Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC 3)

“Even sweeter than I imagined,” he said roughly before his mouth covered me once more.

My hands bunched into the sheets as he ate me like a starving man. It was relentless, brutal, and my climax overtook me with the same intensity. I screamed, and Zane’s mouth covered mine, the taste of me on his lips enough to prolong my ecstasy.

I was barely containing the aftershocks when I felt him at my entrance. His hard body was pressed above mine, although I knew he wasn’t giving me his full weight. His eyes met mine. “You on something?” he asked tightly.

“On?” I repeated dreamily.

“Pill, babe. You on it?” He grunted, sounding like he was holding himself back.

“Yes.”

I barely had the word out of my mouth before he surged into me. I cried out once more as he pounded my sensitive flesh. I circled my legs around him, clenching him closer to me.

“Harder,” I whispered hoarsely.

He grunted and I was lifted as he went to his knees, my legs still circled around him. His hands bit into my ass, the pads of his fingers pressing so hard it bordered on pain. My nails raked his back in response.

“My little wildcat,” he murmured, not stopping his thrusts.

I moaned as I felt myself build again, this angle making him fill me to the brim.

Zane clutched the back of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine. His eyes locked onto mine, his stare never wavering as he pounded into me. “Come again, Wildcat,” he commanded.

As if his words had magical orgasm giving powers, my world shattered for a second time and I saw stars. I vaguely noted his body stiffen as he had his release.

After a beat, he lowered us both down back onto the bed, his body covering mine. He didn’t give me his full weight; I could tell by the way he held himself. One of his hands moved to my face to tenderly brush a wayward strand of hair away. He frowned at the strand as if it had wronged him in some way.

I waited. For the shutters on his eyes to close. For the confusing tenderness to disappear and be replaced by cold indifference, or even straight up hostility. It didn’t come; he merely framed my face, staring at me, not saying a word.

“This is it,” he said finally.

“What?” I asked quietly, still bracing for a verbal blow.

His hand moved to span my hip. I marveled at how large it was compared to me. I wasn’t what you’d call petite in that area, thanks to the fact I had birthed a child. But those hands made me look positively tiny.

“This.” His hand tightened on my hip once more and my eyes moved to meet his. “Is all I can give you, all I am capable of giving you,” he continued. “Nothing more.”

Realization flooded through me at his grunted sentence. Sex. He was talking about sex. That was all this was. I inwardly flinched. I couldn’t say how I felt about the infuriating giant. He was complicated, maddening, and terrifying. I wasn’t even sure if I liked him. But any guy telling you he only wanted you for sex was bound to cause a sting.

“You mean like, friends with benefits type of situation?” I asked slowly.

He regarded me, his face blank. “We’re not friends,” he stated simply.

Ouch. Another verbal blow.

“There is no way I could be your friend. No way I could spend an extended amount of time in your presence without ripping all your clothes off and burying myself in your sweet cunt. I couldn’t have you around me and not be able to touch you.” His hand snaked up to cup my breast. “Taste you,” he continued, his head moving to suck on my nipple.

I shivered as he pulsed, still inside me.

His head lifted. “So this is all I can do. When we’re together, we fuck. That’s it. All we can be. If you want it,” he added. The way he said it, the way he was looking at me, it made me think he wanted me to say no. Tell him to shove it. I wished I could. Not for me but for womankind everywhere. But I think womankind might forgive me once they got a look at his body. And his dick.

“Okay,” I whispered back to him, meeting his eyes.

If I was honest with myself, I didn’t know if I could handle anything more than this. If I could give anything more. I feared I was broken. Pieces of me smashed when I was young and hopeful, wide open to the prospect of love. And I thought those pieces may always lie broken within me, beneath sarcasm and inappropriate humor. I thought the only person I was truly capable of opening my heart to was my daughter. No man could ever get in there. Not again.

So maybe I could get down with this arrangement.

Zane had been watching me during this moment, his eyes glued to my face. His thumb, feather light, traced down from my temple to my jaw. It was as if in that moment he saw me, saw the broken pieces. And I think it was because he was broken too.

Then his hand circled at my neck, his eyes darkening. “Gonna fuck you even harder this time, Wildcat,” he declared hoarsely, surging into me.

The moment was gone, replaced with our mutual passion, desperation to cling to whatever our broken souls let us have.

“Mom?” a sleepy voice asked in confusion.

I glanced over to see Lexie emerging from the hallway, still half grasped by sleep. She always yanked herself out of bed before she was properly awake, and she would spend the first part of her morning as an adorable sleep-rumpled zombie. When she was younger, I would love it. She would come and cuddle close to me until the last of her dreams left her. She’d also say weird things like “There’s peanuts in the toaster,” which gave me endless hours of amusement. Then she started to grow up and I introduced her to the magical powers of caffeine. So I no longer got my Lexie cuddles. Right now she was looking at me like I was insane.