Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3)

by Cat Porter

I can’t wait. No fucking way.

  I turned her in my arms and leaned her forward. I grabbed one thigh and propped it up on the table, opening her up to me.

  Fuck, what a sight.

  Her cunt inviting me in, her full ass curving before me. My brain cells popped as I ran my fingers through her wet heat.

  “Bone?” she whimpered.

  “Need you now, Firefly. Right the fuck now.” I squeezed the soft flesh of her ass. “Like this.”

  She only let out another whimper, her back and shoulders relaxing, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. “God, yes…”

  I undid my jeans and shoved them down my hips. I grabbed her hair and pulled her head to the side, nipping and nuzzling her damp skin. Goose bumps spread over her shoulders and her arms. I held my cock steady against her slit, my heart pounding through my chest, and I slid inside her wetness.

  She let out a low moan, her forehead sinking on the table. I dug my fingers into her hips, slowly pulling out and rocking back inside her even deeper. My cock throbbed in approval.

  “I went and got tested. Got the all-clear to go bare.” My brain cells bended and waved like flags obeying the force of the wind. “Oh shit, Jill. Shit, I can feel you on me, babe. So good, so fucking good.” I thrust into her tightness, an epic explosion building inside me.

  Her breathing grew quick and choppy, her palms gripping the table. Her ass had me in a trance as I plowed into her, over and over again, watching my cock thrust in and out of that pussy, watching that pussy sucking me in. My pulse fired like a thousand rockets going off, one by one.

  I drilled deeper, and she pushed back against me, shuddering in my hands. I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  Sweetest fucking torture ever.

  Everything faded. Everything melted away, except for this—me moving inside her, her all over me, taking me in and moaning for more, the table shaking and rocking, her cries getting louder. I exploded, my cum bursting inside Jill. I held her gorgeous body on mine, her sweat a sheen of gold on her pale back.

  I leaned forward and licked a trail up her salty spine, my hands finding her incredible tits. “Which way to your room?” I pinched a nipple.

  “Wh-what?”

  I was a man on a mission.

  A Fuck Mission.

  A Come Until You Can Come No More Mission.

  “Your room.”

  She let out a groan—or was it a laugh? “I don’t think I can walk.”

  “Walking ain’t required.”

  I pulled out of her and grinned as she sank down on the table with a moan, her arms bent at her sides. I yanked up my jeans and lifted her in my arms. Her eyes met mine. Her lips fell open. Innocence and satisfied woman all in one.

  Yeah, I was on a Melt with Jill Mission.

  “Last room on the right,” she said, her hand wrapping around my neck, as I carried her down the hallway. “Bone, when you licked me in the kitchen that time, I almost…” she whispered, out of breath. “Could you do that again?”

  A Make Jill Beg for Mercy Mission.

  “I’m gonna lick you all over, Firefly.”

  I kicked her fucking door open.

  “WHAT DO YOU GOT FOR US, BUTLER?” Jump ran a hand through his silvery-black beard. The Jump signal for, Let’s hear your spiel. This had better be good.

  All eyes in the meeting room turned to Butler.

  Butler planted his hands on the great table. “The Calderas Group that Catch told us about is based in Denver. Salvadoran mob parading around as a Latin American import-export business—coffee, wines. They play it real highbrow, but they’re actually far from that.”

  “What does that mean?” Jump’s eyes narrowed.

  “They’re gangbangers from way back in the eighties.”

  “No shit,” muttered Kicker.

  “They got tired of being told what to do by the white-collared dons in town and of being pushed around by every new gang on the block, and there were many. In the mid-‘90s, they got their shit organized. They managed to control the low-level crap—robberies, assaults, murders—that had gotten them unwanted attention and their members in jail,” said Butler.

  “They’ve risen above where they started, which was the gutter. Under the radar of their fancy big-money legit enterprise—the Calderas Group—they’ve managed to retain their ties with one major player from Mexico. Which means, they’re still heavy into crack, cocaine, weapons, like they used to be in their youth but doing it now wearing suits and ties and hanging out in better restaurants and clubs.”

  After I’d left Denver, I hadn’t stepped foot there again, avoiding it at all costs. In my early years as a Jack, I’d told our then prez that there were warrants for my arrest, that I couldn’t chance it, which was partly true.

  My fingers pressed into the smooth surface of the table. “Which gang from Denver in the eighties?”

  Butler leaned back in his chair. “The Executioners.”

  My eyes lifted to his.

  “Did you know them?” he asked.

  “I knew who they were, yeah,” I managed.

  “They got control of choice routes out of the old country through New Mexico to Colorado. But since Colorado legalized marijuana, the Feds have been raiding pot businesses all over the state, so the Executioners or the Calderas Group has taken some hits over the years. They’re looking to shift their reach, and it looks like the Broken Blades snagged their attention in little ole Nebraska.”

  I reached for a smoke and lit up. “The Blades have that old underground warehouse and meth factory somewhere in the boonies in their territory. Everyone’s had their eyes on it. Why not them?”

  “Good point,” said Butler. “Plus, with the Blades making our life difficult in Colorado and down through Texas, if this Calderas Group works with the Blades, and they use that warehouse and factory as a new hub of operations, they’ll have us by the balls—as in, slicing our cojones clean off on our Southern routes.”

  “Which will, of course, make them think they can take more and more and more as they go,” added Kicker.

  I stopped listening. The weight of centuries old failures still stuck in my chest, still crushing. That burn sliced right through me again after all these years. A warning.

  “You got a plan?” Kicker asked Butler.

  Jump grimaced, making a smacking noise with his lips, his gaze bearing down on Butler. “Why don’t you go ask your friend Finger all about it? If we’re gonna move ahead on this new cooperation with them, no better time than the present. Get organized with the Flames, and keep watch on the Blades and that Calderas Group. ’Cause if those spics come up with some sort of formal agreement with the Blades, we’ve got to be ready.”

  The fucking plague was in the next village, spreading its poison, and it was only a matter of time until it arrived at our gates.

  MINDY GLARED AT ME from her stool at the bar at Pete’s Tavern in town. Even though she was with a sexy blond guy in pressed jeans and a Western-style shirt, who slid a huge pink cocktail in front of her, her sour scrutiny remained on me.

  Here we go.

  It was nothing I hadn’t seen before, nothing I hadn’t dealt with before, but I hated it.

  Boner handed me a tall glass of a berry colored beverage with a wedge of lime. “How’s that?” He sat in the chair next to me.

  “Looks great. What is it?

  “Cranberry and club soda with lime.”

  “Oh, yum. Thank you.”

  He grinned and brushed the side of my face with his lips as I sipped on my surprise drink.

  Lenore and Tricky sat close together across from us at a table talking and laughing. They’d been seeing each other off and on for a while now. Older woman, younger man.

  You rock, Lenore!

  Grace and Lock hustled over and settled into the two remaining chairs.

  “We didn’t miss Allen’s first set, did we?” asked Grace, hanging her handbag from her chair.

  “No, but you cut it close,” replie
d Lenore, sipping on her beer. “What happened?”

  Lock’s smug grin was our answer, and we all laughed.

  Grace blushed. “Can I help it if I’m married to a demanding, bossy man?”

  Lock let out a deep laugh. “I’m the demanding one?” Grace shoved at his chest.

  It was great to be out on a couples’ evening to hear local musicians at the town watering hole. However, Mindy continuing to glare at me was not only deflating my buzz but also twisting the knot in my stomach that had formed with Catch’s phone call.

  I sipped on my cool drink, hoping it would provide me with calm, confidence, mettle.

  Ha.

  I still hadn’t told Boner about Catch’s phone call. I didn’t like keeping anything from him, but I really didn’t want to start more problems.

  Finger would never agree to something like that. Maybe Catch was just mouthing off, maybe he was just—

  “You good?” Boner stroked my back.

  “Huh? Oh, very good.”

  Boner pressed his lips together, his arm slinging around my neck. “I talked to her. She won’t be a problem.” He tilted his head toward the bar.

  “You talked to Mindy?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “You broke it off with her?”

  “There was nothing to break off. We were just a hook-up.”

  I shifted on my suddenly uncomfortable wooden chair.

  “I wanted her to know from me that it wasn’t gonna happen again, that it was done,” he said.

  I leveled my gaze at him. “That’s what you want?”

  His forehead furrowed. “Are you kidding me?”

  I swept a lock of hair from my face. “I’m just asking.”

  “Look at me.” Boner’s sharp eyes studied me, green beams of laser seeking truth not to be denied. He leaned in closer to me. “We fucked the other day, or did you forget? Did you forget the way it was?”

  How could I forget?

  I was still sore, sore and warm everywhere. Even my nipples now zinged into stones just from the sound of him saying fucked in that rough, harsh tone.

  “No, no, I haven’t forgotten.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Then, what? What is it?”

  I took in a small breath. “I feel like I’ve disrupted your life, and I don’t want that. I don’t want you to feel like I’m holding you back.”

  “And again, are you fucking kidding me? I’m with you. I chose to be with you.”

  “Because you felt like you had to, because you’re a stand-up guy. Because circumstances—”

  “Because I’m selfish when it comes to you.”

  I blinked.

  “Get this straight in your head, Jill. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I don’t want to be inside anyone else. This whole discussion is pissing me off because this tells me that the way I was with you in bed, in the kitchen, on the kitchen table, on the floor has not proven this to you or made it clear.”

  His eyes flashed, and the bottom dropped out of me under their force. Even my clit pulsed.

  I pressed my legs together. “I-I didn’t mean that.”

  “So, I’m wrong in assuming—”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t need to make any adjustments then?” he asked.

  “Adjustments?”

  “In bed, in the kitchen, on the—”

  Hell no.

  He was a sexual powerhouse—stamina, passion, attention to detail, tender and raw, generous and communicative. We’d even tried anal sex, which I’d done before, but never really enjoyed much. With Boner taking his time with me and being gentle, encouraging, and even funny, I’d relaxed and enjoyed it a hell of a lot.

  “No. No adjustments needed.” I touched his face, my fingers dragging through his newly trimmed beard. I need to touch him. He raised his chin and lowered his eyelids at the contact. “Boner, my point is, I don’t want you to feel restricted.”

  “Restricted?”

  “You’ve been a free agent since forever. And now—”

  Music flared from the small stage, and the lights dimmed. One of the musicians began playing a ballad on his acoustic guitar as his bandmates got organized. The din of the crowd settled. The bar was thick with people, every table filled, and the staff hustled with drink orders.

  Boner’s eyes flickered over me. His body hardened against mine. “Something wrong? You feeling stuck? Restricted?”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  “I wouldn’t call it restricted.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “Overwhelmed,” I blurted.

  A shadow passed over his face, giving his hollow cheeks an even sharper appearance. He cupped the back of my head. “Jillee, I know I get intense. If it’s bothering you—”

  “No.” I pressed a hand onto his chest and rubbed over a pronounced pec. “I like your intensity. A lot.”

  My face was very hot, and I was sure my skin was a thousand shades of pink and cherry red.

  He took my hand in his and kissed it. “So, this is the good kind of overwhelming?”

  “Yeah,” I breathed, staring at my hand nestled in his larger one. “I just thought that, since this arrangement is a temporary thing, I don’t want it to be a confusing one, too. I’m trying hard not to be overwhelmed, which might only lead to more confusion, which might then make you feel uncomfortable and restricted.”

  He shot me that now familiar but still jarring what-planet-are-you-from look.

  “Because here I am,” I continued, “the ex of your new hostile enemy, and now, I’m suddenly your old lady. I’m the new commitment, which you’ve never had before, and I don’t want to be a burden.”

  His hand wrapped around my neck and pulled me close, his mouth crashing on mine, taking, declaring, giving. Everything spun on that kiss.

  “I’ve wanted you for a long time, Jill. A long fucking time,” he said, our faces mere degrees apart, his beautiful eyes boring into mine. “I had to make a move. I made it. I didn’t do it ’cause I felt sorry for you or felt bad. I did it because it was right. Right for me, for you, for Catch. Yeah, and for Super-baby over here.”

  He rubbed a hand across my belly.

  “Firefly, every which way you turn this Magic Eight Ball, there’s only one message that floats up to the top, and that message is, Yes.”

  I laughed, and he planted a quick kiss on my lips.

  “So, yeah, your douche bag ex might have tipped my hand,” he continued, “but I’m glad he did. I like sleeping with you and waking up with you whenever we can. I like your kid. I like your cooking. I fantasize about your body and your mouth all the fucking time. I like being close to you. And after the baby’s born, I’m gonna have you tied to my bed and strapped around me on the back of my bike, and then you’ll know the meaning of the word overwhelmed.”

  My heart stuttered.

  “Neither of us wanted a commitment in the beginning, Firefly, but you know what? I’m liking it, and I think you do, too. So, relax, and let yourself like it. What the fuck?” He dipped his head and whispered in my ear, “I want you overwhelmed.”

  I held him close, drinking in his scent, savoring the hard wall that was his chest, the silken brush of his hair against my skin. My eyes shut, and I pressed against him.

  He was my thrill. My high. He was my castle fortress against the evil eyes of Mindy and Catch and whatever other dark clouds were rising in the horizon because they always were.

  To hell with all of them.

  “I think I get it,” he whispered.

  “Get what?”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Jealous?”

  He cast a quick glance toward Mindy at the bar.

  I averted my gaze and let out a huff of air. “Well, just a little, little bit.”

  He kissed the side of my face, laughing. “Jillee, you got pieces of me no one’s ever had.”

  My heart banged against my ribs, and I buried my
face in his throat and hugged him.

  The guitarist ended his ballad, his imploring voice still hanging in the air. Applause and cheers thundered through the old bar. The spotlight shone on Allen, the bassist Grace knew.

  Boner’s arm settled over my shoulders, and I curled into him. Happy aches spun through me, fresh shivers, deeper heat.

  After all those months of circling each other, even now that we’d had sex, those feelings of wanting him, of liking him, had only intensified, not abated.

  At the outset, I had thought that my crush on Boner was a fascination born of simple physical attraction and deeply engraved insecurities.

  But I was wrong.

  A need had grown inside me and taken hold, taken root, a need for him that was more like a calling. And his confidence in an us only pitched propane at that fire.

  I brushed his cheek with my lips.

  Overwhelming.

  “I DON’T THINK I’ve ever liked popcorn this much. This is actually tasty.” Boner held the huge stainless steel bowl in his lap and shoved fluffy kernels in his mouth. We lounged on Rae’s living room sofa, watching television.

  “It’s air-popped organic with butter and sea salt.”

  His hand stilled over the bowl, a dark eyebrow raised. “I love it when you talk gourmet.”

  I let out a laugh and handed him a fresh beer. “It’s hardly gourmet.”

  “It’s light-years better than that microwave crap.”

  “That microwave crap will kill you.”

  He glanced at me, munching. “Have you always been into food?”

  “My mom loved to cook, and that used to be our thing together, cooking and baking.” I tucked my legs underneath me and sank onto the sofa next to him. “And Rae is an amazing cook. She can’t stand over the stove for too long anymore, so she sits and gives me directions. She’s taught me a lot of her family recipes, and I like that, it’s important. I enjoy it. It’s a creative way to unwind and spend time with someone, and in the end, you’re left with something yummy to eat.”

  Our attention went back to the television.

  He stroked my thigh. “I like binge-watching TV with you.”

  “Because I feed you?”

  “Yeah, that, too, but it’s nice. Just hanging here—calm and quiet, you and me. Rae and Becs in the next room all snug. Tania somewhere else.”