Locke and Key (Titan Book 12)

by Cristin Harber

  When he couldn’t look away, she couldn’t either. Did he see how she was losing control? Her bed—where she had thought about him so many nights—was a few feet from where they stood. At Red Star, before the PTSD hit, they’d been wild. Touching and teasing. In public… at her front door, after their fight, they were on a path to regroup and restart. Now, they had their privacy, but this wasn’t sexy. She was a mess—though who cared about a little mulch and bruising?

  He trailed a dangerous finger along her jawline, not knowing how little she cared about her injuries. “Knees. Neck. Where else were you hurt?”

  His finger stilled, and she could feel the riot of pleasure quaking within her, starting at her knees, trembling up her thighs until she was sure that her panties were wet just because his fingernail scraped along her jaw.

  “Cassidy?” His husky voice raked over her senses.

  “Oh, you know.” The driving hunger that stirred inside her now pounded in her lungs, making her hitching breaths evident. Cassidy licked her lips. Her casual words shook, to a discerning ear. Likely to his ear. “My pride.”

  She wanted nothing more than for him to touch her, but he seemed unflappable. Then he stole his fingers away, and she wanted to moan in complaint. But that was good. Responsible. Very Locke. Medical treatment and Alex Gaev were the things that should be in her mind. Not need and hunger and a deep desire to see if he could kiss away all her pain.

  “Where else, Cassidy?”

  “My back.”

  “Got it.” He ran his hand into his unkempt hair, and she wondered how it would feel in her hands.

  It was perfectly chaotic, as though the right length and imperfections had converged in blond hair thick enough for her to grab onto. How would his hair feel brushing against the inside of her thighs while he kissed her to orgasm? Hell… She rubbed her thighs together. Now wasn’t the time to imagine that. Nor was it the time to think about how his fingers might feel if they plunged deep and his lips sucked her clit.

  Her heart raced. This was too much, and she needed so much more—

  “You okay, Beauty?” Locke asked.

  She sucked a breath, stammering, “Yes.”

  “Thought I lost you for a second to a daydream.”

  A hot blush colored her cheeks, and she followed his gaze down her blouse, where her nipples pressed the white fabric. It wasn’t cold in her house. Between that and her visibly rising chest…

  He gently caressed her arm as she lifted her face and watched him in the mirror. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Their bodies touched. Her back was to his front, and she stood in her scuffed white shirt and black skirt.

  His hand touched her elbow, running up her biceps. “Cassidy?”

  The hairs on her arms stood at attention—her whole self did when he dropped his voice low and commanded it. “Yes?”

  “Roll your sleeves up. Let me check your elbows.”

  Cassidy held his eyes in the mirror. “Are you… mad at me?”

  “About?”

  “I yelled at Alex. You know I have that little habit of pushing people, getting in their faces, and maybe I egged them on.”

  “No.” His gaze dropped to the ointment tube. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “At me.” He blew out. “I’m mad at myself. If I was here earlier… I don’t know… this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Oh.” That wasn’t what she’d expected. “Locke, don’t be.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well. That’s the truth, babe. You asked. There’s the truth.”

  Maybe that was why she was drowning in sexual tension and he… wasn’t?

  “Let me see your elbow, babe.”

  She tilted her head and decided to ignore him, needing him to feel the sexual tension as much as she did and not feel one ounce of guilt for when he arrived. Cassidy undid the bottom button of the front of her blouse instead. Shocked at what she was doing, she looked up, and she could hear her breath. His blue eyes watched her fingers skip to the next button on her blouse before they met her gaze in the mirror.

  “What are you doing, Cass?”

  Oh, hell. She didn’t know, but with every button, she felt the wave of arousal grow stronger. Cassidy unfastened the third button. The shirt was loose under her heavy breasts, and then she couldn’t be clearer about what she was doing.

  He stepped closer, aligning his body to hers, his hands resting possessively on her side. Now, her fingers trembled. She didn’t know why the heat of his palm scorching though the fabric on her hips made a difference. They’d been running down a road of deeply sexual moments since they’d met each other. But still, the rise and fall of her chest was shakily evident as she worked free the button directly over her lacy white bra.

  Her tummy showed. It wasn’t flat—nowhere near perfect—but Locke squeezed, and a deep growl of approval made her slick with need.

  “I want my face buried in those tits.” His grip constricted again. “Do you know that?”

  Her lips parted, a quiet gasp falling free. One button left, and her hands hovered over it as they both watched in the mirror.

  “Let me see, Beauty,” he rasped.

  Her fingers fluttered over the final button. The fabric bowed away, framing her tummy and breasts. Cassidy’s arms drifted to her sides slowly, and finally, his large hands stirred. He lifted away the loosened blouse, dragging it down her arms. The soft fabric seemed to scrape along her heightened senses, and goosebumps danced.

  The dark pink of her puckered nipples pressed into the lace as the shirt slid to the floor.

  “Gorgeous.” He teased the pads of his fingers up her arms, skimming over the hairs standing on end.

  “So are you.” She stood in only a white lace bra, black pencil skirt, and high heels. She had darkening bruises, crazy red hair, and the wild, wild want of him coloring her cheeks pink.

  “The places I’m going to kiss you…” He leaned close and ran a hand over her belly, across her panty line, to the vee at top of her leg, rubbing her mound through the skirt. “Ask me again. Like you did at the club.”

  Her legs went weak, remembering that night. “Touch me.”

  He curled his body over hers, pulling the skirt up, stroking her inner thigh. “What do you want, Cassidy?”

  You. His erection was evident. Hell. A flush ran through her again. She was wet, wanting with him this close, wanting to explore him too, maddeningly enough, suddenly surprisingly enough, more than she wanted him teasing her.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “You,” she gasped. “I want my mouth on you.” Her inner muscles clenched when she voiced the idea, her lungs stuttered. “I want to kiss and suck you too.”

  His eyebrows rose in the mirror. “That’s what you want?”

  Nodding and mouth watering, she nodded then arched back against him as he slipped his fingers higher up her thigh and dropped his mouth onto her neck, nuzzling at her ear as she watched in the mirror.

  “You taste good.” His eyes were closed, and she fought to keep hers open. His free hand covered a breast the moment the other hand met the apex of her thighs. “You feel good.”

  “Ahhh.” His thumb strummed over her tit, her panty-covered clit. “Locke.”

  “You sound good,” he said against her neck, eyes watching everything in the mirror.

  “I’m just standing here,” she whimpered. She felt the natural juices of her body lubricating her passageway, wetting her underwear, and damn, how she wanted his deft fingers to slip under the fabric.

  “Good, babe. Keep doing that.” He massaged her breast, rolling his hands firmly, making her ass squirm, but his fingers wouldn’t let her most needy area escape. Locke switched to the other breast, plucking at her nipple, thumbing it, and easing back.

  She arched, needing both his hands. Could a nipple make a woman orgasm? Hell. Her hips swayed. “Touch me,” she pleaded.

  He strung her tighter and tighter. Yes, she could
have an orgasm strictly from nipple stimulation—she was sure of it because it could happen soon. “Oh…”

  His lips tugged at her earlobe, and he pulled the fabric of the bra cups down as she watched their show play out in the mirror before them. There was a chance she could. “Locke… please.”

  Coolness teased her exposed skin, and he cupped her breast and rolled her bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Shit. God. I might…” She was so close. Almost there.

  His mouth connected with her shoulder, and hot kisses trailed toward her neck, and his fingers swept under her panties, slipping against the wet folds.

  “Yes,” she groaned. “Really, I’m… Oh.”

  The pad of his thumb circled the bud of her clit, and he slid two thick fingers inside her, pumping with the rhythm of her hips, twisting and plucking the nipple in her hand. His teeth grabbed onto her shoulder, and she bucked, crying and riding his fingers. “Yes,” she moaned. The climax hit her like a hurricane.

  His mouth moved to her ear. “Do it again.”

  “A minute,” she gasped, barely able to see straight as his hands moved to hold her waist and he kissed down her back.

  She heard the sound of her skirt’s zipper before she realized he had it down.

  “Turn around for me, Cassidy.”

  She did as Locke bent onto his knees, dragging the pencil skirt down, kissing her stomach, hips, thighs as it fell to the ground.

  “High heels and these?” Locke snagged a finger under the edge of her panties. “Fucking hot.”

  She might be able to come again from this powerful man on his knees saying that. He wrapped his forearm behind her thighs and lifted her onto the counter, spreading her legs as she instinctively snapped her knees shut. He slid his hands up her legs and dragged her underwear to the side, exposing her folds.

  Stunned and blinking, she looked down at him. She had never been with someone so alpha strong and primal, so needy, and it was fucking insane. Erotic. She was on display. Her pleasure was his, and her body hummed, more aroused and alive than she’d ever been.

  “This is crazy.”

  “What is?” He scooted her closer to the edge of the counter and nuzzled his nose against her pussy. “Because this?” He rubbed her slowly. Methodically. “This is sexy as fuck.”

  “I thought this was a task.”

  He drew his fingers back, stroking against her slit. “If that’s what you thought, you’ve been with the wrong guys.”

  Her mind froze. Had she? Hell, she didn’t know. Didn’t matter—Oh, God. He was making her insane as his sweet tongue traced the same strokes as his fingers.

  “Locke,” she cried as her knees shook.

  He shouldered her legs wider, and both of his hands went to work, exposing her innermost skin with a gentle touch. His lips, tongue, the stubble on his cheek—the combination made her moan, and she let her fingers thread into his hair, feeling each move his head made. Sweet Lord…

  His stiff tongue fucked her, fingers taking their turn. She couldn’t make sense of it all. So many sensations—too many to love. She closed her eyes, rocking and writhing as he made every vibration work in the right way.

  Locke pulled the fabric of her underwear farther to the side. “Fuck, I want this.” His lips feathered along the patch of trim hair, and he squeezed her ass. “All of this.”

  “God.” Each word sent a shockwave across her nerves, and he never stopped the onslaught of rhythmic thrusts into her body.

  Cassidy buckled. “I need this…” She gasped, knotting her fingers, knowing she pulled too much, unable to help herself. “So much.”

  Panting, shaking, she wanted more and couldn’t move. He curled his fingers inside her body. “Locke!”

  He rasped his five-clock shadow along her skin. “Come for me.”

  God. She fell apart and bucked against his mouth, on his hand.

  “Good, Beauty. Good.” He nuzzled his lips back and forth, and she jumped as he pulled back, kissing up her hip, her stomach. “Goddamn, good girl.”

  Spent. She couldn’t even remember how to move—

  But she didn’t have to. Locke wrapped his arm around her, lifting her off the counter. “You did so good.”

  Her pussy still twitched and quivered as he carried her in a star-struck daze. A flush coated her limbs, a smile lingered on her cheeks, and she leaned forward, kissing him wherever her lips landed—against his neck, mixed in with his hair. “I pulled your hair.”

  “Battle scar I’ll gladly take.” He crawled them onto the bed.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever look at my bathroom the same way again.”

  ***

  Locke’s phone rang, and he ignored it. Staying in bed with Cassidy was the only thing on his agenda. Deepening the kiss, he flexed his cock against her, and she groaned. One of her legs wrapped around his, and her hands had found their way under the back of his shirt, scratching in a way that made his dick harder than he could ever remember.

  The fucking phone rang again. “Ignore it,” he said.

  It kept ringing, and if he could have reached it without taking his hands off her and thrown it against the brightly painted wall, he might’ve.

  “I’m not trying to be a buzzkill,” Cassidy mumbled against his lips, “but someone’s really trying to get a hold of you.”

  Jesus Christ. There had better be a five-alarm fire, and every other man alive had better have disappeared off the face of the earth. “Damn it. Hold on.”

  He rolled off her and grabbed the phone from her nightstand, where he’d tossed everything from his pockets: keys, phone, and goddamn condom.

  Rocco. Locke gritted his teeth as he pulled his act together—he could handle a two-minute conversation with his boss—and tried to sound like he hadn’t been two minutes away from diving dick first into the sweetest pussy to walk the planet.

  He swiped the phone. “Yeah. Hey, Boss.”

  Locke turned to face Cassidy, who had wrapped her pale body around a turquoise body pillow, high heels still on. Her hair stood out starkly against the white comforter as she waited near a backboard of boldly colored, randomly sized pillows.

  As Rocco talked, Cassidy patiently waited for him to come back. Was there a better sight than that? Fuck, he didn’t think so.

  “Hey, asshole,” Rocco snapped. “Yes or no?”

  Well, fuck. “Say again?”

  “You want the intel or not?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “The reporter probably does too. You want her read-in on this too?”

  Locke paused. Hell. Because as much as he’d have liked to avoid a fucking ass-chewing from Rocco, he didn’t want to put Cassidy’s life in danger just to have a less bumpy conversation.

  “Rapunzel, did you hear a fucking word I said?” Rocco snapped.

  “Shit, sorry. I was—”

  “Traffickers. Delta team,” his boss said, interrupting a distracted inability to pull together a bullshit excuse. “They picked up new intel. The Mikhailovs are expanding into human trafficking.”

  What. The. Fuck. “Paying attention now.” Locke pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do we know?”

  “They have eclectic taste, and we got our hands on what they’re calling the shopping list for their oligarch buddies.”

  “And Delta’s going in?” Locke asked.

  “We don’t know who’s doing what.” By Rocco’s tone, that wasn’t a satisfactory situation. “But with a break like this, something’s sure to come in soon. Get your ass to HQ. Talk to the reporter. See what she knows and what her interest level is.”

  He muttered. “I can already tell you her interest is high.”

  Cassidy’s eyebrows rose.

  “I’ll head that way,” Locke said.

  “How high?” Rocco pushed.

  “High.”

  “Good. Parker’s working his angles. Hell, grab her if you think she’s interested. But get her fast. We’re not waiting around.”


  “Roger that.” The call ended, and Locke stared at the blank screen. “So…”

  Cassidy sat on the bed, turquoise pillow folded over and tucked to cover her. The mood was effectively over—thank you, Rocco.

  “So?” Cassidy couldn’t have looked more interested if she’d painted a sign that read Spit It Out.

  He weighed the idea of asking for a quickie before deciding that the blue balls he was about to suffer was worth having if he could orgasm with her the way he’d just made her come. That might not happen if he tossed out the idea of a thirty-second hump-and-run. Fucking hell, he was hornier than he’d ever been in his life, and knew she might be too, but they could wait a few extra hours.

  He gritted his molars together. “Change of plans, maybe.” He shifted uncomfortably in his jeans, frustrated but hoping he was making the right decision, and cleared his throat. “Have you ever been to Titan Group?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The phone rang, pulling Alex from sleep. He blinked in the darkness and looked around. His hangover was gone, but not the nightmare, though he was clearly awake. Mikhailov’s people were calling him, and hell, he needed to get control of the situation.

  Alex took a deep breath as the phone continued to ring, and he tried to ignore images of Cassidy piled at the bottom of her stairs. He wanted to throw the damn thing across the room and let it shatter in the dark shadows.

  Hell. It wouldn’t stop ringing, and he suffered through another worried thought that Cassidy was seriously hurt before he took the phone off the charger and stared at it—a Russian phone number.

  His heart stalled.

  That was not like the Mikhailovs. They used US phone numbers, rarely calling direct from Russia, and that number didn’t seem familiar. Uneasy, he swiped the call to answer it, a slice of hope daring him to become more awake. “Hello?”

  Dead air hung. He pulled the phone back to see if the call was still active. It was. “Hello?”

  “Alexander.” Taisia’s whisper hugged his heart. “Sladkiy?”

  He bolted upright in bed as honey fell from her tongue, clinging to the phone as though he could hold her, terrified that something was wrong with their daughter, and in tears that the woman he loved had said his name. “Is Alyona okay?”