Page 36 of Under Locke & Key

Oh god. His praise flows through me like molten honey, warming my core and even without the water to help his fingers glide over me, my desire would be more than enough.

Thrumming against me, I’m a hairpin trigger away from losing it.

The slow touches, his sinful mouth on my neck—fuck the things those neck kisses make me want to do to him—it’s got me close to the edge already.

I’m ready to fall. Poised on the edge of pleasure. And then he stops. Lathering his hands with soap, he drags the suds over my arms and neck. Over my breasts and stomach.

“What are you doing?” It’s supposed to sound demanding but instead comes out as a whine.

“Keeping my promise. Taking my time. Touching every inch of you. Take your pick.”

“But I was close.” This time it’s definitely a whine and I’m not sorry.

“And you will be again, but we worked hard today and we’re going to wash the day from our bodies. Then, we’ll wander over to your bedroom and I’ll put my mouth on you to push you even higher.”

“You know, I never took you for a tease.”

His hands still on the outside of my thighs. “It’s not teasing when I’m not done yet. And I am so far from done.”

“You know, I don’t know why anyone would think you’re quiet or unassuming. The way you’re talking right now . . .” I taper off, part of me begging him to keep going like this. I trust him enough to let go, to give him free rein and let that hint of his forcefulness take over.

His thumb swipes over my nipple again, pulling a hiss from me at the sensation of smooth water and work-roughened hands.

“I lay the blame at your feet. You make me want to be more confident. More assured. Demanding even. The way you look up at me like you have faith in me and what I’m doing—you have no idea what that does to a person.”

It makes my heart ache in my chest a little to hear it and I wish I could see his face.

Is it open? Vulnerable? Does he look as disheveled as I do?

I wish I could meet whoever it was that made him doubt himself and his worth, because the Bryce that I know is kind and capable, and eager to learn.

And there’s something about that control, that competency, that’s fucking hot to me.

“You’re not the only one affected by whatever this is.

Something about you softens my edges, makes me .

. . vulnerable. I’m not the kind to yield easily, and when I do it’s usually because I have a plan to get things another way.

With you, I’m tired of pushing, of trying so hard to be the image people have of me. With you I just want to be me. Bare.”

I need to see him.

I shift away from him even though the loss of contact is the last thing I want.

Carefully turning to avoid spilling water over the edge, I face Bryce and straddle him.

His hardness is proportional, and that means it’s a little intimidating.

Despite how much I want to, I don’t sink down onto him.

Instead it rests between us and I plant a sweet kiss against his lips.

This time I’m the one that lathers body wash between my palms, touching him wherever I can.

Over the broad shoulders and wide expanse of his chest. His sides that I learn are slightly ticklish, and finally I grasp him in my hand.

Pumping up once, twice. Bryce sucks a breath between his teeth and I can see the veins in his neck straining.

“Clean enough for you?” I ask, cheeky. Knowing that I do this—that my touch has this kind of power—is a heady thing.

“Rachel Mackey, you’re playing a dangerous game. I said I was going to take my time. That won’t happen if you keep doing that.”

I bite my bottom lip to suppress a chuckle and stroke him again, swiping the pad of my thumb over his tip. “Doing this?”

His hips press up beneath me. His large hands are wrapped around the edge of the tub, knuckles white from the strain of holding back.

“Out. Now.” He grits and those golden-flecked eyes flash with something that makes my belly clench in anticipation. It would be easy enough to keep teasing, to push him toward pleasure and stop the way he’d done with me but I want this as much as he does and pretending not to is a waste of time.

Water sluices down my body as I stand. Wrapping a towel around me, I hand Bryce another, and we both make quick work of drying our bodies. This time I’m the one that’s tugging him along, toward my bedroom.

Once the bed is within reach, Bryce wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me close. Our faces are a hairsbreadth apart. His breath is as erratic as mine and I can feel the hammering of his heartbeat against my skin.

“You’re sure?” His eyes plead with me, the desire there barely held back.

“I’m sure.”

Walking me backward, the back of my legs hit the mattress and he urges me down. My curiosity gets the better of me and I lean up on my elbows to look at him. Bryce is on his knees again, something that makes me fucking feral, and his hands spread my thighs.

His stubble scratches the inside of my thighs as he kisses down along them.

The window AC rattles softly on the other side of the room and the cold air, combined with his kisses, sends goosebumps along my skin—my nipples hardening from cold and need.

I’m about to ask, to scoot back and invite him onto the bed with me when his mouth slots over me.

Tongue tracing before he sucks me into his mouth, I mewl.

My muscles tighten as he coaxes me higher again.

My fingers splay through his hair, half dry, and I grip the strands when he spreads me with one finger.

Heat pools in my core, pleasure sending sparks through my body that culminates in a moan when he adds another finger.

Curling them, stroking, he moves his thumb over my clit as he sucks a mark onto my thigh.

I should tell him not to do that, especially when he’s already left a couple on my neck, but I don’t care.

I want him so much. His lips on mine—his touch on my skin—and his mark on me as a testament to the fact that he wants me just as desperately.

Part of me is mad that I’ve waited this long to have him, to let myself have him.

Another is grateful that we had a foundation to build off of because the last few months with him have been a study in patience and longing, and to see it come to fruition after so much waiting makes it so much sweeter.

“I’m getting close,” I say and when Bryce pulls away I want to kick myself for doing so.

“Scoot back.”

Shuffling up the bed toward my pillows, Bryce stalks over me.

His muscles flex beside my head as he holds himself up and I take another moment to enjoy the sight of him.

No pretty and perfectly cut muscles, rather the solid kind of mass that comes with strength over appearance.

Golden brown chest hair dusts across his pecs and narrows down to a strip over his stomach and below.

I was right.

His freckles cover most of his body, little flecks I’ll take the time to kiss if he’ll let me. Bryce’s lips are plump, swollen from the ferocity of our kisses, and the sheen of me on his mouth sends a blush spreading all the way up my body.

Resting on his forearm, his other stretches between our bodies to notch him against me. Rubbing his head up and down, over my clit and through the wetness between my legs, Bryce leans forward. Just enough.

My hands grip his back as he moves, agonizingly slowly, inching in deeper with each shallow thrust. I want him to get it over with. To put me out of my misery because all I want to do is fall apart around him and this tightrope of desire that I’m on has me breathless.

“Please. I’m ready. Please.” I don’t even try to inject humor into it. He was right when he said he’d have me begging.

“You’re ready?” His voice is a dark question against the shell of my ear as he shifts in and out again, stubbornly refusing to sink all the way inside.

I nod frantically against him.

“Since you asked so nicely.” The words don’t have time to permeate the mush that is my mind right now before he surges all the way inside. It’s exquisite. The stretch of him inside me, pleasure with the slightest hint of being near the limit.

He grunts against my ear and I wrap my legs around him. Mouth against my neck again, he thrusts as he kisses. “Fuck.”

The swearing is so unlike him and it brings me incredible pleasure to watch him descend into something baser.

“Your legs wrapped around me. Your moans against my skin. So beautiful.” His voice is husky and makes me ache even more.

He lifts up slightly to look at me, his eyes glazed with desire and I’m sure mine are the same.

Bryce looks down between us, at his pelvis flush against mine, and it elicits another groan. “You take me so well,” he praises.

The words have me fluttering against him and he picks up speed at the sensation.

Gripping my thighs with his big hands, Bryce increases the intensity of his thrusts until the bedframe makes a lewd squeak with every up thrust. Our skin slaps together, my moans and his grunts, and the rattle of cold air so overwhelming I can hardly stand it.

“Do you like this?” Bryce asks and coupled with the ferocity of his movements it sounds darker than a mere question.

“Yes!”

“You like me touching you, hmm?” His hand grips my bouncing breast. “Stretching you?”

His thumb rubs across my overstimulated nipple and I shut my eyes against the pleasure, my neck straining backwards as I arch into him. Rising onto his knees, without breaking the connection between us, Bryce grips my hip with one hand and strums his touch across my clit again.

I’m incoherent by this point. Everything heightened. Sensation and need building toward something explosive and I know I’m close. But I don’t want him to stop. I can’t handle it if he stops again.