he didn’t belong anywhere, not with gays or straights. He could only be thankful for his loving family.

  From what he knew about Keegan’s folks, they were nice people with traditional roots deep in the heart of Texas. Where men were men—macho cowboy types who ranched and rode and didn’t fuck other men. James knew Keegan had close ties to his family. What would the Prices have to say if they learned their son had let another man suck his cock? Annoyed with society in general for being so goddamn judgmental, James drank a shitload of coffee and barely touched his breakfast. He loitered in the hotel restaurant, reading the paper, then cursed himself for being such a pussy.

  Avoidance wouldn’t help their situation. They needed to talk about this, and they had a job to do.

  James entered the room to find Keegan still asleep on the bed. To his surprise, Keegan remained completely quiet. He didn’t snore, not even when drunk. And too bad for James, he looked just as tempting. Those broad shoulders and ropy arms were anyone’s version of a wet dream. The team liked to call James a model, but in his opinion, Keegan could have made a fortune selling pictures of his toned, rock-hard body.

  A glance lower showed thick, muscular thighs and an ass James still dreamed about. So tight and firm.

  Keegan groaned and turned his head, and the dark stubble of shadow on his face made him look that much more rugged. The combination of his tanned skin, black hair, and silver-bright eyes—when open—were killer. Simply killer. James had never met a woman who could resist him. Hell, I just joined the club.

  “My fucking head,” Keegan muttered and rolled over onto his back.

  The old James would have helped Keegan up and thrown his ass into the bathroom. So in an effort to keep things the same between them, James grabbed Keegan’s hand, praying his friend wouldn’t smash him to bits with his mind, and tried to help.

  “Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you up and dressed. Time to wake up and get on the road.”

  Keegan opened bleary eyes still bloodshot and hazy. “Well, well, Mr. Sexy is back.” He was slurring.

  Damn. How much did he drink last night? “When did you get in?”

  “Dunno. Seven, eight maybe?” Hell, no wonder he was still drunk. He’d barely slept off his hangover. James sighed. “Come on, buddy. You probably need to piss, and you definitely need a shower.” James dragged Keegan off the bed, huffing as he struggled to deal with Keegan’s impressive but heavy bulk. “Can you walk?”

  “Why? You gonna carry me if I don’t?” Keegan thought that sounded hilarious and laughed like a loon.

  “In there.” James managed to shove Keegan into the bathroom and shut the door, waiting outside. He finally heard the toilet flush and the shower start. Then silence. “Keegan?” He knocked but received no answer.

  He opened the door and saw Keegan staring at himself in the mirror with a puzzled look on his face. “You okay?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t look gay.” Keegan ripped open his shirt and stared at his chest and belly.

  “Yeah, uh, I don’t think your orientation is written anywhere on your body.” James reminded himself to be patient. It wasn’t as if Keegan was deliberately flaunting his body. But those abs… Jam
es cleared his throat. “You need a shower.”

  “Trying to get me nekkid?”

  James loved that accent, but he’d like Keegan a helluva lot better if the giant would undress himself so James wouldn’t suffer later with the image of Keegan’s bare chest seared into his brain. “I live to get you ‘nekkid.’ Cowboy, help me out here. Strip and get in the tub.”

  Keegan shocked him by pulling him close with his mind.

  “Let me go, buddy. You don’t want to do this.” Oh, shit. James did not want to die from being crushed to death, his ribs piercing his lungs, his brain crushed inside his skull like a ripe melon. He’d had the unfortunate happenstance of seeing Keegan take a guy out that way once, and it hadn’t been pretty.

  Before James could protest again, Keegan kissed him. A sloppy, alcohol-fueled meshing of mouths and tongue that threw James’s fear into arousal. Keegan stopped and leaned his forehead against James’s, closing his eyes.

  “Fuck, you make me hard. Why, James? I thought I liked women.” He sounded so confused.

  James stroked his hair, taken with the long, shaggy strands in need of a cut. It hurt him that his cowboy sounded so unsure. “You do. You love pussy, Keegan.” Terms Keegan could always understand, drunk or sober.

  “But I like dick too.”

  James paused in thought, still stroking Keegan’s soft hair. “Did you see anyone last night who interested you like that? Anyone at home you like? Jack, maybe?” Which would explain the fierce antagonism between the two. James had always thought it a case of two alpha males butting heads, but maybe Keegan was battling an unwelcome lust?

  “Jack Keiser?” Keegan pushed away from James with horror on his face. So much for unwelcome lust.

  Relieved, James waited.

  “Hell, no. That dick just pisses me off until I want to break him in half.”

  “So no one in Bend?”

  Keegan scowled and stumbled as his boots caught his attention.

  “Sit down, cowboy.”

  Fortunately he listened, and James took off Keegan’s boots, then his jeans and shirt. Keegan stood in nothing but his sexy boxer briefs, under which the long, hot length of him stirred.

  Fuck me. James wiped his forehead with his forearm and started the shower.

  “I never look at men, not like that. I like a hot, wet pussy, you know?” Keegan rubbed his cock, and James’s eyes crossed.

  This is what I get for pushing too hard. Penance. Suck it up. “Yeah, well, I like pussy too.” “But you do other guys. I don’t. I don’t like other guys. Some fuckwad tried to pick me up at the bar last night, thinking I was too drunk to say no. But I didn’t want him. Didn’t want none of them.”

  “Damn. You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Visions of lawsuits danced in his head.

  “Nah. Made a few friends, and we kicked his ass out of the place.”

  “Your buddies weren’t gay bashing, were they?” Please tell me you didn’t crush his skull.

  “Hell, no. I don’t mind gays. Remember? I am gay. ‘Sides, it was a gay bar.” James just blinked at him.

  Keegan grabbed James’s hand and rubbed it over his cock. “Just you, GQ.

  You’re the one that gets my dick hard. None of the other guys did. And I tried.” James groaned. “Keegan, tell me you did not go to a gay bar trying to pick up men.” Keegan was going to hate him when he sobered up, because James knew he’d get blamed for this.

  “Nah. I was drinking and trying to see if I liked any of ‘em. But I didn’t. And I think there were some good-looking guys there.” He sounded so earnest.

  James couldn’t help grinning. “So you just drank until you wandered back here and passed out.” A terrible thought hit him. “You didn’t drive, did you?”

  “Nope. Caught a ride from some of the boys. They made sure I got home okay too. Truckers left this morning. Good fellas, knowin’ how hard it is to come outta the closet.”

  James shook his head and tried not to think about the stiff flesh under his fingers. Keegan wouldn’t let him go. “Um, Keegan? My hand?”

  “Yeah, up and down. Mmm.” Keegan closed his eyes, and suddenly his underwear swept down his legs, and James felt whisper hands pulling him closer.

  “Do it again. Make me come, James.”

  “You don’t want this, Keegan. You need to shower and sober up. I’m not going to take advantage of you right now. And for the record, you’re not gay. Hell, I’m not even sure you’re bi,” he murmured. There’d been something special between James and Keegan from the beginning, something that surpassed labels and mere physical attraction. Even knowing Keegan only ever dated women, James had sensed they might share something closer than being partners one day.

  “I’m not that drunk, James. And I’ve been doing a lot of thinkin’.” Keegan’s accent was thick, his cock weeping with need. He blinked his eyes open and focused them on James.

  James groaned. “I’m trying to do the right thing.” His hand tightened around Keegan’s shaft, the urge to suck him off strong. But a handjob was less intimate, easier to accept, maybe?

  “Do it. Jerk me off, James.” Keegan’s eyes smoldered. “You know you want to.”

  “I tried.” James succumbed to the pleasure, using a touch of his inner heat to warm his palms. He spit in his hand and stroked Keegan off with his thumb and fingers. Hard and fast, a firm grip that promised so much pleasure. “Don’t hate me for this.”

  “Never hate you. Christ, you’re good.” Keegan groaned and widened his stance.

  James didn’t know what prodded him, but he inched his other hand under Keegan’s sack and skimmed his perineum with the lightest of touches.

  “Son of a bitch,” Keegan rasped as he jerked and came, his cum jetting out in thick streams over James’s hand. “Tighter, yeah.”

  James continued to pump until Keegan finished spending. “Now get in the shower and clean up. And don’t you even think about blaming me for this one.” He turned, washed his hands in the sink, then stalked out of the room, aroused all over again and praying he hadn’t just screwed up a second time.

  When Keegan stepped out of the bathroom in a towel a good hour later, he looked subdued but not angry.

  James opened his mouth to speak, but Keegan shook his head. “Not now, James. I need time to think. Let’s focus on this case.” Keegan must have seen the hurt James tried to hide, because he ran a frustrated hand over his slick hair and sighed. “Just—Look, I need to think about things, okay?” Part of James wanted to argue that he hadn’t forced Keegan into any of this.

  Keegan hadn’t been drunk before, and he could have said no at any time. Yet another part of James wanted to crow because Keegan hadn’t flat-out rejected him.

  So he took the better part of discretion, nodded, and said, “I’m packed. I’ll be waiting in the SUV for you. And I’m driving.”

  Keegan didn’t protest, and James felt both better and worse. Again. Mixed up, pent up, and not sure which way to go. He could only hope they had less trouble when it came to tracking down that fucking locket. James didn’t think he could deal with anything more difficult than waiting for Keegan to face his feelings, or he might actually set the damn world ablaze.

  Chapter Four

  A week after the Gina Incident, as it was now dubbed, Rory ignored her french toast and glared up at Ed Jackson, beyond annoyed. “Ask whoever you want. Your cousin keyed my car. I took it out on her face instead of suing her for the thousand-dollar paint job she owes me.”

  “You can’t prove she messed with your car. But, sugar, there’s witnesses saw you punch her in the face.” Ed scratched his jaw. “Not that I’m not saying she didn’t have it coming to her, but there might be a way we could work things out.” He sat at her table in the diner without asking, and the waitress immediately brought him a cup and poured him coffee.

  “Thanks, Darlene.”

  She nodded and raced away, no doubt confabbing with the cashier and her fellow waitresses about Jackson Heights royalty’s inter
est in the new girl. A year spent in this town, and Rory still wore the moniker.

  Rory sighed. Ed Jackson might give her a run for her money this morning, but he still didn’t hold a candle to her. Not that Rory liked to brag, but she knew her strengths as well as her weaknesses. Intelligence, determination, and that extra brainpower that let her do extraordinary things—all strengths. Things that glittered and getting into situations like these—definite weaknesses.

  “I’ll bite. Exactly what is it you think I can do to work things out with you?” she asked.

  The amused gleam in his snakelike gaze was telling. “Personally, I like you, Rory. You’re a beautiful woman, and you know it. I like your confidence. Tells of a smart woman who knows her own worth.” Ed’s gaze roamed over her face and breasts, and lingered there.

  Rory felt the need for a shower to wipe the ick off her.

  “You could do a lot worse than a town councilman with eyes on the mayor’s seat. Election time’s only eight months away,” Ed suggested without suggesting.

  Tricky bastard, but she could respect that about him.

  Ed never said or did anything that could be used against him in a court of law.

  But her subtle rejections apparently hadn’t gotten through his thick skull and perfectly coifed hair. “I’m not having sex with you, Ed.” Ever.

  “Well now, you’re not as friendly as I’d hoped you’d be, but I can’t say I wasn’t expecting your answer.” He paused, and she had the odd feeling Ed Jackson was holding back.

  Rory leaned over the table, intrigued. “So what’s on your mind?”

  “We Jacksons have lived in Jackson Heights for over two hundred years. We were here when the town was founded. Nothing goes on that we don’t know about.

  It’s kind of a calling to watch out for everybody here.” Which explained his aunt, the mayor, his brother, the sheriff, and half his relatives on the town council he himself led.

  “Your point?”

  “I could have you arrested for hitting my cousin. I’m not going to,” he said to forestall her argument. “I want you to know I’m on your side. My cousin Brent’s been making you feel uncomfortable with his comments. I’ll put a stop to that too.