Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC 6)

My worship.

Gage’s lips landed on the spot just below were the metal was biting into my skin.

Then he was gone. I heard his boots, circling me. I traced his movements with my ears until he was standing at my feet. My nipples throbbed, my entire body aching with need. I was almost coming out of my skin with desperation for his touch.

But I wasn’t going to move without his permission. He had snatched my power away. I was at the mercy of his cruelty.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

My breath hitched with what I imagined him seeing if I did so. Him, standing, fully clothed. Me, naked, blindfolded, and cuffed on the floor below him.

“You want me to make you?” His whisper carried over the air, caressing and abusing me with its threat.

I spread my legs slowly, exposing myself to him.

He let out a harsh hiss.

There was a long silence. One I spent inside my protective darkness. It should’ve terrified me more, but it didn’t. It gave me permission to give in to Gage’s commands, to my own desires, using only instinct, without barriers. Without reality surrounding me.

Gage knelt between my spread legs, his fingers spreading my sensitive skin so I was completely and utterly exposed to him.

My back arched violently with the touch, my climax threatening to explode through me. Gage’s hand against my stomach pressed me down gently.

“Your cunt is beautiful, Lauren,” he murmured, his fingers probing, exploring, worshiping.

My breath was strangled with his words, with his touch.

His hands left me and I wanted to scream with my desperation.

His fingertip traced my curls, the small strip my waxer always left despite the trend to take everything off.

“Beautiful,” he repeated.

Then his finger moved up, over my hip bone, the side of my body, circling my breast with a gentleness that was in direct conflict with everything else. With Gage himself. The touch was reverent.

Then his mouth followed the journey of his finger, first pressing a slow and gentle kiss to the hair covering my pussy before he inhaled deeply and audibly.

My stomach dipped and flames crept up my neck.

He was smelling me. There. It was wrong. Dirty. And it caused wetness to flush between my legs.

He growled. “Can fucking smell you getting turned on by this, Will. You’re a devil too, disguised as an angel.”

The vibration of his words traveled to my clit, jerking my body with bouts of pleasure.

My hands became claws, straining against the metal of the cuffs.

Then, just as I was convinced I needed Gage’s mouth on me more than I needed my next breath, it was gone.

I exhaled with a violent pain I didn’t know was possible without actual injury. He was hurting me, causing pain by depriving me of pleasure.

His mouth moved slowly, torturously against my hips, my navel, up to the underside of my breast. Finally his lips circled my nipple and he sucked at it, causing me to cry out, my thighs clenching to the point of pain. His teeth grazed my nipple so sharp pain mingled with pleasure.

And just as I thought he was going to make me come, it was gone.

I let out a hiss between my teeth.

His hand circled my neck, then moved up to cup my cheek as he pressed me against the floor. “Oh, don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna make you come,” he murmured against my mouth. “I’m gonna make you scream. Just needed to make sure you know you’re at my mercy. And I don’t have fucking mercy.”

And then he kissed me.

But it wasn’t brutal and hard like I expected.

I didn’t know anything else, because brutal and hard was all I had experienced from Gage. It was all I knew.

But he was showing me something else. Someone else.

He moved leisurely, slowly, cupping my face like it might shatter if he gripped it too tight. My heart crashed against my chest as the slow and gentle kiss didn’t do anything to slow it. No, it only made it more frantic.

His mouth left mine.

“Gonna eat your cunt now, Lauren,” he murmured, voice less than a whisper, the crude words working to raise it to a yell.

I couldn’t speak.

But he didn’t need me to.

He moved down my body.

And then I could speak.

And then I screamed.

Gage made good on his promise.

He made me come. Again. And again. He tortured me with pleasure until my body was little more than liquid, my arms screaming from the angle they were forced to keep, my wrists burning with evidence of me trying to escape the cuffs.

But Gage didn’t show mercy.

He only showed more.

And I wasn’t sure if I could take more. But I wanted it.

I needed it.

He had taken off his clothes.

I wasn’t quite sure when that happened, but he was now naked, lying atop me, his skin bruising mine, pressing into me.

I needed him inside. Even though it would ruin me, I needed it.