Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(27)

He seized my head and his mouth crashed onto mine, plundering it, mercilessly f*cking my mouth with his tongue. I ground against his hard on with a moan, the friction nearly causing me to burst into flames right there. His hand went to my ass to press me harder against him while his other tweaked my nipple through my shirt. I kid you not…I almost screamed.

Not many times in my life did I ever regret an outfit choice, but right now I cursed myself for wearing leather shorts. All I wanted right now was a dress so Brock could slip my panties aside and f*ck me on his bike. Brock must have come to the same conclusion about the lack of easy access because he stood us up and dismounted.

“Next time I’m f*cking you on the bike,” he declared roughly.

He didn’t move his mouth from mine as he carried us inside, me grinding on him impatiently. It seemed like it took him hours to get to his bedroom.

He threw me on his bed roughly and leaned over to yank off my shorts.

I hurried with the clasp of my top, opening it to reveal my braless chest.

Brock let out a hiss. His eyes devoured me. “Jesus Christ, baby, you’re even better than I imagined. Your tits are f*ckin’ perfect.” His eyes moved to my heels. “They’re staying on. I’ve visualized f*cking you with those things on all night,” he declared.

He covered my naked body with his, still fully clothed. I struggled to pull off his cut as he kissed me again, moving down my neck. “You need to get naked, like now,” I ordered.

He glanced up from between my breasts, hands cupping them roughly. I moaned. “No, Sparky, first I’m going to taste both your nipples, then taste your cunt until you come. I want your orgasm on my tongue while I f*ck you,” he growled.

My aforementioned ladybits did a whirl. “As you were,” I said quietly.

His eyes turned dark as his mouth closed around my nipple. He wasn’t gentle. Nor was he tender. But the pain was even better. I almost came from just his mouth on my nipple. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as he thrust a finger inside me. He growled. “Fuckin soppin’—that’s my girl.”

Again his fingers weren’t gentle as they plunged into me; they were brutal and f*cking amazing. When his mouth settled between my legs I struggled not so scream. With all of the pent up frustration and the fact he was seriously good with his tongue it felt like I came in less than a minute.

I think I went temporarily blind, or at least blacked out because the next thing I knew Brock was naked and lifting me to turn my back to him. He latched my hands onto his wrought iron headboard. “Don’t move these hands, Sparky,” he ordered hoarsely.

I vaguely nodded and he kissed me fiercely, pushing himself into me, his body plastered to my back. He was big and it had been awhile, so it was intense at first, especially at this angle. I had expected him to thrust into me hard and fast but he pushed in slowly until he filled me to the hilt. He moved his body off mine and grasped my hips roughly.

“You ready for this, Sparky?” he asked.

“Fuck yes,” I replied.

He was hard, brutal, unyielding. It was magnificent. I held onto the headboard for dear life as he pounded into me. I could feel another orgasm building and he gripped my neck lightly, making me arch my back and give him more leverage to go deeper. The different angle set me over the edge and everything exploded. My orgasm didn’t cause him to pause, nor did he slow down. He kept pounding into my sensitive skin, the feeling bordering between pleasure and pain. His fingertips bit into my hips so hard I was sure they’d leave a mark. I wanted a mark. I wanted evidence of where his hands had been. Suddenly they tightened and his body went taut as he had his own climax.

We both stayed like that, breathing heavily, coming down. He pulled my body up so I let go of the headboard, my back was to his front and I was on my knees.

“That defied my f*ckin’ expectations, baby, and knowing you, looking at you, I expected a f*ck of a lot,” he murmured in my ear.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I replied huskily, still floating back down to earth.

His hands tightened around me and I felt him harden inside me.

“Oh, we’re far from f*ckin’ done, babe,” he growled.





“I think I have literally had my brains f*cked out,” I declared, lying back after about the millionth orgasm I’d had this weekend.

Brock chuckled. “I hope I’ve at least f*cked some of the sass outta you, babe. Increases my chances for a repeat performance,” he replied, tucking me into his shoulder.

“How can you have a repeat performance in the next decade? I think we’ve emptied you,” I said.

I just let myself relax, his strong tattooed arms surrounding me. We had pretty much had a sex marathon, not leaving his bed except to get sustenance. It was late on Sunday morning, or maybe afternoon. I wasn’t aware of time passing. I was in a sex vortex. Nothing happened outside of it.

We hadn’t spoken much during the sexfest apart from the obligatory ‘harder’ and ‘faster’. You know the drill. It was good. I didn’t want to keep comparing things to Ian, but he was a shadow in the corner of my mind that didn’t seem to go away. In fact, the other two dalliances I had since him I thought about Ian during sex, even tried to pretend it was him. But not with Brock. It was him the whole time. He ravaged me, mind and body, which was why I was glad he didn’t try for the heart to hearts in our little breaks. With those came feelings. I needed those like I needed to be shot in the face.