Page 25 of Locke

Pulling back, he flipped her on her back, his knees on either side of her hips. He stared intently at her face, his heart rattling like it might jump out of his chest. Her eyes spewed filthy curses at him, but her mouth spread, and she took his cock into her mouth with a light, breathy moan.

“Fuck yes, woman,” Locke growled as she licked his cock like a fucking lollipop.

And then he felt it—his cock between the harsh glide of her teeth. He grinned down at her as she went still, her teeth clenched around the head of his cock, glaring at him.

“Crazy woman,” he seethed, his cock growing impossibly hard now at her quiet threat. “Bite it, I dare you.”

Not the response his little prey expected.

She let go of his cock and turned her head away, denying him her mouth. He gripped her jaw, forcing her face back to him. He pressed his thumb between her lips. “Open,” he demanded, forcing it between her teeth. She bit his thumb next, drawing blood, and when he dropped to steal another kiss, she slapped his face again. He felt more blood trickle down his cheek and a shot of adrenaline followed. Feeling feral, he ran his teeth harshly along her jaw, tempted to bite her in a vicious retort, but he growled with displeasure instead and flipped her back on her front. She screamed and attempted to kick her legs out, but he caught them between his own and held her down.

The fight once again left her bones, but it felt premature of her to give up so quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Locke murmured, covering her small back with his chest. He ran his nose along her shoulder blade and back to her ear. He was so utterly intoxicated by her existence, by her scent. This fucking beauty Obsession clawed for, screeching at the centre of him to, TakeherTakeherTakeher. “You were fighting just moments ago, woman. Why have you stopped?”

She didn’t respond, but he heard her pants, saw her mouth parted as she turned her head to the side and sucked in those breaths. Locke wrapped his hand around his cock, wet from the rain and her saliva, and stroked it, groaning into her back at the delightful little tremors that possessed him. His senses fired straight through him, the sights, the smells, the fucking feelings. This feisty little thing trapped beneath him, squirming again, twisting like she wanted to look, wanted to see him about to violate her. He brushed his cock down the line of her ass, and this time she shook wildly, her fingers sinking into the earth as she rocked her hips up and let out a shuddering moan.

Locke’s body sank further over her, shielding her from the rain as he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her still beneath him. His cock prodded at her wet pussy as he hoarsely said, “In the dark, it’s okay to like what you shouldn’t. It’s okay to fight when you want to surrender, too.”

But she shook her head. “This is disgusting.”

“But you’re wet.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

“But you do.”

To that, she didn’t answer.

Locke felt her melancholy. He sensed the conflict and the disdain. Somewhere in that mix was the fear, and if she was anything like him, the fear was an addictive beast that demanded to be fed.

And if she was like him, she would buck those sexy hips despite her dismay.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, and you’re going to scream like you’ve never screamed before, and nobody—temptress, are you listening?—nobody will ever fucking know what we did. Spread for me.”

He waited tentatively for her response, waiting for her scathing curses, but she bucked her hips into him as she pounded her forehead against the earth once more.

Yet another response he didn’t expect.

His cock twitched as his body shuddered from want, from need, from an avalanche of desire suddenly unleashed.

He got high off her fear, but there was something else too. A spark of something that went a little deeper than desire. She wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be this fucking responsive, either.

She shook beneath him, her pants growing louder. He felt her body’s response, saw her fingers digging into the earth like she was holding on for dear life.

And this—this was the fucking reason why he was drawn to her. She didn’t behave like all the others would have in her position. She didn’t submit without a fight.

The problem with being a monster was the sheer power that was attached to it. To be able to do unimaginable things meant you weren’t emotionally shackled by universal principles. Locke could do that. He could take a life and sleep easy. He could know his men were breaking the law and not bat a fucking eye.

The issue he felt in that single moment was he could take her, fuck her so hard and she would enjoy it. But swiftly thereafter she would turn on herself. She would hate herself. She would forever feel disdain with herself than him, and he couldn’t allow that. And not allowing that meant still, somewhere inside of him, he was shackled to those principles after all.

He ground his teeth, shaking his head to himself. Of all the things he did not expect to ever happen to him, this one was at the top of the list.

Because he wanted her disdain reserved for him, and even worse, he did not want to let her go long after he had used her.

The searing pain he had been adamantly avoiding sent another shockwave into his body, reminding him that he was injured, and this was a stupid mistake. He’d endured worse injuries, so he could have easily fed that sweet little pussy his cock and consumed her wholly. He tried to imagine what it would be like, to ravage a body such as hers, with a spirit so fierce, fucking her against the earth with the rain rushing over them.

It would have been fucking beastly.

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