Love Locked (3 page)

“Mmmm …” She grabs his bag. “Let’s get a taxi.”

***

They’re back in the pub, sitting at the next table over from where she sat with Lucas. Sam’s carry–on bag is on the floor, tucked against the wall.

The waitress comes by — eye candy for Sam instead of for her tonight. Jocelyn looks at the waitress, looks at Sam, raises an eyebrow and asks, “Share a pitcher?”

He straightens in his seat. “Whoa, I said I’d come for a drink. Not for the night.”

Jocelyn tuts. “It’s not for the night. It’s two pints each.” The waitress is pretty and Sam’s checking her out. “Since when did you become such a lightweight?”

Jocelyn knew that would work. Sam’s competitiveness is one of the things that helped get them together, when he ran a Valentine’s 10K with a broken elbow, just to show her he could. It was also one of the last straws in their breakup when she waited two hours for him to pick her up from the hospital, after a severe allergic reaction, because he wouldn’t leave a poker game he was losing.

“Fine.” Sam nods at the waitress. “A pitcher.” Then turns back to Jocelyn. “But that’s it. I want to be home by nine.”

At 9:15, Jocelyn has a nice buzz going. “This is where I was when you kept texting to ask if I was horny,” she says.

“Oh yeah? I was going to ask why this place. You don’t usually come here.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well, I don’t usually …”

“Usually what?”

Good question. How best to describe this thing with Lucas? ‘Don’t usually end up with wet underwear just thinking about not–very–tall, cute–but–not–knock–em–out–handsome guys who already have girlfriends?’ ‘Don’t usually stay up half the night fantasizing about a guy she hasn’t even touched?’ ‘Don’t usually enjoy being in a position of complete frustration and almost–certain failure?’

She leans forward so her breasts rest on the table. Waits for Sam to look at them. Once he does, she says. “I’m horny again.”

“Come again?”

“I’d love to.”

He lifts his gaze to her eyes now. “Seriously, Jocelyn. I thought we didn’t do this anymore.”

“Rules are made to be broken.”

“I’m kind of seeing someone.”

Without breaking his eye contact, she undoes the top button of her blouse. “How ‘kind of?’”

He shifts in his seat. “My parents …”

She notches her finger into the V of her shirt, adjusts it downward so the edges of her black bra peek out. “Call them. They’re probably just about to go to bed anyway. Like we should be …”

“Jocelyn …”

“Your mom loves me. She’d kill you if she knew you went home when you could hang out with me.”

“And by ‘hang out’ you mean …?”

“I mean start with sucking your cock, and let’s go from there.”

He groans. “Jesus, Jocelyn. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She bends for his bag.

“Oh no.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to need to carry that in front of me to get out of here with my dignity intact.”

She licks her lips. “I don’t give a shit about your dignity. I just want what you’re hiding behind that bag.”

“Go!” he says. “Now!”

***

It’s like coming home, being with Sam again. All this is familiar. The mounting anticipation. Throwing too much money at the cab driver. Sam sliding his hands up under her skirt, tugging at her underwear as they climb the stairs to her third–floor walk–up. Tumbling through the front door, their combined body weight slamming it closed behind them.

There’s little time for cock–sucking. Just a bit, quickly, as she tugs his pants down, licks the glistening bead of precum from the end. “Mmmm …”

He reaches an arm around her waist, scoops her onto the bed. “Can’t. Wait.”

He slides in from behind, and the depth he reaches makes her whimper. She gathers folds of sheets into each hand, squeezing, her cheek pushed against the mattress. “Oh! Yeah. Deep!”

It’s such a relief. Quick. Hard. Athletic. He flips her over and she giggles as he fumbles then sinks right back in. “Ooooh … that’s nice.”

It is nice. For a while. For quite a while. And then it starts to get sore.

“Sam?”

“Uh?”

“Sam. Tell me you didn’t do it again.”

He meets her eyes for a second. Grins. “About four minutes ago.”

“You asshole. We agreed you weren’t allowed to do that anymore.”

He closes his eyes, takes a long, slow thrust. “Rules were made to be broken … am I right?”

“It’s not fun.”

“It is for me.”

Her own fault for telling him, the first time he came inside her, and kept going until he came again, that she’d never been with anyone who could do that. His competitive spark was lit and it became a game. She started calling him the “stealth cummer” because he was quick and quiet so she wouldn’t catch on when he came the first time. It meant their sessions kept going for ridiculous lengths of time. Too long, as far as she was concerned.

Too long now.

I hope Lucas can’t come twice in a row
. A ridiculous thought to have, under normal circumstances, but right now she no longer has any feeling in her vagina, and too much feeling elsewhere, with muscles starting to cramp all down her legs and into her feet.

“Don’t wreck this for me, babe,” Sam pleads. “I love this. I could do it forever. And getting to look at your awesome tits makes it even better.”

“Oh, come on …”

“Listen, whoever had you so horny that night I texted you — think of him.”

There’s a thought
. “If you insist …”

“Mmmm, see; you’re already getting more into it.”

And she is. There’s a new tightness in her core. Butterflies in her stomach, and tingles all through her pelvis. She slips her hand between their working bodies and adds a layer of pressure; pushing into the tight space — sending a spurt of sensation through her.

“Nice!” Sam gasps.

Lucas, Lucas, Lucas
. He’d be heavier on her; more solid. She’d wrap her legs around his waist, just to see how deep that would drop him. He’s almost her height; his face would be even with hers. They’d kiss while they rocked together and … “Oh!”

“Yeah?” Sam asks.

“Yeah! I’m … oh … I’m nearly … I’m there!”

The orgasm shoots through her, curling her body up and tight to Sam’s, as he arches his shoulders high, and back, and yells, “Yes!”

They ride it out together. Sam’s always been good at that — at not giving up too soon — at letting the aftershocks spasm through her; clenching and releasing against his softening cock.

Finally he dips his face, kisses her cheek. “You’re a good sport.”

She smiles, touches his forehead. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“But what I really want to know …”

“Yeah?”

“Is who the hell is this guy you’ve been thinking of to make you come like that?”

Chapter Four

(10:10)

S
HE HAS TO SWOOP
to grab her phone before it vibrates right off the end of the kitchen table. Sam’s name is at the top of the screen
Run?

I thought you said you didn’t need to work out all weekend after last night?

Last night got me worked up. If I don’t run, we’ll need to do that again. So, run?

She shifts in her chair, trying to ease away the soreness from last night’s marathon sex session. She can’t do that again today.
Buy me brunch after?

If you can keep up.

Oh good, I’m hungry. Bring your credit card.

Jocelyn’s glad Sam’s text caught her before she ate breakfast. He hasn’t planned a short run. Or an easy pace. She’ll definitely be starving when they’re done.

It’s still early in the season, and still early in the day — so not that hot, yet — but keeping up with Sam’s blistering pace has her ribs heaving, and her skin slick with sweat by the time they slow to a walk on the path near the turn–off to her apartment. Near where she locked her bike to Lucas’s …

Oh, God. It’s happened to her before — a couple of times — she’s had an orgasm just from sheer physical exertion. Sam’s pushed her almost that far already and now, thinking of Lucas … as she stretches her hamstrings, the movement tugs her underwear, which suddenly feels very ticklish against her swelling clit.

“Where are you?” Sam’s snapping fingers near her face. “Earth to Jocelyn.” He leans in and takes a deep sniff around her neck — hair sticking to her wet skin. “Mmmm …”

“Don’t be disgusting Sam. I stink.”

“You stink like sweat and … something else … something that, actually, is making me think we’re both going to need showers before going out for brunch, aren’t we?” He raises his eyebrows when he says “showers.”

She hesitates. It’s true she and Sam called off having sex a while ago. OK, it’s true
she
called it off. She had a minor crush on a guy from work and her mind did the whole, ‘What if he asks me out Monday morning, and he finds out I was shagging Sam all Sunday afternoon? What if we get married? He’ll hate Sam, and we’ll have to stop being friends …’

“It’s better for both of us,” she’d told Sam, and even though he’d disagreed at first, they’d kept a bit of physical distance between themselves when he visited and it had been OK. Until this trip. Until Lucas got her revved up, needing sex, and Sam was there.

So, a shower with Sam?
We shouldn’t
, battles in her mind with
We already have — this weekend, anyway — we might as well finish it off
.

She glances at her watch as though knowing the time will make her decision easier. 10:10 a.m. That number thing again — so weird.

Before she can work her decision all the way through, a familiar form runs around the corner. Familiar because, following the old cliché pick–up line, he’s been running through her head all night, every night, for quite a while now.

Lucas.

Shit. Yay.
Which is it? She doesn’t know.

She also doesn’t know if she wants Sam nearby, hovering, sniffing her like a dog in heat, or if she wants him far away where nobody — Lucas — can make a connection between them.

What’s better? What works to her advantage? Does she want to come across as taken, as highly desirable? Or should she be more highly available?

As if she’s going to get to decide. Sam will do what Sam will do and she’s just going to have to live with it.

Lucas isn’t slowing down anyway. Maybe he won’t recognize her. Maybe he will, and pretend he doesn’t. Maybe … “Hey.” He slows. Stops. He’s sweaty, too, although maybe not quite as drenched as she is.

“Oh, hey.” Oh wow. He is much,
much
hotter than she remembered. His legs are so strong. She wants to touch them. Wants to be in a position, possibly under him, where she’d be reaching up and grabbing onto them, and pulling his crotch tight to her face …

The leg supporting her quad stretch wobbles, and she lowers her raised foot to solid ground.

She cannot be natural. Can’t think what to say. Finally she points at the sign where it all started. “I’m behaving today.”

“What?”

Stupid Jocelyn. Ridiculous
. She holds her empty hands out. “No bike? No lock? Not locking some random stranger’s bike up …”

“Oh. That. Listen. I’ve been thinking …”

“What?” Sam’s left the tree he was stretching against. “What’s up over here?” He suddenly seems ridiculously tall and unnecessarily good–looking. Like a mannequin or a cardboard cut–out — except neither of them would talk.

Breathe, Jocelyn
. “Lucas, I’d like you to meet Sam. Sam’s a very old friend of mine; he’s just home for the weekend. And Sam, I met Lucas when I mistakenly locked his bike up using my lock and made him late for an important meeting.”

Sam grins. “Wow Joss, I knew you were desperate to meet men, but that’s taking it a bit far.”

She grits her teeth. “Thanks, Sam.”

Maybe her cheeks are already too exercise–flushed to show any more red, because Lucas doesn’t react. He runs a hand through his hair, and both Jocelyn’s knees give, because she’d love to get her fingers in his hair and, short as it is, grip any of it she can, and … but Lucas is speaking. “I’m afraid you caught me in a bad mood that day. I was pretty unreasonable. I should never have let you pay for everything at the pub. I’ve been feeling quite badly about it.”

“Pub?” Sam’s eyes are popped wide open. “Was it by any chance that big one up on the main street with the huge patio and the yellow umbrellas?” He pulls his foot away just as Jocelyn stomps where his toes were.

Lucas furrows his brow. “Uh, yeah, that’s the one … anyway, Jocelyn, I feel like I owe you …”

“Excellent!” Sam says. “Jocelyn does let herself be taken advantage of sometimes, don’t you Joss?”

Jocelyn tries to ignore Sam. “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything. Please don’t worry.”

“There she goes again,” Sam says. “Too nice for her own good. Since she won’t stand up for herself, why don’t I give you her cell number and you guys can sort this out later?”

Jocelyn’s torn between hating Sam and loving him.

“I, uh, I didn’t bring my phone,” Lucas says.

“That’s fine. I have mine.” Sam pulls it out of his running armband. “Give me your number and I’ll text Jocelyn’s to you.”

Jocelyn gives up. There’s no point trying to figure out if this is wonderful, or terrible. Sam’s taken over, and resistance is futile. Lucas seems to have accepted it — later he’ll probably wonder why he gave some strange guy his number on a running path, but right now he’s obediently reciting digits while Sam punches them in. “Great!” Sam grins. “All done. You can get in touch with her later.”

He puts his arm around Jocelyn’s shoulders. “But right now this girl and I need a shower, so nice meeting you.”

“Showers,” Jocelyn says.

“What?” Both Sam and Lucas say it at the same time.

“Nothing. I was just saying ‘shower
s
.’ Like, plural. Like, he needs a shower, and so do I …” They’re both staring at her. She’s making this much worse. Maybe nobody was thinking about who might be showering with whom until she made a big deal of it. “Forget I said anything. Sorry.”