Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC 4)

His hands moved, lower, snaking up my skirt. “You better be ready for me, flower,” he growled. His breath came out in a hiss as he felt just how ready I was.

I felt his movement as he freed himself, pushing my panties to the side.

He didn’t mess around and plunged inside me, one hand on my leg, cocking it up, the other on my collarbone.

This wasn’t gentle, slow, or tender. It was furious, animalistic. Everything I needed at that moment. His strokes brought me closer and closer to my release, his eyes holding my gaze, making this moment more intense. The deep part of me, the one I tried not to listen to, told me this was more than fucking. This was claiming.

I closed my eyes, in an effort to silence that voice, to focus on the imminent explosion. The hand moved from my collarbone to the back of my head. My eyes snapped open.

“You keep looking at me,” Asher ground out, his jaw taut as he continued pounding. “Your beautiful eyes will be looking into mine every second, so you know what this is. What you are. Mine,” he grunted.

With those words came my climax, the unforgettable almost unbearable release that I’d been craving since the moment he left me this morning. He was like a drug, one I was hopelessly addicted to already. My nails bit into the back of Asher’s cut as I rode the wave, as I let it wash over me.

I was breathing heavily when I came down. Asher’s eyes hadn’t moved from mine. He had stopped moving, but he was still hard inside me.

His hands went to my butt, and he lifted me.

I let out a little noise of surprise at the moment, at the way it made my tender skin tingle.

“We’re far from fuckin’ done,” he growled, striding toward my bedroom.

In that moment, I didn’t think of much. In the moments following, I didn’t think of anything but Asher.

A brushing on my jaw woke me up. Then a pounding headache swiftly followed.

“Flower,” a rough voice tickled my ear.

I normally would have welcomed this, but not at the present moment.

“Too loud,” I murmured, not opening my eyes.

I heard a chuckle. “Open your eyes, Lily,” the voice commanded.

I sighed, then complied. I may have been reluctant to welcome the daylight into my brain, but that reluctance melted away with the sight in front of me. Events from last night came rushing in. Asher. In the club. Against my door. In my bed. First, it was the fucking, then it was the slow, glorious lovemaking. Now he was fully dressed, sitting on the edge of my bed, in the crook of my hip, my body facing him. His handsome face was soft and had a dark shadow of stubble maximizing his attractiveness. I gazed into his chocolate eyes, traveled down to his muscled body, his sinewy arms drool worthy underneath his leather cut.

“You’re hot in the morning,” I observed, speaking without thinking. Something I was not known for doing. Every word I spoke was usually carefully considered. Not with Asher it seemed. Everything was different with him. Even I was.

A small grin teased the side of his face. “Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You make it damned near impossible to be angry with you.”

I furrowed my brows. Why would he be angry? That was cause for too much brainpower, not something I was capable of first thing in the morning, especially with a hangover.

He stroked my jaw again. “I wanted to stay. Talk. Fuck you again,” he murmured roughly, and my stomach did dips. “But, I’ve got club shit that needs taking care of,” he continued his mouth turning a grim line. “I’ll be back when it’s done.” He regarded me a moment, something seeming to work behind his eyes. “Doesn’t sit well with me, the fact I’ve not had a proper moment with you, since the night at the strip club, since all that shit went down,” he declared.

I did an inward flinch, and his words woke me up. By “shit” I think he was referring to my mother’s death. Not something that needed to be in my mind right now. I was still running.

He didn’t seem to miss it. “I’ll be back,” he repeated. It wasn’t a question, it was a foregone conclusion that phone calls were a memory and that he was going to be in my life. Like physically. Looking at his physique, I failed to remember why this was a bad thing.

“Okay,” I repeated, nodding.

“Good. You gonna be at home tonight?” Again this seemed more like a command than a question.

I screwed up my nose, the warm feeling of waking up to him dissipating. I sat up slightly, ignoring the sharp pain in my head as I did so. “

“What’s the day?” My voice was husky and so not attractive.