Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC 6)

Later.

But there was no time for that shit now.

“Gage,” she whispered, her words only slightly more than an exhale.

His eyes darted to hers, which seemed to be glowing, her lashes hooding the pure fucking sex in her gaze. Underneath those glasses.

Fuck.

Yeah, she was gonna handle being broken.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, unable to hear that voice and look at that face without exploding in his pants.

He’d never done that shit before.

Lauren was already creating a lot of nevers for him, but that sure as shit wasn’t going to be one of them. Lotta people would’ve considered the shit he did to women as disrespectful, depraved. And it fuckin’ was. But the bitches always got off before he did. He considered it disrespectful and depraved to rob a woman of an orgasm and whatever remained of her innocence when he fucked her.

His cock twitched as Lauren blinked rapidly, her mouth snapping shut, complying with his order. The hand at her chest rose and fell rapidly with her frenzied breaths, her body writhing underneath him, her fucking nipples pressing through even that thick and ridiculous fabric encasing them.

His palm moved before he realized it, buttons flying around them as he ripped the fabric apart, exposing her perfect tits. He let out a hiss between his teeth at the sight of them. Pink, hard nipples, begging to be put between his teeth. Full tits that would fit inside his hand perfectly. That needed his fucking marks pressed into them.

And she would be marked on the outside.

But right then getting inside was all that mattered.

And not just inside her pussy.

“Stay the fuck down,” he commanded as she watched him with that hooded gaze.

Again she did what he said.

Again he felt it in his fuckin’ cock.

He gripped the waistband of her pants and yanked, ripping the fabric right down the middle and exposing her bare cunt to him.

No panties.

A square of hair neatly covering her clit.

His cock pulsed again. He wasn’t fussy with pussy, but he preferred hair. Fucking loved it, in fact. Not a lot, but exactly what Lauren had. A porn star strip. His quiet little librarian had a fucking porn star strip.

His fingers delved into it. There was no choice in that.

Her back arched up and she let out a low cry when he made contact, when he covered himself with her.

Soaking.

She was fucking soaking.

He lost it then. Well and truly. He yanked at his belt as he moved to cover her body with his, clutching her neck painfully to bring her eyes to meet his. She gasped when he freed himself from his pants to press his cock against her entrance.

It was pure pain to stay there, to feel her heat beckoning him, to be at the gates of Heaven and fuckin’ pause.

But he did.

Because he was a man who was resigned to the fact that he was in Hell. That Heaven would always be lost to him. He’d never wanted it anyway. Saints only showed him what kind of a sinner he was. The worst kind. He didn’t want that shit. Didn’t need anyone or anything reminding him of how blackened and charred his soul really was.

Not until right then.

He’d never craved Heaven more.

So he let that moment sink into his bones. Lauren’s soft and wild gaze against his skin. Her hot and naked body writhing against his hard and scarred flesh. The blood from his sins smearing against her pale skin.

And then he surged inside.

She cried out the second he did so, her scream echoing off the walls of the apartment. Off the walls of his skull.

He wasn’t worried about her not being ready. She was fucking ready. Fuck, he’d bet that she’d been ready since the moment she’d pressed her lips against his.

But she was tight. And he was big. So he took everything he had to pause once he was clenched in her tight heat. Once he was in fucking Heaven.

“Babe,” he gritted out, his voice feral.

Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut, opened. He didn’t see the pain he expected. No, he saw insanity, the wild need pulsating through his blood.

“Move,” she pleaded, her voice raw.

And he obliged, setting forth to pillage Heaven for his own depraved desires.

Lauren

Was it possible to overdose on a person?

On orgasms?

Because I was pretty sure it was, and I was pretty sure that’s what had happened when Gage started fucking me on the floor of my apartment.

And I wasn’t a girl who ‘fucked.’ Or even used the word to describe the act.

But what we had done for who knew how long, down on the floor, had been fucking. Rough. Hard. Brutal.

And utterly freaking amazing.

Beyond amazing.

I didn’t have words.

And I was going to be one of those cliché girls again, but it was life-changing. Something that shook me to my very foundation, yanked parts of me awake that had been banished to sleep lest they do something reckless. Dangerous.