Page 23 of Locke

Locke tasted good, too.

My lips moved lazily, my tongue darting to meet his. It was hard—so hard not to get lost in this fucked up situation. I felt a fissure at my centre, and I saw the road being built before me now. I could do this. I could give myself to this demented monster, and he could do all the unimaginable, sick things I’d only dreamt about.

Except… I felt an opening the second he gave me more room.

Adrenaline ripped through me as I squirmed once more beneath him, but this time it was the perfect amount of space for me to bring my knee up and painfully deliver it against his balls and make my getaway.

Only… that didn’t happen.

My heart stopped in dismay when he caught my knee right before I made my mark. He pulled back, cutting the kiss short as his eyes darted to mine, and I knew right then and there, I had fucked up.

“Trying to hurt me, little lion?” he asked, but his voice was colder than ice. The fire that had ignited between us swiftly went out, replaced by an arctic blast.

I answered him with a smack across the face, right over the bloodied scratch I’d given him. His head didn’t even move from that vicious onslaught, and in an instant, even in the dark, I could see his cheek reddening.

Fuck.

I twisted around and made my epic escape, and he did exactly like he did before: he let me crawl away, but the second I began to jump to my feet, he was there, swinging me back down to the earth again. Instead of flipping me on my back, though, he climbed up from behind me and settled his weight completely over me, forcing me face first into the earth.

His erection pressed against my back as his mouth dropped to my ear. “What did I say about provoking me?”

I shut my eyes as he ripped the dress off my body in two seconds flat.

Eight

Locke

He tore that ridiculous dress off her with the blade he gutted Pearson with. That cunt’s own fucking blade. He smirked, knowing he was putting this fucker to better use. Because fuck those cunts, Locke should have felt like he could breathe again, but his chest was still tight, and the hollowness was bottomless.

And now he had her beneath him—this fucking prey that fell from the sky and into his lap. Fucking his for the taking. He wanted to devour her but admired her instead. The way her skin looked under the night sky, splattered with rain drops, pebbled with goosebumps. Her small, curvy body painfully defenceless against him.

She was soft.

So fucking soft.

Locke wanted to lick every inch of her skin, wanted her pebbled nipples back in his mouth, wanted to know what her pussy tasted like. Fuck, he yearned, and it felt like a sharp ache he was not familiar with.

“What do you think happens to the little kid that goes poking around the closet, searching for the bogeyman?” he asked her, sliding the dress down those smooth legs now, his eyes glazed back at the sight of her ass. He placed his hand on her ass cheek, swallowing it whole. He squeezed hard and she yelped, and, fuck, how glorious the sight was, how stunning it was going to be when he spread them. “Do you think the bogeyman likes to be goaded by the little kid?”

She didn’t answer.

“Come on, little prey, why aren’t you talking?” he asked, gruffly, dropping his head to run his nose along her hair. She smelled like summer: citrus and gardenias and life—if ever there was a fucking scent he never knew existed until now, it was life. And suddenly Locke felt alive, high off her fight and vulgar mouth.

Who the fuck was she?

What the fuck was her name?

He cut into her bra next, and this time her entire body tensed beneath him. He could feel her shock, and he laughed darkly, repeating, “What did I say about provoking me?”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her voice tiny, afraid.

He slid the bra off and ran his hand down her spine. “Because I can, and I want to, and therefore I fucking will, temptress.”

All at once her shoulders began to rock. Locke’s movements paused along her spine as she sobbed loudly into the earth, wailing beneath him, pleading, “Please, please, don’t do this! Please, don’t kill me! Don’t hurt me! Please, I said it! I’m begging you—just stop! Please! Please, please!”

Locke looked up at the night sky, asking that cunt up there to grant him patience. Massaging his temples now, he returned my focus to her panties and used the blade to cut into them. “Fuck me, little lion, but your acting skills are awful. Have they worked on any monsters recently?”

Her sobs immediately died off, along with her shakes. “Fuck you,” she spat. “You fucking rapist.”

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