Out of the Ashes (20 page)

A hand clutched my hip and yanked me into a sweaty body.

“Well, hello there, darlin,’” a voice drawled. “Hanging out in dark corners, dangerous for such a sweet piece like you. Lucky I found you.” The voice reeked of alcohol, his words slightly slurred.

I couldn’t make him out in the dull light, but I could feel his hands running up my sides. Anxiety nipped at me. I wasn’t afraid enough to cry out...yet. I wasn’t even sure if anyone would hear me over the sounds of the music.

I tried to push the groper away. “I was just heading back to the party.” I tried to sound strong but I was unable to extract myself from his fumbling arms.

Suddenly, the sweaty body and the stench was gone. There was an unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a body fell to the ground. I flinched slightly when a huge black form stood in front of me. I couldn’t see his face but I knew it was
him
.

“Zane?” I asked in a small voice.

He didn’t answer me. He merely snatched my hand and dragged me up the porch steps and inside. We entered into a sort of lounge and bar area. The music was pumping and bodies moved everywhere. People were dancing while women straddled men in vests who sat on leather couches. I tried not to focus too hard on that. I didn’t really have time as Zane pulled me through it all at an alarming speed. When we reached a hallway the sounds died down slightly and there seemed to be no one. Various doors were closed with unmistakable sounds coming from them.

“Zane,” I tried again.

He stayed silent and his grip tightened when I tried to yank out of it. I wasn’t scared exactly, but he seemed like he was dragging me though a rabbit warren hallway, and I prayed he wasn’t taking me to some torture chamber like his expression suggested.

We turned into yet another hallway, this one utterly deserted, a dead end. The sounds of the party were well and truly distant now and no moaning lay behind the two doors on either side of the hallway.

“Zane, what are we...?”

Zane’s stormy eyes met mine. “Hands on the wall, ass out,” he clipped roughly.

Desire pooled in my stomach at his words. “Wha--”

His hand shot out, covering my mouth. “Didn’t ask you to talk. Told you. Hands on the wall, ass out,” he commanded in a rough tone.

I swallowed. His words were cold, his face blank, but his eyes flared with desire. At that moment, I didn’t care. That we were in a hallway where virtually anyone could walk up. That he was treating me like his whore yet again. I loved it. A deep, sick part of me loved every second of it.

I turned and placed my palms on the wall, ignoring the fact they were shaking slightly.

“Ass out.” His voice was gravelly.

I complied, my knees feeling weak and he hadn’t even touched me.

There was silence, and I felt his breath at the back of my neck. A finger trailed down my exposed spine. His palms moved to the sides of my ribcage, trailing up to cup my bare breasts roughly. I hissed as he tweaked my nipples. Hard.

“No fuckin’ bra,” he grunted furiously. “Strutting around here, ass and legs encased in that tight shit, not wearing a fuckin’ bra,” he growled, fingers tweaking harder. I cried out once more, my panties already soaked.

“You waltz around like that, you’re begging to be claimed,” he whispered in my ear. “Careful what you wish for, Wildcat,” he murmured. Then his mouth was gone, as were his hands.

I felt him yank my ponytail roughly, pulling my head backward to the point of pain. “You fuckin’ move, I’ll tan your ass so hard you won’t sit for a week,” he promised.

I didn’t make a sound, my body pulsating with need.

He yanked harder. “Got me?”

“Got you,” I whimpered.

He didn’t let go. “You come when I say—you say my name when you come,” he continued.

“Okay, Zane,” I whispered hoarsely.

I felt his breath tickle my face a moment, then he was gone. His hands went to my belt and it clattered to the floor. He made quick work of my jeans and they were around my ankles in an instant. I felt the cool breeze against my bare skin. I was standing exposed in the middle of a fucking hallway. I should’ve been embarrassed, ashamed, not hugely turned on.

Zane didn’t touch me, didn’t prep me. I didn’t need it; I was soaked. Without warning, he thrust into me, filling me. One hand bit into my hip, the other spanned my collarbone. I cried out when he filled me to the hilt, in danger of coming from just that. I felt pressure on my ponytail.

“When I say,” he grunted.

I managed a strangled moan in response.

Then he went for it. He took me, relentless, hard to almost the point of pain, but never beyond. I met him thrust for thrust, desperate for release, holding on.

“Zane,” I moaned. “I can’t....”

His hand tightened at my neck. “You fuckin’ can, Wildcat,” he grunted, taking me harder.

I thought I was going to die, or at the very least collapse from the sheer amount of pleasure that needed releasing. I was even more petrified of that release, one that was in danger of shattering me. The buildup taking me to heights I had never been to before.

I struggled to stay upright. Then Zane’s hands moved. He was no longer roughly biting into the flesh at my hip and neck. His back moved to be plastered to mine, his hands laying atop of mine against the wall. His mouth tickled my neck. This position wasn’t the impersonal, erotic, and brutal one like before. This was intimate, decidedly more erotic. “You gonna explode, baby?” he murmured in my ear.

I nodded helplessly.

“Come,” he commanded.

He had barely finished the word and my world started exploding around me. I screamed out his name as he continued to pump through my shudders. I lost feeling in my knees and his hand moved to my belly to keep me upright. Through my orgasm fog, I was aware of his body tightening, him shooting his release into me, which caused me to explode all over again. I shook as I came down.

We were silent, both panting. I had no idea what that was. But it was fucking amazing.

Then I felt it, the loss of him as he moved out of me. I felt him trickle down my leg. I screwed my nose up. This was the not so glamorous part of letting someone screw you without a condom in the middle of a party.

He turned me quickly; how I didn’t fall over with my jeans around my ankles was a mystery. I was beginning to believe he had alpha man powers where laws of things like gravity and physics shriveled and did his bidding.

He unearthed a bandanna out of his back pocket and commenced cleaning between my legs. His eyes never left mine. My mind raced. Was that bandana for that purpose only? Did he just carry it around for situations such as this? Was this his sperm cleaning bandana? In that case, was it clean?

I didn’t know how to articulate my questions so I chose to stay silent. Also, since I had been well and truly fucked I wasn’t sure if my vocal chords still worked. So Zane finished in silence, tucked the bandana away and gently pulled my jeans up. He even buttoned them. I stayed silent. He’d rendered me mute from a good screwing.

He looked at me through the dim light in the hallway, his eyes searching mine as if he was going to say something. Then the shutter went down and his face hardened. And with that, he turned and walked away. I stared agape at the man on the motorcycle that decorated the back of his cut. He held no explanation either. Had Zane just seriously saved me from getting groped from a drunk biker, then dragged me into a hallway and brutally fucked me? Yes, yes, he had. And had I loved it? Yes, yes, I did. And had he just walked away without a word, making me slightly confused and feeling tawdry and used? Um, yes, he fucking had.

“Mia! Oh, thank God,” a breathless voice greeted when I answered the phone.

“Gwen?” I asked, the familiar voice sounding frazzled. “Are you okay?” I asked again, worried. I then heard a screaming child in the background.

“Yes, I’m so sorry to call you with this. There’s just no one else.” She paused and I heard her speak slightly out of the phone. “Shh, baby, please. Mummy knows it hurts.”

“Cade’s away on some biker mission, Mum’s in a different time zone, and all the other people I know are bikers and girlfriends who do not know how to deal with a screaming, teething baby, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call.” She sounded near tears herself.

“Stop apologizing,” I ordered, knowing how she was feeling far too well. “What’s your address?”

Gwen let out a sigh of relief and rattled off an address.

“Be there in five,” I told her before hanging up.

I grabbed my stuff and poked my head in Lexie’s room. Her entire wardrobe seemed to be scattered around the floor.

“I’ll be back soon, Dollybird. Got to go and take care of something,” I told her back. She was currently facing a nearly empty closet.

Upon my words she whirled, a look of horror on her face. “Mom! You can’t leave. You can’t abandon me. I have to find something to wear. I have
nothing
,” she declared dramatically.

“I think the clothes servicing themselves as carpet might disagree with you there, kiddo,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes at me. She looked like she might try and tie me to a chair with a scarf at any moment.

“Relax, Medusa. I’ll be home before you know it. In the meantime, how about you go and destroy my closet and then we’ll comb the floor for outfits. Deal?”

I didn’t wait for her to agree, knowing a teenage girl in the midst of an outfit crisis was not someone you could easily deal with. Heck, an adult Mia in an outfit crisis wasn’t easy to deal with either.

Five minutes later, I pulled up to a beautiful cottage on the beach with flowers dotting around edges. A frazzled, stressed-looking Gwen opened the door two seconds after I knocked with a screaming, red-faced toddler in her arms.

She moved aside to let me in. “I’ve tried everything. She’s not hungry, doesn’t need changing. I’ve walked around with her, played her favorite TV show, given her a bottle, teething ring. Nothing’s working. She’s never screamed this much for this long, I was seriously considering calling the doctor,” she babbled over the screaming.

I totally empathized with the look of sheer worry and exhaustion on Gwen’s pretty face.

“I’ve got her.” I opened my arms and gently pulled the little girl out of Gwen’s. “It’s okay,” I cooed, rocking her as the little toddler shoved her hands in her mouth in distress. “I know it hurts, sweetie, you poor little thing.”

I looked to Gwen, who was visibly shaken. “Can you grab me a cold washcloth and then brew some chamomile tea?” I asked her while swaying Belle.

She nodded and went toward what I guessed was the kitchen.

Being held by an unfamiliar person didn’t seem to do much for Belle, but I wandered around the beautifully decorated house with her, staying calm and talking to her in a low voice. My memories of a screaming Lexie and a very freaked out teenage me seemed to fly right back in. Although I wasn’t wandering around a tastefully and expensively decorated beachfront home. I had been pacing a small rundown apartment, fielding bangs on the wall from neighbors, scared out of my wits.

Gwen rushed back in with a washcloth and an expression that mirrored one I wore fifteen years ago.

“Here.” She thrust the washcloth at me. “I’m just waiting for the jug to boil,” she said. “Belle is never like this, that’s why I’m seriously worried. Should we call a doctor?”

I took the washcloth and shook my head. “No, she’s just having a tough time with the last of those teeth coming in, aren’t you. sweetie?” I asked as I gently put the cool washcloth in her mouth.

She struggled at first, then her little mouth registered the cool relief that came with the soft cloth. She started to quiet and sucked on the cloth, her little hands clutching the edges.

Gwen looked at me with wide eyes. “Seriously? A cold washcloth? Why didn’t I think of that? Oh my gosh, I’m a terrible mother,” she groaned with a hand on her head, the other cupping her small bump.

I shifted my grip so I could pat Gwen’s arm. “You are far from a terrible mother. You are a tired, caring and very worried mother,” I told her. I gazed at the beautiful little girl, who seemed a lot more placid.

I moved to a seat, which I nodded toward. “Sit down. Relax,” I instructed, my tone firm. If she didn’t sit she looked like she might collapse. Watching your child scream pretty much drained the life out of you.

She sank into the sofa and her face softened at the way the baby was happily suckling on the washcloth, the pain and screaming forgotten.

“Thank you so much, Mia. I seriously felt like I was at my wit’s end,” she declared laying back.

I smiled in understanding, sitting across from her. “I’m glad I could help.”

We sat there for a while, chatting and generally hanging out. I gave Gwen a couple more little secrets that got me through teething and the terrible twos without checking myself into a mental institution. Like soaking the cold washcloth in the cooled down tea, which made Belle drift off to sleep in my arms. When Belle was safely asleep, Gwen looked at me with a serious glint in her eye. “Can I ask you something?”

I sensed this question was not baby related. “Sure,” I replied easily.

Her question was silenced by a familiar rumble, one which made us both turn our heads the window.

“Well, looks like the menfolk are home, just in time to miss the tears and drama...typical,” Gwen declared on a grin.

I smiled back at the clear love and affection that lay behind that simple grin. The way her whole body had seemed to relax at the sound of those Harley pipes. I wished I could feel like that. Trust myself to feel like that again. But I was worried that that same love would blind me and a fist to the face would serve as a grim reminder. Or more dangerously, a figurative fist to the heart.

Cade walked into the room, his boots sounding on the floor. He gave me a half grin and his eyes rested on the baby in my arms for a second.

“Mia,” he nodded.

“Hey, Cade,” I greeted brightly, my womanly hormones standing at attention to see such a male specimen up so close.

Said lady hormones did cartwheels at the soft look that crossed the hard biker’s face once he settled on Gwen. He wordlessly made it over to her, clasping her neck and roughly pulling her mouth to touch his.

“Baby,” he murmured into her mouth.

I swear to God I almost blushed at this intimate scene. I’m a woman, of a certain age, with a kid for crissakes, and I almost blushed. Those bikers have super sex powers. I ignored the pang for such an intimate moment with my own biker. Never gonna happen.

Gwen smiled at Cade, her eyes twinkling. “You missed your daughter showcasing her impressive set of pipes and Mia flying in here with her superhero cape to save the day,” she told him seriously. Her eyes flickered to the door. “Hey Bull,” she greeted warmly.

I jumped. Luckily my movement didn’t wake the sleeping baby in my arms. My head spun to see Bull leaning on the doorframe…no, taking up the entire doorframe. His eyes locked on mine. Fury danced underneath them.

“Gwen,” he grunted in response, not taking his eyes off me.

I swallowed. After the night at the club, I couldn’t get enough of him. If it was possible, the sex got even
more
wild. I had been at his place almost every night in the week since the party.

Gwen did not seem to take offense at the monosyllabic greeting, nor at the fact his stare stayed locked on mine. This time I actually did blush and looked at my lap.

“So,” Cade said, his eyes flickering between Bull and I before focusing on his wife. “Mia and her cape?” he asked in a flat tone that hinted amusement.

I was surprised. I didn’t think staunch bikers were capable of such a frivolous emotion.

Gwen shook herself. She too had been inspecting Bull and my wordless exchange. I wondered whether I had some sort of stamp on my forehead saying ‘was fucked senseless by the biker now attempting to murder me with a glare’. There was no way to rub my head self-consciously.

“Yeah, so since you were off on a top secret biker mission and incommunicado, I had to look elsewhere for some mad baby whisperer skills,” she started. “My best friend’s only talent when it comes to babies is accessorizing. I thanked my lucky stars that my marvelous new friend Mia has experience with the critters,” she joked, smiling at me.

“Well, limited experience, considering I was young and stupid when Lexie was this age.” I pointed with my head to the baby.

Gwen leaned into Cade, whose hand had settled around her waist. “Don’t be modest. Belle had been screaming for hours and I was about to have a mental breakdown and she whisks in here and silences her in mere moments. She has the skills,” she stage-whispered to her husband.

He half frowned at Gwen, as if he was considering a thought. “Baby, you know I’ll make myself available for you. You need to call, call,” he said softly.

Gwen merely rolled her eyes.

Cade seemed used to this, as his eyes moved to me and he stood. “Thanks, Mia, I really do appreciate you looking out for my girls,” he said sincerely, moving slowly to take the child out of my hands.

My womb clenched slightly at the sight of such a male cradling his child like it was the answer to every question in the universe.

“No problem,” I answered genuinely. “And if you ever want a night sans rugrats, give me a call. Lexie and I would be happy to babysit.”

Cade gave me a look. “’Appreciate it,” he nodded, half smiling.

I had decided to ignore Zane during this exchange and I decided I would continue to do so even though I felt his stare burning into me.

“Speaking of Lexie, I’ve got to run and save her from a potentially disastrous situation,” I said gravely, gathering my things.

At this, I felt the air turned charged. “What the fuck, Mia?” Zane’s clipped tone was close and it seemed he had moved from the door to my side in a millisecond.

I ached to touch him.

Instead, I glanced at him. “She may have a mental breakdown on a pile of clothes. Nothing to worry about,” I told him lightly. “Or she could go onstage wearing a haphazardly put together outfit and then forever resent me for not saving her from a fashion faux pas.” I paused. “Either way, I have to deal with dire consequences if I do not leave soon.”

Gwen had perked up. “Ooh. Fashion emergency, I can totally help.” Her eyes brightened. “I can even bring stuff. Lexie’s my size. What’s it for?”

I was slightly taken aback at her offer, considering the price tags I knew came with her designer duds. I wouldn’t be offering them up to a teenage girl if I were her. I’d crawl into a cave cradling them and proclaiming them “my precious.”

I jerked myself out of my cave full of imaginary designer purchases. “She’s got a gig. Her first one with her band. It’s at some club in Hope—needless to say she is freaking out,” I told her with a grin. “I personally think it’s because this gig is the beginning of a stellar career, in which she needs to be shod in the right shoes in order to pave her way to superstardom,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Gwen nodded gravely. But before she could speak an alpha male interrupted.

Zane stepped closer, if that was possible. “A gig? In Hope? What club?” He growled tightly.

I stared at him.

“Babe,” he clipped.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to such an array of questions in such an articulate manner,” I shot sarcastically.

Gwen’s choked laugh had me proud of my statement, regardless of the glower it rewarded me.

“Yes, Zane, Lexie has a gig. It’s at some place called Al’s or Hal’s....” I listed, trying to remember.

“Cal’s?” Cade shot, equally grim.

I pointed at him and nodded. “Cal’s. Googled it. Doesn’t look like much, but it’s a good place for undercover record execs to hang. Plus, I talked to Cal on the phone to make sure everything was legit. Seems like a nice guy.”