Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)(39)

I ignored that too. Or tried to.

“Here,” I thrust my envelope at his chest, as he had risen to meet me.

His grease-stained hands grasped the white envelope on reflex.

“What’s this?” he grunted—yes, grunted at me.

“It’s a check,” I snapped at him. “For my car.”

I had done some Googling on how much the repairs on my car would be. I didn’t exactly know what they did to it, considering I kind of glazed over when Lucky explained it. It was a lot of guesswork. After inwardly flinching at my results, I bit the bullet and wrote the check. It would be a hit, but Lexie would still get her superfood crap and I would have to kiss designer shoes goodbye for a long time. Even second hand.

Zane’s face darkened. He held the envelope back to me. “Not f*ckin’ takin’ this, Mia,” he bit out.

I crossed my arms and stepped back. “Um, I think you f*ckin’ are, Zane,” I shot back, mimicking his tone. “This,” I gestured between us, “does not constitute payment for a car,” I hissed.

Zane’s figure went solid and he regarded me darkly. Silence descended and I swallowed at the tension in the air. “You did not just say what I think you said,” he said quietly, dangerously.

I refused to back down. “I am not a whore, Zane. Regardless of how things are between us, outside the bedroom you do not treat me like one,” I told him, trying not to yell. And also maybe trying not to cry.

I was mighty glad that no one was around to witness this, but I still felt exposed standing in the garage in view of the parking lot, not just physically, but emotionally.

Then everything passed in a blur. Zane grabbed me, dragging me deeper inside the bay, past the car to a tool bench, pressing my belly to it.

“What are you doing?” I hissed through my desire. “Anyone could just walk in here,” I continued. He may have pulled me out of view of the parking lot, but the doors were still open. Any old biker could just waltz on up.

I felt him move to touch something above his head and the sound of a garage door closing made me jump slightly.

“You think I would let anyone see that face when my cock’s inside you?” His breath tickled the back of my neck.

I started breathing heavily, every inch of me going wired.

We stayed still, me pressed against the bench, Zane’s hard body pressed into me, until the sunlight left with the groan of a garage door. Darkness descended in the garage. That’s the only time we did this. In the shadows.

“Made myself clear on what would happen if you said that shit again, Mia,” Zane growled in my ear.

My legs tingled as I remembered something about ”tanning my ass.” I swallowed. I was finding it mighty hard to be mad at him when he was turning me on.

“You need to let me go, Zane,” I choked out, not sounding at all convincing.

I was not into having sex in semi-public places, namely friggin’ commercial premises connected to a biker compound. My libido didn’t seem too worried, though.

“Yeah, Mia, I do,” he murmured, his hand skimming my hips and moving up to lightly circle my neck. “But I’m not going to,” he finished, his voice rough.

The hand at my neck exerted pressure, pushing me down so my cheek landed on the rough wood. I didn’t even fight it.

Zane pushed my denim skirt up to my hips. My breath was now coming in pants, his hand still at my neck. Cool air hit my bare ass as Zane pulled my panties down. I stepped out of them silently, not moving. His hand traveled up my ankle, stopping to cup between my legs.

I heard his sharp intake of breath. “Fuckin’ sopping.”

His hand left me. I let out a little sound of disappointment.

Zane’s hand cupped my ass. “Your * doesn’t get any attention just yet. You gotta be punished for calling yourself that ugly shit,” he growled.

Slap!

I wasn’t even prepared; he didn’t even warn me as he brought his hand down hard on my ass. The sting radiated through my cheek and I half convulsed at the pleasure.

“You gonna say that shit about yourself again, Wildcat?” Zane asked roughly.

I was too distracted to answer straightaway. Too turned on. Never in my life had I thought I’d be getting off on this. But I was. In a big way.

Slap!

His hand came down again and I flinched, my ass feeling hot while I felt myself get wetter.

Any thoughts about our current location whizzed out of my head. The thought of being discovered seemed to make me burn hotter.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“No, Zane,” I breathed out, “I won’t do it again.”

Rough hands moved to my * and I almost screamed as they reached my clit.

“Good,” he muttered, his finger pushing into me.

I couldn’t restrain my moan of pleasure as he moved inside me, the scream that sounded when he brought his hand down once more, finger still working me.

And then it was gone, right when I’d been about to lose it, explode…he left me empty.

“Wha–” I started to plead, but I was cut off when he thrust into me, filling me to the brim.

I saw stars. Okay, that was way better than his finger. His hand went back to my neck, holding me down against the table as he plunged into me. I met him, thrust for thrust, chasing what I knew promised to be an earth-shattering orgasm. My ass stung and the pads of his fingers were digging into me. It starkly contrasted the pleasure I felt with every stroke. It made it better.