Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

“You’re testing my willpower, Amy,” he grunted, rubbing me in delightful circles.

My eyes glazed over as he brought me close to the edge, his other hand grasped my neck, pulling me to face him.

“I want to watch you come,” he declared, eyes bright.

I was about to treat him to the Abrams orgasm show when something broke the moment. “Sexy Bitch” blared from the flimsy material of my Gucci.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

I tried to scramble off him, the reminder of what I was doing like a bucket of ice water. Hands gripped my waist, keeping me in place. I frowned at them before reaching for my bag to answer my phone.

“Hey Gwennie.” I watched Ian stiffen slightly. Good, we both needed to calm this shit.

“Hey Abrams, where are you guys? I got home and I figured you would have ditched that snoozefest by now. Don’t tell me you’ve dragged Ian out clubbing, he hates that crap. Actually I could use a drink or ten. I can meet you?” Gwen greeted with her usual speech.

“Um, we’re actually on our way home.” I squirmed, uncomfortable having this conversation in Ian’s lap. I felt like I was betraying Gwen somehow.

“Okay, no worries. I’d rather put on sweats and get drunk off homemade cocktails. I’ll start making them now. See you soon, bitch!” She hung up before I could say another word.

I stared at the silent phone, willing someone, anyone to call to rescue me from this situation that turned awkward with the sound of one song. Even my mother or Craig, the stage five clinger who I was trying to shake. I’d welcome Craig right now. But alas, crazy stalkers never called when you wanted them to.

I was forced to face the music when Ian grasped my chin and gently directed my gaze to him.

“Gwen’s at home. Making cocktails as we speak,” I whispered.

He smirked. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

I paused. “She can’t know about this.” I gestured between us. “This can’t happen again.” It pained me to even say it; feeling in Ian’s arms felt so right. Ew, did I seriously just think that? I hated girls who said cheesy shit like that. I wanted to tit punch girls that said shit like that.

“I agree Gwen probably shouldn’t know I pashed her best friend within hours of arriving,” he grinned.

“What does pashed mean?” I asked, wondering if it was New Zealand slang for some sort of sexual wizardry.

“It means I’ve tasted how sweet your mouth is, felt how amazing your body feels and it means I want to taste all of you. Feel what it’s like to slide inside you.”

Holy fuck. What does one say to that? Especially when one is feeling the impressive length of what could mean multiple orgasms if this guy’s kiss was anything to go by.

“I’m going to be straight up here. This is complicated. You aren’t just a fuck for me, I can tell you that already. You’re more. But I can’t give you more. I’m here for two weeks and then I’m gone. I won’t be back for another year. My job is dangerous. Who knows if I will come back?” I tensed at the thought of Ian getting hurt. I tensed even more when I realized how deeply this thought affected me. He brushed my cheek. “All of that means I should be keeping my distance, not complicating things, not putting you through this. That’s what I should be doing. But if my job’s taught me anything it’s to make the most of every day, every second. Even if it’s for one night I want the memory of your face, your body to think of when I’m in the next hellhole.” His fingertips grazed the edge of my panties. “It may be selfish as fuck but I want to remember how tight your pussy is whenever I look at you, know what it feels to have you pulse around my finger. I want you, all of you,” he murmured.

I exhaled. Wow. I wanted all of that. Hell, after that speech I’d offer to carry his firstborn child and to sell my entire Loubie collection if that’s what he wanted.

So after that night that’s what we did. We made the most of every moment, and against my wishes I fell head over red-soled heels in love with him.

We attempted the long distance thing. We tried to keep it casual, to keep it a secret from Gwen, with stolen moments and late night rendezvous. But it wasn’t casual. It couldn’t be. Not with us. I was prepared to wait. To try. But Ian had something else in mind. Namely yanking my heart out of my chest and stomping on it.

CHAPTER TWO

A presence violating my personal bubble shook me out of my trip down memory lane. It was probably a good thing too; that was a dangerous place for me to venture. I was tempted to thank the space invader but stopped short as my eyes met his. His blue eyes were full of menace and danger, not the good kind.

“Pretty lady like you shouldn’t be drinking alone. Next one’s one me,” he drawled.

I waved my tequila bottle at him unsteadily, “No thanks, I’m set.”

I turned my back to him, hoping that sent the message, but at my other side was an equally sinister looking man, eyeing me with that same stare. I was used to attention from men, but this stare was not sexual in any way. It was predatory and cold.

I regarded them both as well as I could after half a bottle of tequila. It was safe to say they were blurry. Both were wearing seriously expensive suits, the kind that cost as much as a second-hand car. Ditto for the gold jewelry.

I may have been halfway to blotto, but I’d have to be unconscious not to register fashion and accessories. One was young and not unattractive, with dark hair and dark features, slim and about my age. The other was older and balding; no matter how good the tailoring was you couldn’t hide the paunch hanging over his belt. They had money. They were not at home in a place like this. I didn’t get good vibes as to why they were here talking to me.