Locke 2 (Blackwater Boys #4)

Twelve

Kali

T he sound of digging woke me up. I turned to my side and blinked my eyes open. I squinted in the darkness, making out Dahlia’s little form as she dug into her little bed, trying to make it more comfortable. I wondered what was wrong. Was she feeling sick and restless? I watched for a few more moments, noticing the way she tried to then bury her body under the blanket.

She was cold.

“Hey, beauty,” I groggily whispered, bringing my arm down so that my hand brushed against the floor. At the sound of my fingers running along the floor, she leapt out of bed and went to me, an excited spring in her step. I scooped her up straight away and slid her little body under the covers. Usually, she didn’t like this. She preferred her bed and to be able to get up and move around, but when she didn’t protest, I knew she must have been cold. Still, she decided to scurry to the other side of the bed and get comfortable as far from me as possible. Ever the independent dog.

Now that I squirmed around, trying to get comfortable under the covers, I was unusually cold, too. Maybe we needed to finally turn on the heater. I dreaded what the bills would come to with it on.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, soothingly. “We’ll warm up soon enough.”

The stillness in the room slowly returned. I waited for the peaceful lull in the dead of night that would take me back under and away from everything. I took a deep breath, desperate for it.

It was only as Dahlia began to settle on the opposite side of bed that I could feel a cool breeze along my face. That wasn’t right. It was cold, sure, but not that cold.

Confused, I opened my eyes again.

I didn’t move for a long time. I shivered, unblinking, as soft little sounds disturbed the silence. They’d been sounds I would have chalked up to being Dahlia rummaging around, but she was in bed with me.

A zap of awareness ran through me and my heart sped up. The sounds were close. Quiet steps. In the bedroom. Feet from where I lay. I still didn’t move as fear began to mount inside me. I tried to reason that it could be sleep paralysis, except I didn’t sense an evil presence.

It wasn’t a good presence, either.

There was a prickling at the back of my neck. A feeling of being watched. The feeling I’d been waiting for the last two days. I sucked in a breath. He was here—

Suddenly something cold and hard pressed against my head. I froze, the fear jolting every atom of my being awake. I recognized the feel of that damn gun. I’d committed it to memory when he’d used it on me that night he murdered the man in the ladies’ room of that club. You don’t forget a feeling like that.

As I turned my head, a large hand wrapped around my throat and the scent of him hit me strongly. I shut my eyes, pretending this was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t over me right now, choking me.

But then his body climbed over the bed, and the mattress shifted. He settled over me, and still, I didn’t open my eyes. He was so quiet, I didn’t hear him breathe, but I felt his breaths. Felt them against my face as he dropped down to whisper, “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

I opened my mouth to respond but no words came out. He let my throat go and I turned my head to the side, refusing to look at him. I didn’t realise until that moment how unprepared I was.

How terrifying he was.

“Silly little lion,” he growled, anger lacing his tone. “You almost got away.”

I still didn’t respond.

“I almost let you,” he added, his voice tight and fuming. “Almost.”

That gun was still pressed against the side of my head, and while his other hand wasn’t around my throat, it was now grabbing at my clothing. It was whiplash. His movements were rough and angry. He felt my stomach, sliding his hand below the waistband of my pyjamas and panties, grabbing at my core. I stilled and went to shout at him to stop when he tapped the gun against my head, causing my heart to jerk.

“Remember who’s in charge,” he warned, as his hand settled over my core. He didn’t move his fingers. He just had it placed there, like he was claiming it, like it belonged to him. Well, with that gun to my head, he could fucking have it.

My breathing picked up. I wanted to look up at him, but it was so dark, and my eyes had yet to adjust to my surroundings. Plus, I kept closing them. I kept waiting for this to be a dream.

How many times had I dreamt of him doing this very thing?

My pussy stirred at his simple touch. The boldness—suddenness—of it. He didn’t have to stimulate me to get a reaction. I felt ashamed of how quickly my lower belly came alive, warmed and wanting.

No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

What was supposed to happen, I questioned myself. Did I think he’d just knock on my fucking door? Locke wasn’t normal. He wouldn’t have waited for me to invite him in.

But I could still talk sense into him. He wasn’t so far gone, right?

I licked my trembling lips, pushing out, “Locke—”

“Shut up.”

I was shaking everywhere. My pulse was in my ears, thumping away. I squeezed my eyes even tighter, but I felt the tears form as he leaned over me, his hot hand still cupping me. The gun hadn’t moved, but I felt it shake. I felt the vibrations of his anger—so much anger—I felt I’d made a very bad mistake.

This is what he is. A predator. You asked for this.

I thought I knew that already, but I didn’t remember the consequences until that very moment. I’d literally invited a killer back into my life, and now I was fucked. “Locke—”

He kissed me suddenly. It was a punishing kiss. So hard, I knew it would bruise. He kissed me in a self-servient way. He didn’t care if I kissed him back. I was hardly able to keep up with the feel of his lips. I simply surrendered my mouth to him, allowing him to bite at my lips, to search my mouth with his tongue, tasting me.

In fact, he didn’t stop tasting me.

He sucked at my bottom lip, biting it hard, and I cried out from the pain. Blood coated my mouth, and he groaned in approval, lapping it up before he sucked and kissed at the corner of my mouth and then my cheek and chin and down to my throat. I gasped, my eyes forced open now to stare up at the ceiling as he finally dragged his hand from my pussy to wrap around my breast.

“Locke—”

“No,” he gritted, his mouth back on mine. He bit my bottom lip once more in warning, and I shut my eyes again, anything so that I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I didn’t know what I might feel if I did. He chuckled, but it came out cold and eerie. “You knew this was going to happen.”

I shook my head, and he let out that sound again. That cold little laugh. And while he was cold with his words, his touch was another matter. He explored my entire body with his hand, that gun still pointed at my head, but I knew it was more for his benefit.

He wanted to be in charge, to stop any possibility of my resistance. Even without the damn thing, I wouldn’t have resisted, but I wouldn’t admit that. We were both shielded by this illusion. We counted on it. It spoke clearly of what this was: me, the prey, and he, the predator. Me, the victim that wanted to run away. He, the killer that could easily decide my fate.

In a flash of a second, we were back to simpler times.

And it felt nice to give him the control, to let him have the final say, but it was an inferno that would burn out fast with our lies.

It didn’t mean my body was listening, though.

I let him touch me. I even made sounds when he flipped my shirt up to find my bare breasts. He tongued my nipple, and his breath hitched. He muttered, “Perfect little tits,” and continued on his way. He pulled my pants and underwear off me in one swift move and by now he was down the bed, the gun at his side and not at my head. I could have maybe got away if I wanted to, and I pretended I really wanted to. I made to slide off the bed when his hands gripped my hips, forcing me in place. I felt his eyes at me, his body stilling unnaturally. I stared up at the ceiling, trembling, as his voice cut through the air. “No.”

A command.

No.

As in, don’t fucking dare run from me.

I fidgeted and now the room was full of my heavy breaths and nothing else. He tapped at my knees that I’d pressed tightly against each other.

Tap, tap.

I shook harder.

Tap, tap.

My knees relaxed.

Tap, tap.

My legs fell open and that cold laugh returned, mingling with my breaths. “Good choice, little prey.”

Fuck you, I wanted to say. I would have once. But that girl was still in a coma inside me. I’d put her to rest in order to exist in this neighbourly fucking town.

See, I was swearing a lot more inside my own damn head. Already he was making me animalistic, but it was nothing—fucking nothing compared to the hot breaths blowing at my pussy, and then his tongue—

His tongue seared my centre. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I literally jumped, every inch of me centred around his touch. I was so damn sensitive. I let out a gasp as that tongue lapped me slowly, taking his time to run it along my nerves, stopping right at my clit. He flicked my clit with the tip of his tongue, and I jumped again, my moan louder than the heartbeats in my ears.

“Best you get wetter, lioness,” he growled. “You’ll want it slick when I fuck you. When I tear this little pussy apart. When I destroy every inch of you. You deserve it, though.” That anger laced through his voice. “You deserve to feel hurt after what you’ve done to me.”

I shook my head, but I didn’t retort. Let him have it. I didn’t care. I just wanted his tongue, his pleasure, his cock. All of it. I was beyond all sense. My heart might burst in my chest. I might have a heart attack, and I didn’t mind so long as I got to feel the orgasms he gave me.

Again, he took my pussy into his mouth in that self-servient way, groaning deep in his throat. The vibrations ricocheted up my body, adding more to the pleasure I was deeply submerged in. He sucked at me, lapping me in this hungry, fiendish way. His fingers dug into my thigh, while the gun in his other hand bumped against my other. I raised my hips, shamelessly grinding against his face as the pleasure built.

His words cut through the air.

“Perfect little pussy…” he grunted. “So wet. You’ll need to be wetter, lioness. It’s been a while since I’ve fucked, and I’m not feeling hospitable.”

But I was gushing for him. I’d never been so slick. Even with the cold breeze, I was sweating. My entire body tightened, the build up deliciously fast, though he seemed to know when I might explode, so he backed away, letting that cold laugh out. He wasn’t amused by how easily he reduced me. He was angry, and so he punished me. I felt it in little ways. When his teeth skimmed my clit, when he left me hanging, when he dug his fingers deeper into my thigh, intending to leave marks.

He didn’t have to leave physical bruises. He was going to mark me regardless. My soul would feel the punishing strokes of his touch and what they truly meant for a long time to come.

He worked me, his tongue flat against my clit, and then he sucked hard—

I exploded, quivering as the orgasm made me go tight, tight, tight, and then limp and boneless. The room spun, the sparks in the dark swirling in my vision. I was still quaking from the after shakes when he rolled me over. His clothed chest pressed against my back. His hand gripped at my chin, tightly, his mouth at my ear, gritting out, “Did that feel nice, Kali?”

I was still gasping for breath when he kicked my legs apart. The movement made me tense again. I immediately tried to close them, but his knee forced them apart and his one worded order sent another jolt of fear down my spine. “No.”

But the no wasn’t as much of an order. It hitched at the end. Like he was damning me for even trying to close my legs on him. I shut my eyes again, wanting to pound my forehead on the mattress. I couldn’t move. I was pinned beneath him, so utterly at his mercy, and he was waiting for my submission.

He kept his knee there, letting the seconds tick by. I went limp again, and he hummed his approval as he settled more of his weight against me. He shuffled my hair aside and grazed his teeth along the back of my neck. “We didn’t have to hurt each other this time, did we?” he growled. “We might come out in one piece, Kali.”

“No,” I croaked out, defeated. “We won’t, Locke.”

“We won’t?” he returned. “Or I won’t? I think we’re both aware only one of us truly broke last time.”

My brows furrowed in question, but my response trailed away because he was back to touching me again. His hand gripped my breast, and his other hand worked the zipper of his pants. He freed himself and I tried to squirm—tried to spin the other way and have him fuck me with my back pressed against the mattress. I just wanted to touch him, after all. To kiss his plump lips and run my hands down his hard body.

But that wasn’t how it went.

He wanted me in this brutish position. He’d given me my orgasm and now he got to have his turn. I closed my eyes tightly, bracing myself, but it didn't work.

His cock slid into me fast and hard, shattering the orderly world I’d built around me. I cried out, but not from pain. It was that I’d lost control of my little world. It was literally slipping away before my eyes and there was nothing I could do to reclaim it.

He seated himself deep inside me, and I tried to jerk away and found I couldn’t. I gasped helplessly, taking it in, trying to accept him, trying to think, but I couldn’t think. I was only feeling, and it was centred on his length inside me, buried. I felt full. I felt vulnerable and afraid. I felt like he may very well do what he wanted to me, and I would accept every moment of it.

Then he moved.

He fucked me, his breaths hard against my hair. He didn’t kiss me, only bit along my shoulder. His hand squeezed painfully around my breast as he rocked in and out me. “Try to leave me again,” he warned, as he fucked me faster. “Fucking try, Kali.”

I cried out as he fucked me, holding on for dear life. In and out, the movements were colder than his laugh was, colder than his warnings and cruel words. He used me, but not in the way we’d originally intended.

There was havoc in him. A tension that he was trying to deplete. He was taking his aggression out on me, his fucking painful and punishing.

Yeah, he was punishing me.

And despite it all, despite the fucking pain and the anger and the loss of control, I still coated his cock with my slickness. I milked him, my body primed and wanting. I needed his length inside me, bruising me. I liked the surrender and the feeling of him seated there, pressing against that pleasure button that made me clench the sheets around me, crying into them. Oh, how I missed this. My legs kicked out beneath him, but it was me trying to move faster than he was, trying to push him back in every time he pulled out.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Take every inch of me, Kali.”

“Then fuck me harder, Locke.”

He let out a harsh moan and fucked me so hard, my vision spun, and everything hurt.

I came again; this time the explosion felt different. It was warm and long. Exhausted, I stopped moving. Completely at his surrender, I let him use me. And when he growled, “I’m going to come inside you, Kali.”

I eagerly replied, “Then come inside me.”

He stilled, his mouth buried in my hair, drowning out the loud groan he pushed out between his clenched teeth. I felt his length jerk deeply within me. My walls squeezed around him, pulsing, milking him, wanting every bit of him.

He drowned me in his violent release, and I was destroyed.

We didn’t move for some time. He didn’t pull out. His heartbeats thumped against my back. I nearly drifted off to sleep, cocooned in his warmth, when he finally pulled out.

Now I was throbbing, but not from pleasure, but from pain. I barely turned my body when he slid my pants back up my legs. His movements were not gentle as he did it. He got off the bed and a second later he’d placed Dahlia back on the bed again, and I half-wondered when he’d even removed her. She scurried to the other side to bury herself under the covers. My blinks were heavy, my body was leached of all energy, but my mind was dangerously awake.

What had we done?

Why did I let him back inside me so quickly, so easily?

And he—

He fucking moved about the room like what we’d done was nothing but a little detour in his day.

While I laid there, utterly ruined.