Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)

The door opened and Zane seemed to jerk in surprise to see me in it. Luckily, he was fully clothed this time. How it was he answered the door fully clothed in the middle of the night and half naked in broad daylight I had no idea. I barely registered that he was holding a gun at his side, which normally would have been a big fucking deal.

“You are a dick,” I spat at him. Manners be gone. Obviously reason was long gone also, considering I was insulting an armed man. “You cannot treat me,” I paused, “no, strike that…you cannot treat any woman the way you treated me,” I hissed. “You don’t like me for some unknown reason. Fine. Your loss. But I’ll have you know most people like me. I’m likable. I’m nice. But you don’t think so? Whatever—that’s your prerogative.” I pointed at him again. “If you don’t like me, send all the death glares you like. I’ll learn to get used to them.” Total lie, but I was on a roll. “Speak to me in grunts…actually, don’t speak to me at all. I’m not bothered.” Another lie. “But, do not, after doing all of these things, drag me into your house, have sex with me,” I stopped, breathing heavily before continuing, “and treat me like a whore.” I hissed at him again. “Who do you think you are? Do you think some air of menace, the vest you wear and some good bone structure gives you the excuse to--”

I didn’t get the chance to finish my rant because of the hand that fastened around my neck and yanked me against a hard body. Before I knew it Zane’s mouth was plastered to mine. And, because he had caught me mid-sentence, his tongue had prime access to mine. He managed to get me inside and slam the door behind me without his mouth leaving mine. With the slam of the door though, came the surging of coherent thought.

I pushed back against him violently, and although I think my strength was nothing to match his, he let me go. I lifted my hand and slapped his cheek, my palm stinging at the impact.

We stared at each other, breathing heavily.

I glanced at my hand like it was some alien part of me. I had never slapped anyone in my life. Not even the person that had treated me to the same violence I had just unleashed. I glanced back up at Zane, whose eyes were locked on me. They seemed to be dancing with something; his entire frame was locked still.

And then, for some insane reason, I pounced. I latched onto his mouth once more, like a junkie looking for a hit. My legs circled his hips and rough hands gripped my ass to lift me against him. I moaned as my nightie rode up, leaving my panties as the only barrier between me and his jean-clad cock.

One hand went to my ass, the other delved into my hair, pressing me to his mouth. I struggled to shrug off the flannel I was wearing as he carried us through the house. I didn’t care where we were going as long as we would be horizontal.

We suddenly stopped. Zane grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. It was rough, but not painful.

He searched my face, his eyes glittering. “You are not a whore. Do not ever refer to yourself as one again, or I’ll tan your ass,” he growled.

I didn’t have time to respond because he threw me onto a bed. Yes, threw. Like bodily. It was a soft landing, obviously, and the view was fricking bomb. Zane had pulled his tee off and was unbuckling his jeans. Before I knew it he was standing before me, gloriously naked, the colors of his ink rippling over his muscled body. Unfortunately, I barely had time for a mental snapshot, let alone to commission an oil painting.

His hands pushed my silk nightie up to my waist, his face burying itself between my legs. I felt him tenderly kiss me atop my panties, which was a stark contrast to the ferocious way he had kissed me earlier. His hands moved and yanked my panties down, and suddenly he was there. My whole body tightened at the shaft of pleasure that erupted with his mouth on me.

“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.

Anne Malcom's books