Page 5 of Locke

She wasn’t on the agenda. He was here for an entirely different person.

But something about her drew him in. She was absolutely hypnotic in her white dress. He ran his eyes along her form, enraptured by the way her dark skin popped. He wondered how soft she felt. His fingers tingled to run them along her legs, to trace a line up her inner thighs and see just how soft she might be there.

Locke closed his hand into a fist, shaking his head once to clear it.

Beautiful women were not difficult to come by, but he found out very fucking quickly how vapid they could be.

Against his better judgment, he continued to watch her, momentarily imagining her beneath him, wondering what it would feel like to have her nails digging into his skin as she let him obliterate her, hating him and needing him all at once. The perfect song a prey could sing was a tortured cry mixed with a needy moan.

One glimpse at her body, and he shook his head again. She was too polished, too prim. There would be no fight in her. She would cower and beg. She would never let someone like his dirty in. A girl like her demanded to be loved, not choking on a bad man’s cock as he selfishly came down her throat. She was like the airheaded friend she arrived with who was currently searching for a fuckboy’s dick to ride tonight.

And yet…

As Locke looked at her, he caught the way her face fell when her friend wasn’t looking. The way she glanced around the room, a lost look in those dark hypnotic eyes, like she was out of her element. For a split second, he caught the darkness—a look that both pierced him and shook him out of his equilibrium. An unsettling look that he was all too familiar with.

He watched her, unable to tear his gaze away.

A slight tremor when a man drew too close.

A gulp of her throat like she was holding back emotion.

A fake smile of confidence as her friend blasted her with more words.

Who was this beautiful little prey that he'd fucking drop to the ground and worship if she’d only let him fuck her with his hand wrapped firmly around her throat?

Now there was a story he wanted to get to the bottom of.

And fate—that clever little cunt—listened.

Three

Kali

We didn’t get loaded. We were too poor to order drinks, and we didn’t trust any of the dudes around us to order us any, either. We were way too street smart for that, and Hawthorne taught us a thing or two about trusting just anybody.

Still, we had a lot of fun dancing like two crazed idiots. It was tough, but I swallowed back my nerves, my reservations, and tried to let myself go. My head swivelled every few minutes, searching for Eric. He would be easy to spot, given he was six feet tall, blonde, tanned skin and bright blue eyes. He was so fucking hot, it made my chest go mushy just thinking about it.

If he was here, if he wanted me, if he was actually interested in me in that way—which I had a feeling he was because he always stared at me when we hung around the same group of people—how would we fall into each other? Would he dance with me first? Would he kiss me right here on the dance floor? Would he touch me possessively? I had thought about it many times at night. What it would be like to have him over me, warming me up. Would he fuck me hard or slow? I hoped he took me hard. I hoped he wrapped his hand around my throat just a little bit. I hoped he stared at me in the eyes with a dark look in his, speaking to me with just one look that said: I’m going to take it, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. Fight me, take me—it’s going to end with me inside you regardless.

Eric could very well be that kind of man.

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

A hot feeling warmed my skin. I looked around, staring at countless faces, wondering why I felt like someone was—

I shook my head, clearing my senses of the silly thought I almost had.

“He’s here!” Sylvia shouted in my ear.

I turned my head and there he was, grinning at me nervously with a beer in hand, that blond hair cropped short, his face boyish and cute.

Still feeling a strange tug in the centre of me I couldn’t explain, I went straight to him.

*

Eric was adorable.

He could hardly look me in the eyes as we talked. We hit it off, taking our conversation to one of the nearby tables. The colourful lights flashed over his dimpled face as he spun the beer around. His cheeks were crimson, his eyes a little glazed. All the nerves I’d built around this moment eased as I detected his awkwardness.

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