Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4)

by Cat Porter

  “If that’s not happy, I don’t know what is.” I stared at Butler once more. “You wouldn’t know what that was if it hit you in the head, would you?”

  “Would you?” he shot back, his eyes fierce.

  Would I?

  I wasn’t so sure actually. Blondie had a point. Truth had been spoken, blurted out into the hot afternoon air, and it stung like the jab of a needle, an inoculation a kid didn’t want to have. The blinding light of those words scorched us both as we stood there, searching each other’s eyes, waiting for the answer to a question that we both knew was utterly complicated and would not be given.

  The door at the other end of the shed shoved open, metal scraped, and deep laughter gave way to a loud female voice. “Give me that cock now!”

  The moment was gone.

  Butler gripped my arms and pulled me back into his chest, moving us further into the shed, out of view, behind a towering tool chest.

  Enthusiastic grunts and the heavy breathing of the busy couple echoed through the industrial space.

  “I know what that is. Do you?” Butler whispered in my ear.

  I elbowed him in the middle, and he let out a tight chuckle. I stiffened in his grip and pushed away.

  He held me fast. “Shh. Trust me, Tania. You don’t want us to be caught listening and watching those two. Ah, geez, look at her go.”

  My mouth gaped open. Pushing up her stretchy miniskirt, the woman had the guy on the floor and had scrambled on top of him. She was doing what I believed was called a reverse cowgirl. She held herself up on her arms as she pumped her pelvis up and down, taking him in.

  Did she have gymnastics training in order to do that?

  I let out an exhale. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.” His warm breath tickled over my neck as his arms tightened around me, and my hand squeezed his forearm.

  An illicit thrill shot through me as we watched the live porn show together. I liked Butler’s firm grip on me. I liked the insistent press of his rough erection through the thin silk of my dress up against my rear. I liked his presumption. I liked the smell of ash and tequila wafting from his breath, the incrementally slow rock of his pelvis against me, offering a crude sort of pleasure in friction, his hand pressing into my middle, sliding lower and lower where that ache bloomed.

  Oh, what the hell?

  I sank against him. A sound erupted in his chest as his one hand slid around my right thigh. My head fell back on his shoulder. I’d always been attracted to Butler. Who wasn’t? Tall, muscular, blond, and blue-eyed, a sparkle of audacity and vulgar ever present in the lick of his gaze. Every girl’s wet dream.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I breathed, the side of my face pressed against his.

  “Whatever the hell I want, which is what you want.” His lips sucked on the skin of my neck.

  I turned and gave him my mouth, my fingers sliding through his thick hair. Oh, that hair. I’d always wondered what it would feel like. I tugged on it, its softness sliding through my fingers like thick silk, its almost fruity scent gave way to a forest fresh green, an edge of lemon. Energizing, elusive. Enticing.

  I wanted more.

  We kissed like enemies clanging swords on a battlefield littered with our dead. We were the only survivors locked in the final battle, both of us knowing there would be no victors.

  He fisted my hair in his one hand, tugging my head back, and I let out a cry. His other hand gripped my jaw, tilted my face up. Strong, firm hands. Hands that I was sure had killed and tortured. Hands that knew how to use a knife, a gun. Hands that made a mass of chrome and steel zoom across the highway at a hundred miles per hour.

  Hands that could hurt me now.

  And it only turned me on more.

  His fingers drifted down and circled my throat, pressing there. “After this, you gonna go crying to your friend, the bride, and bitch about how I fucked you and left you?”

  “No,” I breathed. “And you? You going to brag to your brothers about what an easy lay I was?”

  One of his dark blond eyebrows slanted, his thumb grazing my lower lip. “No.”

  My tongue swiped at his thumb, and he hissed in air, his eyes glittering.

  The biker fucking the Cowgirl just beyond us muttered a mile a minute about how hard his cock was. Loud moans and the sounds of slapping flesh filled the suddenly stifling space.

  My fingers curled into Butler’s black T-shirt. “This is for me. Maybe I want to see what all the fuss over you is about. And maybe I want something just for me. I’ll be out of here in a few weeks anyway. Grace doesn’t even know I’m leaving yet. What’s your excuse?”

  “I don’t need an excuse.” He turned me in his arms, smashing my back against his broad chest.

  His hand found a breast and kneaded it. My insides twanged like overly tight guitar strings. I wanted him to tune me, pull music from me.

  “This about getting back at Grace?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

  “Maybe yes, and maybe no.”

  “At least you’re being honest.”

  He laughed.

  “Shh. Those two will hear us.”

  He pulled my head back, his mouth crashing down on mine. “Do you care?”

  “Shut up, and let’s do this already.”

  His hands yanked my dress up to my hips, and he moved us backward before pushing me onto a worn vinyl sofa against the wall. I kicked over a pile of magazines, and they tumbled to the floor in a messy heap.

  “Get over here,” he ordered.

  My pulse leaped at his command, and I wiped my hair out of my face. I shifted into practical; that always steadied me. “Do you have a rubber?”

  “Always prepared.” He unzipped his leather pants and released a thick hard cock.

  “Holy shit. Will it fit?” tumbled from my mouth.

  He untucked a foil packet from his vest. “Did I just make a good impression?” He tore the small square packet with his teeth, and my heart banged in my chest at the rip. “I’ll make it fit.”

  “You do that, but be gentle, okay? At first. Then…you know…”

  He smirked as he fit himself with the rubber, stroking his length. “You really gonna tell me what I’m gonna do with my own dick?”

  I bit my lip. “Can you do gentle, Butler? At least in the beginning?”

  His eyes snapped up at mine. “Yeah, I can do gentle. And I’ll let you know when my gentle is over. How’s that?”

  I made a face. “That’s mighty kind of you.”

  He pushed me back against the ratty cracked cushions and ran his fingers between my legs. My back arched at the contact. He tugged the halter top of my dress down until my breasts spilled out. He sucked on one breast then the other, his teeth scraping at my nipples, his hard erection slapping against my middle. My hands dug into his hair once more. It was really a beautiful blond. Silky, soft ribbons of silver, gold, and pale honey painted by the sun. Touching it could become an addiction, for sure.

  “She broke your heart, didn’t she?” I asked.

  “Who?” came his muffled voice against my skin.

  “Grace.”

  “Jesus. We gonna have a conversation now?”

  My shoulders tensed, and my face heated all over again.

  “Spread your legs more. Lift ’em up.”

  I complied as he nibbled on the underside of a breast.

  “I don’t have a heart to break anyway,” he mumbled.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “That’s me. Take it—” He pushed inside me.

  I gasped, tilting my hips up to meet him, and he thrust again, letting out a grunt.

  His eyes met mine. “Or leave it.”

  “I’ll definitely take it. Ah, shit.”

  He rocked against me and nudged deeper. “Where’s a heart going to get me anyway? So, one of you can stomp on it?” He slowly thrust again, as promised. “So, one of you can turn on me and leave me hanging?” He dragged himself out and drove his hips in one motion.
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  My grip on him tightened. A painful invasion. A build of tight pleasure.

  “Ah, fuck. I can’t do gentle now,” he said on a hiss. “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Go faster. Faster.”

  My hands slid over his tight carved-in-stone ass as he pumped into me. He raised himself up, extending his arms on either side of my torso.

  “What do you want out of this?” he grunted.

  “An orgasm would be good—oh, damn!” I adjusted myself on the cramped sofa.

  He ground against my pelvis, his angle perfectly stroking my clit. “Guaranteed. What else?” His breath came fast and hard through his mouth.

  I want something just for me, without my own brain telling me, Don’t do that, Tania. That’s not good for you, Tania. You’ll regret it later, Tania.

  I did want an orgasm. I wasn’t joking. I never came while having sex. I was difficult, as one college boyfriend had labeled me, the one who’d actually noticed. Maybe here, now with Butler, it would happen. He was very sexy, I was pretty turned on, and he seemed to know how to make it happen. We were being spontaneous, and I needed to be spontaneous. This could work. I could get over that bump in my sexual highway, couldn’t I?

  Butler worked it above me, his head turned to the side, his neck rigid with the effort.

  I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my pelvis relaxed under his assault, to go with it, to let go. I jammed my eyes closed.

  “I knew it. You’re a self-control freak.”

  My eyes snapped open and met his glaring ones. “Shut up!”

  “You ever even come before?”

  “Of course I have!”

  “How?”

  “What do you care?”

  “Tell me.”

  “When I touch myself.”

  “Not during sex?”

  I gritted my teeth, and he ground himself over me again, hitting my clit with his pelvis, filling me to the hilt.

  “Oh my God!”

  “Yeah. You’re gonna come on my godly cock if it’s the last thing I do in this town.”

  My lungs tightened, as if they would explode at any second. He pressed my legs higher against my chest and thrust deeper inside me. My flesh burned in his tight grip as the new angle ignited intense destruction in all my secret places. Places I hadn’t known I had.

  “You feeling it?” he grunted, his brow shimmering with sweat.

  God, yes, I feel it.

  That simmer boiled in my veins. An unfamiliar molten heat exploded between my legs, rising through me, lifting me.

  Butler had his eyes closed. He was concentrating on getting the job done. I was trapped, at his mercy. I turned my head. Half-built bikes and huge tool chests and parts were scattered through the cavernous space, silently witnessing our debauchery.

  Here I was, in a back room of the repair shop of the One-Eyed Jacks, getting banged, like one of their party sluts, in the most expensive dress I had ever bought for myself in honor of my best friend’s wedding. Here I was, fucking the guy she’d had a kind of crush on, the guy who had had a thing for her and gotten punished because of it.

  His breathing grew choppier, and his jaw stiffened as he thrust inside me over and over again. The impossible fullness reached up to my throat.

  Butler worked his cock inside me like a pro. He worked it.

  He worked me.

  “Come on my face! Yeah, that’s it! Oh, yeah!” Cowgirl’s voice rang out.

  My skin heated, and my chest constricted.

  Wrong, all wrong.

  My head spun. Too much cheap wine.

  Too much. Too fucking much.

  My brain took over, dousing ice-cold water on every inflamed tip of sensation coursing through me. My hips went rigid.

  “Wait,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Could you—”

  “What? You don’t like it?”

  I pushed against him, my eyes flaring.

  “Quit moving. Fuck. Hang on—” He propped himself up over me at an angle now, firmly pinning my one leg back, and thrust even faster. “Oh, yeah, almost there—”

  The slick sounds of our flesh made me cringe, his short breaths getting more intense. He was an animal in heat, moving to his own instinctual rhythm, and I was the prey.

  My body tensed, every muscle stiff. I wanted this to be done. This…this wasn’t enjoyable. This was—

  “Yes, baby! Yes!” shouted Cowgirl.

  Butler grunted above me, his grip on my leg burning, painful.

  A deluge of crude.

  My lungs fought for air. “No, really, Butler. Stop! Stop, goddamn it!”

  He stopped moving, his ragged breathing clipped. “What the fuck?”

  “Just get off me!” I pushed against him.

  He grunted loudly as he jacked up, pulling his slick cock out of me. Dropping back against the sofa, he wiped at his damp face with his arm. His shiny, rubber-encased hard dick stood at shocked attention as my insides stuttered at the sudden hollowness.

  “What the hell? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Sorry. This is just—I can’t—”

  The snap of the wet condom being pulled off sliced through the air. He lifted his pelvis and jerked his leathers back up over his bare body. “Shit. Just my luck. Serves me right. Cannot fucking believe…”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “You’re a fucking piece of work. Piece of ice. As if I didn’t know. Dig told me you were a ballbuster. Should’ve listened.”

  “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a hard-ass bitch. That’s what that means! Uptight as fuck.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “You’re obviously not capable of that, so try again.”

  I pressed myself into the corner of the sofa. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else to fuck out there. Big deal.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I will. Someone who can handle it.” He slid his hand up and down the bulge in his pants, adjusting himself. “You can’t start something and then just say no, like some innocent virgin. Didn’t your mama ever teach you that fact of life?”

  “I hate you, Butler.”

  “Feeling’s mutual, little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl!”

  “I’ve had high schoolers begging me to fuck them, honey. But you’re too damn uptight to take it on. Ice Queen.”

  I wanted to escape, run away, hide in the bowels of the earth.

  I snapped the fabric of my dress in place, smoothing it over my shaking body. “I hope you enjoy your exile up north.”

  “I’m a One-Eyed Jack,” he bit out. “It’s what we do best—survival, making do, carrying on.”

  “Well then, Mr. Jack, I hope you grow up while you’re at it.”

  “You’re never getting this chance again, so you know.”

  “Woe is me! You deserve what you got, you know that?”

  “Shut the fuck up!” He lunged toward me, his finger jabbing the air, his jaw sharp. “You don’t know nothing about it! Nothing about me!”

  “Oh, wait! You mean there’s a real human being underneath that blond mop and leather jacket?”

  “You deserve a smack for that, but I’m gonna be a gentleman here.”

  “A gentleman uses his mind, douchebag. You, however, think with your dick; that’s what you do. Doesn’t matter who or what gets in your way.”

  “We’re done here.” He rolled his shoulders. “Happy trails, Ice Queen. I hope I never lay eyes on you again.”

  His boots stomped out of the shed, the metal door swinging wide open and screeching on its hinges. I sank back down on the sofa, trembling. The cheering, the laughs, and the music in the distance grew louder, bolder, and only made me feel smaller.

  TANIA TRACED CIRCLES WITH HER FORK in the puddle of chocolate sauce in her dish.

  She was remembering; I knew she was. I let out a heavy breath. So was I.

  I’d pretty much made myself forget about our fuck
that had never happened. I’d slung it on the pile of my greatest hits of all time. Grace and Dig’s wedding was the last time Tania and I had seen each other—until I’d bumped into her and Grace in Nebraska three months ago.

  And here we were now, having a swell time together.

  Her shiny, long hair was a rich almost black color against her pale skin, and her dark eyes were huge and really expressive, almost startling. You could pick up a million different things she was trying to hide with every nuance and flick of those exotic eyes, and I was sure she didn’t miss much as those eyes swept over you, leaving a trail of steam behind. Tania was a little taller than average, slim, but that curvy ass I’d admired once upon a time filled out those tight dark jeans she was wearing over a nice long set of legs. A thin gold chain with a green quartz crystal on it slid over her pronounced collarbone. She was a heady mix of high-class elegance and down-to-earth casual.

  Chairs scraped against the pockmarked tiled floor of the small restaurant. Two elderly men settled in at the table next to ours, removing their jackets. I went back to my toast, and Tania continued to swirl her fork in her ice cream.

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Floyd, but I’ve got to do something. The taxes on that property are going to come in now and bite me in the ass. Sadie is gonna have my neck for not dealing with this crap sooner. There’s so much junk in that house. I swear to God, I’d rather just torch the whole damn thing and be done with it.”

  “Have a garage sale or something,” said Floyd, scanning the menu.

  “Ah, that takes a lot of work. I don’t know shit about that.”

  “Excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear that you might have old things you’d like to sell?” Tania asked.

  My head snapped up. Those spellbinding eyes of hers were riveted on the two men at the next table. The guy and his pal Floyd only frowned at her.

  “My name is Tania.”

  “Dave,” the man mumbled, his eyes wide. Yep, spellbound.

  “Dave, I collect old used things, curiosities, heirlooms, furniture. Here’s my card.” She passed him a large-sized business card, and he took it. “I’m always looking for a variety of vintage items. If you turn the card over, you’ll see a list of what I’m on the lookout for.”