Locke and Key (Titan Book 12)

by Cristin Harber

  Earlier, Locke wasn’t sure what he thought Cassidy’s bedroom would look like. But the second look around confirmed that this was where a journalist who made an impact lived. Awards. Clippings. Photos.

  “I haven’t hidden from my past,” she said as though reading his mind. “I thought you might’ve taken issue with my decorations.”

  “I don’t care how you choose to celebrate what you’ve done.” He lifted his chin. “All a bedroom needs is a bed.”

  “And pillows.”

  True. The girl had lots and lots of pillows. He might never forget her curled around the long one with her high heels on earlier that day.

  “And a closet,” she added, laughing, and he noticed the shoes spilling out of the walk-in.

  “You should see mine.” He threw his hands into the air. “Out of control. Shoes everywhere.”

  “Oh, shut up.” She faux-hit him, and he pulled her in for a kiss.

  That was the kiss he needed—one that brought them back to the business of getting into bed. She loosened in his arms, and he lifted her onto the comforter. Locke crawled over her, pinning her down, caging her head between his forearms and holding himself over her body.

  This was his woman…

  Cassidy walked her heels out, wrapping her legs around his, and hell, even if they stayed like that for the rest of the night, he’d be fine with it. He tore his shirt off, and her hands ran up his bare back, dragging her fingernails into his skin.

  Needing a woman this badly wasn’t normal, but nothing about her caused regular reactions.

  He rolled over on his side.

  “I’m not one to gawk, Locke. But you’re gawkable.” She eyeballed him.

  “Is that official journalist lingo or—”

  Her eyes cemented to his side, the color draining from her already pale face, and his blood stopped.

  “Your tattoo…” Her face fell, and her blue-green eyes dulled behind eyelashes that dropped.

  “Hey, wait.” He shifted, dropping to stare also. Locke almost couldn’t. Not one woman ever asked about it; they’d never react unless they got off on ink, because they weren’t clued in to the tattoo. But, of course, Cassidy would be.

  It was military in design like the others on his back. But the one on his side, the Roman numeral twenty-six—XXVI—was almost like a secret, a sign of respect that he could carry with him and no one would be the wiser.

  He tore his eyes away from it and looked at her. Tears welled in her eyes. One slipped free. She wasn’t crying—just letting go of what was too much to keep bottled inside.

  “Cassidy. Cass.” He gathered her into his arms, and she was limp and loose. Sad. “Shhh. Baby, let it go. It’s okay.”

  Cassidy came back to him, gasping for a breath like maybe she hadn’t taken one in a long time. Then she let out a long, miserable, swollen sigh. “I didn’t expect that. Sorry.”

  “It didn’t occur to me to warn you. No one ever knows what it means.” He hugged her tighter. She shared so much of his pain. “C’mere.”

  Nodding against his cheek, she whispered, “It’s fine. Buzzkill. I’m sorry. God.”

  Fighting to get her hands in between them, Cassidy buried her face.

  What? She was embarrassed? No. Not going to happen. “Come on. Put your hands down. Cassidy, Beauty.” Her eyes peeped out from between fingers. “There you go. Don’t make me start all the redhead names again. That one suits you the best. Flame, Red Riding Hood, Strawberry Shortcake.”

  “You kill me.”

  He kissed the back of her hand, which half-covered her cheek. “It’s all self-serving. I can’t handle the tears.”

  She laughed, pulling her hands away, and he found her lips. The dampness from her cheeks touched his own, but her kiss came alive more than before. Deeper too. Her palms ran over his hair, fingers threading into his locks, and he breathed every breath that she took, each one easing as the passing memory of hell left her.

  “That’s my girl,” Locke crooned against her sweet lips.

  She hummed, and he broke free long enough to steal her shirt. Her nipples were outlined behind a silk bra. Locke pulled the bra cup down and sucked her dark-cherry nipple into his mouth.

  His cock ached. Rolling the tight bud of her tit on his tongue made her moan, and he unfastened the top of her pants, sliding his hand down under the panties to her pussy.

  “Oh, that’s…” His fingers passed the clipped triangle of hair to her slick folds. He released her nipple and finished the thought. “Sexy. How turned-on you are.”

  Cassidy’s sultry gasp rocketed through him as he penetrated her entrance with teasing strokes. The base of his palm pressed against her swollen clit, and his fingers danced in and out of her tensing body. Locke flicked his tongue over her perked nipple.

  “That’s so good,” she moaned.

  “Good, Beauty.” He unclipped her bra, letting her breasts free.

  The more she writhed on his fingers, the harder he concentrated.

  “Deeper,” Cassidy begged, flexing her hips for increased contact, and he did, adding a circular motion as he pulled out. “Locke! That. Is. Oh…”

  “Like that?”

  “Yes. Locke. Yes.”

  He abandoned her breasts, kissing her needy cries. If she was going to make sweet noises and purr his name, he’d drink every plea. Locke curled an arm behind her like a pillow and finger-fucked Cassidy as her tight muscles milked him. Knowing his cock would breach this same entrance, sliding deep into her honeyed arousal, drove him to the brink of insanity.

  Cassidy splayed her legs wide, tossing a knee over his. Her body shook and vibrated, her hips reaching to meet his every thrust. “I’m—going—to—”

  “Good,” he growled against the shell of her ear. “Cassidy.”

  “Almost.” Her eyes met his. Her mouth hung, breaths gasping, and she panted, mewing and moaning, as her lips searched for his. “Please.”

  “Got you. Let go.”

  Her back arched, and her vaginal muscles clung to his fingers, spasming in a way that made his dick ache. His molars ground, and Locke pressed his mouth to her forehead, kissing into her hair, easing the roll of his hands as she cried his name like a prayer.

  Her hips still moved as she panted, but the sugary focus of her gaze narrowed on him. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her. “You sound as good as you feel.”

  Cassidy kissed him, letting her tongue tease his lips.

  “As good as you tasted,” he murmured against her lips. “And I know how every bit of you tastes.”

  “I thought you were a gentleman,” she teasingly chided, working her hand to the top of his pants, fumbling with his button and fly.

  Locke stilled her hand. “Have no doubts about that.”

  “Kidding.” Carefully, she moved his hand from hers. “Kidding. You’re a gentleman.” She hooked his loosened pants and underwear down, tugging them over his ass. “A gentleman who says perfectly appropriate things but does so in a way that gets me wet. On purpose.”

  “Beauty,” he warned, because with a mouth like that, he was liable to rush things—and ruin all preconceived gentlemanly notions.

  “Hmm.” Cassidy pushed his pants to his thighs and encircled his erection with her hands. Locke sucked a hard breath when she stacked her hands, holding onto him tightly, and slowly worked his shaft. Twisting up, sliding down. Her hands were bliss.

  “You’re a gentleman with a wicked tongue.” Her thumb ran over the crown of his cock as a drop of precum leaked.

  Shit. Sensitive. His lungs faltered as she massaged the thick head, her hands carefully working a pattern that might be his undoing.

  Cassidy leaned down with no preamble, no walking her daring tongue down his abdomen, and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth. White light exploded at the searing heat. He saw stars and sparks as the intense wetness ran to his balls, sizzling delicious electricity up his spine.

  He threaded his hands into her hair, and Cass
idy didn’t bob her head down. No, fuck no. The woman was a torture operator. Slowly, she circled the thick ridge of his crown, tracing the head of his erection until she followed the vein running the length of his dick.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  Her tongue ran back up, just as slowly, until she crested the top of him and then sank her mouth down, taking his length. Both hands massaged his balls, one hand drifting up to his shaft as she dragged her lips back up.

  “Amazing.” Locke’s eyes were pinned shut, and he would’ve promised, if he could’ve found the words, that no one on earth had felt like he was feeling. Cassidy’s mouth was like a life force. He’d live for it—sweet heaven, she sucked his cock again. “Cassidy. Beauty.”

  Locke pushed on his elbows and dropped his head back as her hands tugged his balls gently and she rhythmically bobbed her head. His hands knotted in her hair, the slippery, sucking sounds permanently in his brain, and he watched as her eyes set on his. “Fucking perfection.”

  Damn, he wanted inside her. “Condom, Cassidy.”

  She paused, eyes inquiring.

  “Beauty…”

  That. That fucking moment right there, forever in his mind. Damn it. With his cock in her mouth, Cassidy just smiled. He was going to die a happy man.

  She slid up, and Locke had her by his side, head on the pillow and stripped naked, before she could say a word. He jacked the pants off, grabbed a condom he’d left on her nightstand, and rolled it on, tossing the wrapper.

  “Locke?” Cassidy kneeled next to him, laying a hand on his arm. Her breasts swayed, and her dark-red hair fell over her shoulders.

  “You are absolutely stunning.” There weren’t enough hours in the day to stare at her. “If you haven’t been told that enough in your life.”

  Slowly, she shook her head and tossed her leg over to sit on top of him. “No, sir. Not me.”

  “I’ll make sure you do, then.”

  With his sheathed cock in her hand, Cassidy began to tease the pussy that he couldn’t get enough of, rubbing back and forth. Locke could watch that erotic show all day, though hell, feeling that push into her tight canal was almost more than he could handle. Almost.

  Her pale thighs on display, Cassidy pressed onto her knees and centered his blunt head against where he wanted to thrust so badly.

  “You want my cock, Cass?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, jaw hanging half-open. “God, yeah.”

  Locke pulled a sharp breath, needing to hear it again. “You want to ride me, Beauty?”

  Trembling, her lips parted as she let him inch inside her tight body. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted this.”

  “Fuck. Good.” His chest tightened. A strong will was the only thing saving him from delving into her delicious body. Sweet and slow. His eyes sank shut as she inched down and up and let herself adjust to his length and girth.

  “Oh,” she breathed out.

  Locke’s breaths came in bursts. His hands rested on her hips, fingers flexing into her softness, and Cassidy’s hands dropped to his chest.

  “You have all of me,” he said. Every single mind-numbing inch. Hell. Sensations bled through him as she convulsed, adapting to his intrusion. Locke’s eyes squeezed shut as he existed, for a moment, in a world where he was buried inside her. “You good?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She exhaled.

  “C’mere,” he said, needing his arms filled.

  She collapsed, kissing his neck, catching her breath when they hadn’t even started. That night was a marathon. Jesus. He involuntarily jerked.

  “Oh, mmm—you’re a lot.” Cassidy arched but then folded to touch her forehead to his. She rocked her hips, her tits teasing his chest. “So… much.”

  “We’re good.” His chest heaved as he pulled back his hips and, achingly slowly, thrust, and she rocked against him too.

  “Oh, baby.” Her head tossed back as he withdrew, her moan almost inaudible. “Again.”

  They had a slow roll of precision. Locke thrust. He gave her more force, and she rode him harder for it.

  “More, Locke.”

  Damn, Cassidy could move, giving all she was worth again and again. The sight of her over his hardened, war-torn body couldn’t have been sweeter. Pale and innocent. Soft and seductive. The more he stared, the straighter she sat until he wasn’t thrusting, just watching Cassidy ride him, her juices dripping down his shaft, covering his balls, as her breasts moved in time, her eyes shut and dark-red hair flowing wildly.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Ride me. Fuck me, Cassidy.”

  Maybe she didn’t hear him. Maybe he hadn’t said it out loud. But then her blue-green eyes opened, blazing fire, and they latched onto his. His soul caught fire just by their laser stare.

  “Yes,” she purred.

  Locke gripped her hips harder than he should, and somehow, she squeezed his dick tighter.

  “I…” Her tits bounced, and her pussy began to quake on his throbbing cock. Cassidy’s body begged. “Need you.”

  Locke pumped inside her, rocking her with an ironclad hold. He took over as the support she needed as Cassidy’s head dropped back and she arched, whimpering like he’d never heard before. Cassidy dropped a hand to her clit, chanting his name. There’d never been a sexier woman fucking him. Ever.

  Sweat teased his brow. An orgasm curled in his balls, begging for escape. Cassidy’s promise to God that she might die sounded like she might come soon too, and—her body went ripcord tight. A hand clung to his forearm, nails digging into his skin. “Locke! God!”

  Have fucking mercy. He came with her, throbbing and shooting his climax into her spasming chasm. Her legs crawled around him; she fought the heaven-sent relief that tortured them both into oblivion until she collapsed onto his chest, his cock still thrusting, her hips still moving. Their mouths connected, their erratic breaths merging into one storm.

  Damn. Locke wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her still and holding himself deep in her, feeling every last drop of his cum release.

  His harsh gasps burned. Her red hair covered his face, masking his hot lungsful to her ear, encapsulating the two of them from the world. He liked this girl. Needed her badly. Wanted to keep her safe. Wanted to keep her for himself.

  “Cassidy, Cassidy. Beauty,” he whispered, slowly coming back to reality. He stroked her back as she twitched and gasped, kissed him and shook in his arms. “Beauty…”

  He stroked her hair, patiently catching his breath, listening to hers return to normal. What had just happened would happen again. There would be no question.

  “I’m…” But she didn’t finish.

  “When we get back, you’re in my bed again,” he promised.

  “We’re in my bed.” She laughed quietly.

  “Beautiful girl, my bed is where I am.” He kissed the top of her temple. She didn’t get the magnitude of where his head was at, and hell, maybe the magnitude of what they were getting ready to walk into the next day.

  There was always the chance a job could go wrong. She had stepped into the role of a woman sold for sex. Cassidy was property to be used for another man’s desires. But not under Locke’s watch. No one would have a chance. No traffickers. No Russians. No one. He’d die and take everyone out well before they got close enough to what she just gave him.

  But that was a lie he told himself, because he and Cassidy had a lot more than sex. There was a connection and chemistry. They were playing on an emotional field he hadn’t expected and couldn’t ever have understood, until he’d experienced the woman in his arms. “Good night, Beauty. Sweet dreams.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Oh, it was too early in the morning to be in a car. Cassidy rolled the hot coffee cup back and forth in her hands once she was done picking at the lid. Locke was in the passenger seat of Jax’s car, and she sat in the back, and they cruised onto the highway on the way to the airport. On the way to Russia…

  She and Locke had a very late, very rambunctious night, and Jax had shown u
p at her house very early. Which meant she looked like hell, with bags under her eyes to match the bruise on her cheek from Alex’s Russian friend. All in all, she looked ready to play the part of a trafficking victim.

  Titan Group had somehow anticipated where Locke might wake up, and there was a bag waiting for him on her front porch.

  With her lip tugged in between her teeth, she mentally chanted to not be overwhelmed, not to be afraid. Titan was the best. They had everything covered. They obviously even knew what to pack for a human trafficker who might need to hit the road. Cassidy was just having a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that Jax and Locke were fully outfitted with identification, clothing, and apparently, anything else one might need to peddle human flesh.

  She, on the other hand, needed nothing.

  After a quick phone call with Beth to answer last-minute questions, Cassidy was ready to be a victim of a kidnapping. All she had to do was act scared as shit. Semi-drugged. A little despondent. Which wasn’t too different from how she was feeling.

  And she was terrified.

  She tore at the lid of her to-go cup. Her fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting.

  “You doing okay back there?” Locke asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, lying through her teeth.

  “You sound like you’re going to puke on my carpet,” Jax said. “If you decide to do that, try to roll the window down and aim out there.”

  “You are such an asshole,” she snapped.

  “It’s the only way I know to be, Cassidy.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled and decided to chew on her fingernail instead of further destroying her coffee cup or griping at him.

  “You know how much I respect you for doing this?” Jax asked.

  Cassidy raised her eyes and watched him drive. His facial expressions were far too animated for this early in the morning.

  “Really,” Jax continued. “I respect the shit out of you.” He flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror and caught hers. “You believe me?”

  She nodded, dropping her fingernail from her teeth. And she did believe him, since she saw the truth in his face—unlike Locke, whose expression she couldn’t read. Jax was like a book, and that book was ten kinds of an asshole, but he owned it. Maybe he didn’t set out to be a dickhead, but he just kind of was. It seemed like the things that popped into his head… well, those thoughts bubbled out of his mouth. People always knew where they were with him, and she liked that. No bullshit, always the truth. If he didn’t like you, you knew it.