Out of the Ashes (11 page)

I didn’t get past the shocked shriek as I was plastered against his hard naked torso and his mouth latched to mine.

I let him in, thanks to shock more than anything else. Of all the things I expected Zane to do, kiss me was not one. Shoot me, maybe. Running me over with his car also featured on the list in my mind. Playing tonsil hockey appeared nowhere on this list.

So I was shocked at the rough, desperate plundering his tongue did as strong arms locked me in place. I wasn’t shocked at the sharp flame of arousal that flew through my stomach and dampened my panties at his touch.

I vaguely heard the door slam shut, but I was mostly focused on keeping upright, staying conscious as he ruthlessly fucked my mouth with his tongue. I kissed him back, matching his frenzied intensity. This wasn’t tender, wasn’t soft or coaxing. This was brutal, carnal. I didn’t have time to think about where this had come from, why a man who pretty much hated me had suddenly pounced. I could barely think at all. Him, his touch, his strong body against mine was what saturated my senses and consumed my mind.

He slammed me against a wall; I moaned into his mouth and circled my leg around his hip, yanking his body closer to mine. One of his hands groped my ass, kneading it, pressing my core against his hard length. The other cupped my breast roughly, tweaking my nipple through the material of my dress.

His mouth was suddenly gone from mine and he pulled my dress down roughly, the cup of my bra going with it. His mouth was on my bare skin, sucking my nipple, grazing it with his teeth.

I cried out, cupping his head with my hands. My clit pulsed and pressure built between my legs. If he kept this up I was going to come purely from his mouth on my nipple.

“Zane,” I moaned, needing him inside me.

Cool air tickled my breast as his mouth left it.

Furious black eyes met mine and his stare was animal need mixed with human fury. “Shut the fuck up,” he commanded roughly, almost cruelly.

The harsh, cold command did not dampen the white hot arousal coursing through every part of me; it only made me burn hotter, caused my panties to dampen even further.

His mouth latched onto mine with even more fury than before; his callused hands yanked up my dress, ripping at my panties. I barely registered him tearing at the flimsy lace. I was too busy frantically fumbling with his jeans, desperate to yank them off so I could get his hard length inside me. I felt like I was going insane with need. He growled in my mouth as I slipped my hand in, making contact with his pulsing cock. My hands lost their purchase as he pushed them out of the way so he could free himself fully.

Without warning he was there, inside me, filling me. I gasped at the intrusion, and at the lightning bolt of pleasure that came with his touch. Zane’s grip tightened on my ass as he lifted me and slammed me against the wall once more, my legs wrapping around his hips. Another hand moved to circle my neck tightly and his forehead crashed against mine, his mouth inches away.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his black eyes that were burning with hunger, need, danger. Our gazes stayed locked together as he began to pound into me. I cried out as he brutally fucked me against the wall, loving every second. My nails raked against his bare back, his hiss of pleasure as I broke the skin bringing me closer to the brink.

“Harder,” I rasped, feeling out of my mind, needing the rough friction of our coupling to be even more brutal.

His hand tightened on my neck, bordering on pain, but dancing gloriously on the line of pleasure. “No. fucking. talking,” he growled in between thrusts.

He ensured my silence by capturing my mouth once more, brutally matching his kiss to the frenzied thrusts slamming me against the wall, and building me up for what I knew would be the most intense orgasm of my life. I bit his lip roughly and dug my nails into his back once more. I felt like a woman possessed.

Suddenly my orgasm overwhelmed me and I failed to restrain my scream as I shattered into a thousand pieces while Zane kept pounding. Every brutal stroke seemed to take me further into oblivion.

My pussy clenched around him as I reached the peak of my climax. He grunted his own release and I felt him empty into me.

I struggled to regain my grasp on reality, breathing heavily. My legs were still locked around Zane’s hips, my hands clinging to his back. I was worried he was the only thing stopping me from melting into a sex-induced stupor.

His hand was still firm at my neck, the other biting into my ass in a way that I knew would leave a mark.

I opened my eyes slowly, regaining some sense of equilibrium. Zane was staring at me. No, not staring at me, but
into
me. His gaze seemed to sear my soul, as if he had fucked me bare, right down to the core of me. He could see everything. His expression was strange. Searching, somehow reverent.

In an instant, as if a switch had flicked, it turned blank. Everything wiped from those eyes and a cold fury returned. He pulled out of me quickly and set me on shaky legs. I felt him seep out of me.

Holy fuck. No condom.

I didn’t have time to evaluate all of the issues this presented, since a rough voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.

“Get out,” he commanded.

I blinked, trying to right my disheveled clothes.

“What?” I asked weakly. We had just had sex, literally seconds ago. No, it wasn’t sex. It was
fucking
. Pure, unadulterated, raw and carnal fucking. But still. He had just been inside me, his cum was literally dripping down my leg. He couldn’t possibly be kicking me out. We needed to talk about this. Actually, we needed to have some sort of conversation. I didn’t think we’d actually done that since I’d met him. We needed to converse and he needed to emit more than two syllables so I didn’t feel like a dirty slut who just had sex with someone who she hadn’t even heard utter a full sentence.

He regarded my coldly. “You need to fuckin’ leave. Now,” he bit out, his voice hard and emotionless.

I flinched slightly at the cruel tone and the equally cruel stare. I felt humiliated. Used. Sullied. I didn’t have the strength to conjure up any fury, to yell or argue or call him a misogynistic asshole. I merely just stared at him a second longer and darted out the door. Then I ran, full on
ran
across the street and into my house. I really hoped my neighbors didn’t choose now to water their gardens and see the sight, but then again I was too beyond it to care. I just needed to get home.

I slammed the door behind me and sank down to the floor, my head hitting my knees. I didn’t cry. I hadn’t let a man have my tears in sixteen years; I wasn’t about to start now. I also hadn’t had a man hurt me in sixteen years, and I was afraid that I had just opened that door. This time it wasn’t with fists or kicks. It was with cold stares and cutting dismissals. It hurt just the same.

Bull paced his living room, his fists clenched tightly to his sides. He was struggling. Battling actually. This time it wasn’t against the demons that were hell bent on destroying him. No. This time it was against himself. Against her.

Every fiber of his being was urging him to get out of his fuckin’ hallway and follow her, drag her back in here, apologize, then fuck her again. Against the wall. Then he’d take her into his bedroom, taste her pussy, make her come on his mouth, then fuck her for a third time. His dick clenched at the thought of getting her honey on his tongue. Of sliding into her tight heat again. He put his fist through his wall. Out of anger, frustration. But mostly to distract him. The pain didn’t do much to move his mind away from her, though. Pain was normal. It was his constant companion. A welcome friend.

What was dangerous was not feeling pain. Of feeling her hot tight body underneath his. Tasting her mouth, feeling her moan as he pounded inside her. Having his dick milked by her orgasm. That was dangerous.

“Fuck!” he roared, shaking his head.

He’d fucked up. Majorly. Christ, he had vowed to himself, after those torturous two hours at the movie theater, he fuckin’ swore he would do everything to make sure he was never in her presence again. Never close enough to smell the vanilla scent coming off her hair. To feel that spark when their skin met.

He was seriously considering selling his house. He had already spent three nights at the club, trying to get her out of his mind. He’d fucked the only club bitch he could stomach, the one who knew the deal, knew what to do. That hadn’t even helped. He’d only come visualizing Mia. Usually he did everything humanly possible not to think of golden hair while fuckin’ a club bitch. That’s why Whit was best. Dark hair, dark eyes. Curvy. Complete opposite. He’d fucked her the day of the disaster at the movie theater. Hadn’t touched her since; instead, he sought solace in a whisky bottle.

Then within fuckin’ hours of him getting home, the bitch arrived on his doorstep. With fuckin’ cake. She was babbling. Nervous. And fuckin’ irresistible. He had had to lock himself down from dragging her in the moment he opened the door.

And when he had finally lost the battle, hauling her in, finally tasting her mouth, he had expected her to fight him. To rear away in disgust. Hell, he had fuckin’ hoped for it. But instead she had melted against him, clawed at his fuckin’ back. The wildcat took every inch of him. Those moments he was inside her, touching her, tasting her. Everything was gone. The memories, the demons. Everything. It was only her.

When they were done he had looked at her. Her eyes had been lazy, a sated dreamy expression on her face. She had been fuckin’ beautiful. He actually had to catch himself from laying a soft kiss on her swollen lips. From brushing her golden hair out of her face.

That’s what had got him. The hair. Gold. Not the same, nowhere near. But that shimmer had started the battle again. Made those memories rush back in. The pain at the bottom of his gut. So he was cruel. Brutal. He knew it. The moment she flinched, fuckin’ flinched from the weight of his words he knew. But it was necessary. Vital. She needed to stay away. For her own safety.

“Mom, I’ve got something to tell you,” Lexie declared, leaning over the front desk of reception, grabbing a mint from our bowl.

I didn’t look up from my computer. “Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant. I’m too young to have a teenage daughter, let alone a granddaughter. They’d put me on the news,” I said distractedly. I looked up with a grim expression. “Is it worse? Have you turned into a,” I paused for dramatic effect, “a
Beliebe
r?” I finished with horror.

It was Wednesday. A week after what I was now referring in my mind as
the incident
. I had sat on the floor of my front door for exactly an hour, wallowing in self-pity and shame. Then I had pulled myself together, made myself an appointment with a doctor for an STD check and thanked God I was on the pill. Not because of all the action I got. I was a single mom trying to give my daughter a life with a roof over her head and the possibility of a college education. I didn’t have much time for romantic dalliances. Not only that, I didn’t want a parade of men in front of Lexie. And there was the little issue of what her lovely father had done to me before. Thanks to that lovely cocktail of events I was pretty dry on the sexual encounter front. I had them sporadically, and Lexie never knew. But this latest disaster was a great reason why I should stay away from men indefinitely.

“I’m in a band!” she announced excitedly as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

“Some kids at school heard me playing in a study period, we got to chatting and boom!” She made a gesture with her hands. “A band was born.”

I stared dumbly at her a second. “Tell me it’s a TLC cover band,” I pleaded with a straight face.

Lexie scowled at me.

I smiled and patted her hand. “Come on, kid, you’ve had sixteen years of my brand of humor. You’d think by now you could roll with it. That’s fricking awesome—I can’t wait to meet them,” I told her sincerely.

I inwardly let out a breath of relief. Lexie seemed like she had been doing fine at her new school; she hadn’t come home with a major wedgie or any black eyes, so things couldn’t be that bad. But she wasn’t mentioning too many new friends, nor going for sleepovers. However, even at her old school, Lexie wasn’t much for sleepovers. She and her best friend Emma mainly hung out with me watching movies.

“Well,” she said cautiously, “I was hoping that since we’ve got that garage we never use...”

“On account of there being too much stuff in there I’m not mentally or physically prepared to unpack,” I interrupted her.

“Yeah, that. Well, since it actually isn’t being utilized for its intended purpose, I thought we could repurpose it,” she trailed off and gave me a look.

“Repurpose it as what, exactly?” I asked suspiciously, not catching on. It had been hours since my last coffee. And since
the incident
I wasn’t sleeping too great. My mind went back to the conversation at hand. “Please don’t say a Pilates studio. Or a yoga studio. Or any studio type thing that involves exercise.”

“As a place for my band to practice,” she cut me off, seeming to know I was about to rattle off every unpleasant healthy purpose she could possibly have.

I relaxed. “Thank God,” I muttered.

Lexie brightened. “Righteous,” she declared, taking my blasphemy as a yes.

“Someone’s gotta determine whether you guys are destined for superstardom,” I said, my mind catching up somewhat. A light bulb popped over my head. “Hey, I could be your momager! Get you gigs, do your wardrobe. Ride your coattails all the way to the Grammys.” I was mentally calculating my cut.

“Mom, we’re a high school band who haven’t even properly rehearsed yet. Don’t write the acceptance speech just yet,” she chided.

“Mmhmm,” I said distractedly, thinking of the Porsche I’d buy with my income.

Brad the front desk receptionist wandered past. “Brad!” I called, stopping him. “Lexie’s band is going to be world famous. Want her autograph now so you can sell it on eBay in five years and retire a rich man?” I asked him.

He grinned. “You bet. I’ll also be doing a
TMZ
interview telling all about how I knew her before she was gobbled up by the fame monster,” he responded without missing a beat.

I gave him a thumbs up and turned to Lexie, grinning. She had her head in her hands.

I ignored this. “So, when do I get to meet the band?” I asked, glancing back to my reservation list on the computer. “Let’s have them for dinner,” I said before she could answer. “By have them for dinner I do not mean you cook some gluten free, sugar free, happiness free dish containing sauerkraut,” I told her. “I’m talking we have them over and get pizza delivered to the house. We don’t want to scare them off with your health freak tendencies—it could break up the band before it even begins. Kale could be the Yoko Ono to your Beatles,” I said in all seriousness.

“Whatever, Mom,” Lexie responded in a bored tone.

My eyes widened and I gave her my full attention. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed with a hand dramatically on my chest. “I just got my first sarcastic ‘whatever’ from my teenage daughter! A milestone. One that I never thought I’d get. We need a picture,” I surmised, glancing around for my phone.

Lexie rolled her eyes.

I went back a step. “An eye-roll too? Double whammy of teenage surliness.”

My phone rang from under a stack of papers. I pointed at Lexie as I went to grab it. “Don’t you move, young lady, we are documenting this moment.”

I glanced down at the screen to smile at the name that was flashing.

“Ava!” I answered warmly. “You have called in time to be involved in a milestone. Lexie’s first sarcastic ‘whatever’ and following eye roll,” I told her, wiping a fake tear for dramatic effect.

“Should I send I cake?” Ava replied seriously.

I pretended to ponder. “Maybe a small batch of brownies would be sufficient. And by small I mean enough to feed both Lexie and I.”

“So two batches then?”

“Bingo.” She knew me so well and luckily was also on board with Lexie’s and my particular sense of humor.

“Hey, Ava!” Lexie called from across the counter.

“Spawn says hi,” I repeated unnecessarily.

“Oh, I’ll have a chat with her in a moment, if she’s not too busy with schoolwork,” Ava replied.

“Oh, she’s not busy. We pulled her out of school, thinking performing on the street would be much more productive,” I deadpanned.

“I approve. School’s a waste of time these days anyway,” she agreed with a smile in her voice. “So,” Ava continued. “How’s it all going? I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to talk sooner—I’ve been thinking of you both,” she said apologetically.

“Don’t worry, we’ve been so busy I’ve barely had time to binge watch
The Walking Dead
,” I said, leaning next to Lexie.

We chatted for a couple of minutes and I was glad to talk to someone who I thought of as a second mother. Actually, considering the woman who birthed me could only be loosely described as a mother, and only in a purely biological sense, she was my only
mom
. Ava was the only grandmother figure Lexie had in her life, although, she did refuse to be called that. She loved Lexie with all of her heart, though.

After I had passed her on to Lexie, who wandered away into the depths of the hotel to talk, I tried to get myself back to work to get my mind off
the incident
. The fact I spent an hour looking at a computer screen without actually doing anything told me I failed.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” I asked, blowing a hair out of my face. I kicked a box out of the way as Lexie pulled a rug over the stained concrete floor of the garage.

“Because you love me?” she answered after she had straightened.

I thought for a moment, rubbing my aching back. “No, can’t be that.”

“Because I’m your only daughter?” she continued.

I paused and shook my head, squinting into the distance. “Oh, I know—it’s ‘cause you’re going to become rich and famous and look after me in my old age,” I said triumphantly.

Lexie stared at me. “That’s yet to be determined. If you don’t play your cards right, as soon as you’re of age I’m putting you in a home.”

I scowled at her. “I can’t believe I’m doing manual labor on my day off,” I whined. “It’s Saturday, the day of rest. We should be either vegged out catching up on
Scandal
, or shopping up a storm at some obscure vintage shop,” I told her while I stretched to place a box on a shelf. I refused to unpack anything that I didn’t need to, hence me shoving them anywhere out of the way.

Lexie was doing the same, though not out of laziness, like me. She was anxious to get her jam space ready. Her band was coming over for pizza tonight, therefore I was recruited as slave labor.

“Sunday is the day of rest, Mom,” she told me in a patronizing tone.

I poked my tongue out at her. She ignored me and went back to shuffle some more boxes around.

I was saved from having to continue my work with the ringing of my cellphone. “Whoever this is, I love you eternally for saving me from breaking my back in the name of music,” I greeted.

A masculine laugh sounded at the end of the line. “Well, babe, that’s twice now you’ve declared your undying love for me and we haven’t even had a first date. Things are looking promising.”

“Oh hey, Lucky,” I responded. One could not forget the sound of a particular hot guy’s voice. Especially when that particular hot guy had your beloved car in his care. And was also connected to the man you fucked against the wall a week ago.

“I’m hoping you’ve got some good news for me,” I continued, shaking my head to rid it of dangerous thoughts.

My car repair had taken longer than expected. Which would have mildly pissed me off, but I had transportation, and Lucky had called me twice this week with an update. My sex life was in the crapper, so my joking calls with the biker hottie were all I had.

“Yes, it’s finally ready. You can have Betty back,” he said, referring to my car by her proper name.

“That’s awesome! Can I come and pick her up now?” I asked hopefully. This would be killing two birds with one stone. Get my car, get out of the remainder of work left in the garage. My glance flickered over to the house across the street. The house that had been empty for over a week. My stomach dropped at the thought of running into Zane.