Outside the Lines: A Sons of Templar Novella 2.5

by Anne Malcom

  All I knew was I needed him, and I had to have him inside me in that moment. It had to be rough and hard and all consuming.

  The way his hands yanked off the tee I was wearing while he rolled me back onto my back and cocked my leg roughly to circle his hip, I knew he needed it too. His other hand tightly encircled my neck, not to the point of pain, but enough to make me feel, make my only thoughts be of him and his body.

  “Need you inside me, now,” I demanded hoarsely, my mouth inches from his.

  “Gonna eat your pussy first,” he growled, kissing me firmly before working his way down.

  I cried out as his mouth fastened on my clit after paying close attention to my nipples. I was already ready to climax as he devoured me like a starving man. It was relentless, nowhere near the gentle, teasing way his mouth normally worked me. So, when I exploded it was a reflection of the brutal way he brought me to climax. I couldn’t even hold in my scream, especially not when his body settled over mine and plunged into me, hard, rough, and beautiful. His thrusts pounded against my tender flesh, causing the tension to build right as it had just settled. I could barely breathe as his mouth took control of mine, plundering it while he pounded into me, the taste if my arousal on his lips.

  “You’ll always be mine,” he promised against my mouth. “Always, no matter what.”

  His words were enough to send me over the edge once more, enough to take me past the brink of coherent thought. My mind only on the pleasure.

  Hansen’s whole body turned taut and he buried his face in my neck, latching his teeth and marking me as he came.

  When we were done, we were both sticky with sweat from our frenzied lovemaking, both breathing hard. Hansen hovered above me, watching me. He kissed my nose gently.

  “I’ll always love you, babe, no matter what,” he said quietly.

  Maybe it was the post orgasm glow or the resolution in those words, but something made me believe him. Made me think that despite the mess I was in, everything was going to be okay.

  “Something Grim said before, got me thinking,” I murmured, tucked up against Hansen’s chest.

  It was late. After we’d made love, Hansen had left to get us some food, which we ate in bed. He then made love to me again, this time slower, gentler, but no less mind-blowing. We had lain in silence a long while, until now.

  “Yeah, babe, what’s that?” he asked.

  “You were already planning on killing him?” I didn’t say his name. I never would. I’d heard somewhere that someone died two deaths. Their actual physical death, when they took their last breath, and another kind of death, when everyone in the world stopped saying their name. I had taken care of the first death, I was hell bent on taking care of the second as well.

  I felt the chest below me tighten. “Yeah, we were,” he admitted.

  I moved my head up to meet his eyes. “Why?” I whispered.

  Hansen’s face turned hard. “Arianne called me not long after I left you yesterday,” he started.

  I flinched thinking of the way that day had started. What he’d told me about his mother. I could only focus on one thing at a time, though. So I listened.

  “She was worried you might have succumbed to alcohol poisoning, her words not mine.” He grinned slightly. “So she told me why you decided to disappear into a vodka bottle,” his voice lost all amusement. “Soon as I found out, I knew I’d be making sure that fucker didn’t breathe free for long, not after what he did. Told the boys, they were happy to assist.” He searched my face. “Fate has a fuckin’ warped sense of humor, babe.”

  I furrowed my brows, not understanding.

  “Stephen Ross was a patched member of the Sons of Templar, New Mexico charter, just over fourteen years ago,” he told me.

  My entire body froze. “No,” I whispered.

  “Yeah babe, he was a member. That was until he tried to get himself rich while he double crossed the club. Betrayed his brothers.” H is voice was sharp. “I wasn’t a member then, babe, but Grim and Levi were. So they remember the blow that was. Blow they couldn’t return when he found himself incarcerated for murdering a couple in their own home.” He watched my face as the blood drained from it. “Grim’s been waiting for the fucker to get out of prison, to exact revenge with his own two hands,” he carried on. “When he got word the fucker got paroled, he reached out, pretended that the past was buried. Of course, just before Ross rolled into the club, we learned his connection to you. What he did. That knowledge had Ross’s fate become infinitely darker. A lot more bloody.”

  I gaped at him. “This is too freaky to believe,” I said finally.

  Hansen’s arms tightened. “Yeah babe, the universe works in fucked up ways sometimes. In the end, Ross got what he deserved. Club got the revenge it craved, even if it was at the hands of a pixie-haired half pint who radiated light and goodness,” he said softly.

  One month later

  I stared at the screen. I’d been staring at it for five hours straight and my eyes hurt. My back ached. But my mind was busy. That was good. Necessary. My mind needed to be occupied, it could never be empty. With emptiness came memories.

  The past month I’d battled against them. Against the dreams that jerked me awake at night. The flashbacks that had me lose my breakfast. It was hard. I’d killed a man. Yes, he was evil, the worst kind, but it didn’t change what I’d done. And what I’d done had changed me. I tried to keep my optimism, my happy outlook, my smile. I buried myself in work, baked up a freaking storm in Hansen’s kitchen, went out with Arianne when Hansen had to be at the club. Though, I never had more than a couple of drinks, mindful of the demons that Hansen had buried. Of the mother he was yet to talk about. That might be because he was too busy watching me with an eagle eye, waiting for me to have my inevitable breakdown.

  The first time I went to the club was the hardest. Saw the spot where I’d done it. The spot which had obviously been scrubbed clean, losing any evidence that it was the location of a murder. I had expected the men to be mad, furious at the fact that I had endangered the club, put them all at risk, made them dispose of a body for me. I’d been beyond surprised at the nods of respect, at the gentle squeezes they gave me, devoid of any form of anger. The biggest surprise was Hammer. He had approached me after Jagger had kissed my cheek with a sad glint to his vibrant emerald eyes. Hansen turned to stone beside me, mindful of the fact Hammer didn’t exactly love women. Hammer ignored him.

  “Took guts… what you did. Was stupid as fuck, don’t get me wrong, and had you done anything to make the club go down for it, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now,” he started roughly.

  Hansen made a sound in his throat and stepped forward, I pulled on his hand, stopping him.

  “But, club’s good. So that’s a non-issue. Get the need for revenge, for justice, didn’t think a bitch like you would have the stomach to carry it out,” he continued as if Hansen hadn’t almost just charged him. He didn’t say anything else, merely nodded to me and walked off.

  I’d been utterly shocked at that speech. One that hinted there was more to Hammer than an apparent resentment of women and temper problems. Something that caused those eyes to turn dark and empty.

  That was the last the guys spoke of it. Everyone treated me as normal, apart from Jagger, who was a bit softer with me than usual, like he was expecting me to fall apart. Hansen was the same, he had spent every spare second with me. He tried to act normal, but every now and then I saw concern seep into his features.

  He was the only reason I made it through. I couldn’t tell Arianne. Obviously, I couldn’t tell anyone apart from the handful of men who already witnessed it. So Hansen was the one who gave me strength, who held me tight when nightmares jerked me awake. Who made love to me like I was still his everything, despite my actions. I was slowly coming back to myself, with the support of my family, my man, my club. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have a long way to go.

  I tried my best to keep to my routine, including vi
siting Grandma, which didn’t do much for my state of mind. Robert and I had weekly coffee dates after our respective visits. I found it refreshing, talking to someone completely removed from my lifestyle. Someone who didn’t know I was a murderer.

  “Babe?” Hansen’s voice jerked me out of the past and into the present.

  I moved my head from the computer screen to fasten my eyes to his. They were brimming with concern. “How long you been sitting in front of that thing?” he asked tightly.

  I stood and stretched. “Ummm… depends on how long you think I’ve been sitting there,” I hedged.

  Hansen’s hungry eyes roved over my denim cut-offs and white tee that read, ‘I’m not short, I’m a hobbit.’ His mouth turned into a grin and he shook his head, tagging my waist so my body collided with his.

  “How many of those things do you have?” he murmured against my mouth.

  “I haven’t got an exact number, but it’s in double digits,” I informed him.

  He chuckled slightly.

  “Never thought I’d find that geek shit as hot as I do, babe. But somehow it manages to get my cock hard as stone,” he said, his whiskers tickling my cheek.

  I smiled at him. “Well sir, we may just have to do something about that,” I informed him in a throaty voice.

  I kissed him what I intended to be lightly, but instead he clutched the back of my head and beautifully claimed my mouth. I almost forgot my mission once he’d released me, but the hard on pressing against my stomach reminded me. I winked my slightly dreamy eye, moving down his body, lovingly running my hands along his leather vest.

  When I knelt to the floor and released him from his jeans, I licked my lips, moving forward to taste the pre-cum at the head of his cock.

  He hissed and his hands went to lightly cradle my head. I took him fully into my mouth, loving the whispered curse of pleasure he emitted. I worked him lovingly, running my hands along his shaft as I sucked, moving slow but deep.

  “Macy,” he grunted, his voice rough with desire.

  I kept going.

  “Macy,” he repeated. “Gonna cum, babe. You don’t want me to fill up that sweet mouth, you stop now,” he ordered.

  I inwardly grinned, arousal building up in my stomach as I worked him harder and warm liquid shot into my mouth as Hansen’s hands tightened on my head.

  “Fuck,” he half shouted.

  I slowly licked him clean, and then his arms went under my armpits to lift me.

  “Jesus, baby,” he murmured, lifting me.

  I grinned at him.

  He started us toward his bedroom. “Gonna eat you till you scream, Macy. Then I’ll fuck you till you forget your own name,” he growled, throwing me on the bed.

  And for the next two hours, he kept his promise.

  It was Saturday. For some, Saturday signaled the start of a blissful, relaxing weekend. For me, it was the opposite. Even though I’d pulled up to the house of dread plastered to Hansen’s back, I couldn’t escape the swirling in my stomach knowing I’d have to spend an hour with her.

  “Don’t like you going in there, babe. Don’t like that your eyes don’t get their light back until at least a couple of hours after you leave her,” Hansen said after I’d reluctantly peeled myself off his bike.

  I smiled at him. “You’re just going to have to make sure you get creative in finding ways to make my eyes bright again,” I winked, trying to keep my cheery façade strong. Maybe if I acted it, I’d feel it.

  His eyes turned dark. “You fuckin’ bet I will, babe,” he responded in a husky voice.

  My stomach dropped at the erotic promise. I smacked his shoulder. “You can’t get me all aroused before I go into the real life version of Night of the Living Dead,” I scolded him.

  He smirked. “Way I see it, the only way you’ll get through that is if you’re thinking of my dick. Pick you up in an hour?”

  I shook my head, feeling turned on despite myself. “I’m having coffee with a friend after. So pick me up from that fancy coffee place on Wilson Street in two hours, if that’s okay? Otherwise, I can get a cab,” I added.

  Hansen’s face hardened. “You’re not getting a cab. I’ll be there. Now give me your mouth,” he instructed.

  I bent down, as he was still sitting on his bike. He tagged the back of my neck and laid one on me, hot and heavy, in the middle of the parking lot.

  Once he’d released me, I stood back with a dreamy look on my face.

  “That’s a promise of what’s to come,” he murmured.

  “That will definitely get me through The Night of the Living Dead,” I said dreamily.

  His eyes softened. “Love you, babe.”

  My stomach dropped like it did every time he said that. “Love you, too,” I half whispered.

  He gave me one more look then took off, leaving me standing there watching his bike drive away. I took a deep breath and faced the building.

  I survived the visit, with only minor internal damage from the sharp points of Grandma’s words. It helped I had some complicated and delicious coffee smothered in cream afterward. I was also distracted by seemingly insignificant problems when Robert opened up to me over said coffee. My heart had broken for him, yet he stayed reasonably strong until we walked outside onto the street, saying our goodbyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Bob,” I told him sincerely. Since we’d become friends, I took to calling Robert, Bob. Mostly because no one called him that, and he smirked every time I did it. He was so not a Bob.

  He squeezed me before letting me go. “Thanks, Macy,” he said, his eyes watering slightly.

  Bob had told me his mother was completely gone, even the fleeting glimpses he used to get off her were snatched from the cruel disease holding her mind hostage.

  “Call me if you want to talk?” I said, worried about the fact he didn’t seem to have any friends he spoke of, any other family to talk to. He was a nice guy, he deserved someone.

  He gave me a sad smile. “Will do, Mace. This would’ve been a lot harder had I not had you to help me through.” He kissed me on the head lightly then turned to the parking lot.

  I stood watching him for a second, then turned back to the street, about to get my phone to call Hansen. I didn’t expect to see him sitting on his bike, directly across the street. He did not look happy.

  “Hey honey, sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” I said after I made it to his bike, my body relaxing in his presence.

  “Who the fuck was that?” he said in greeting, his eyes on the BMW pulling out of the parking lot.

  “That’s my friend, Bob,” I said carefully, noting the anger in his voice.

  He moved his eyes back to me. “You didn’t think of telling me about your friend… Bob?” he muttered.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Is this because I didn’t tell you, or because Bob happens to have a penis?” I asked snippily. “I’m allowed to have male friends, Hansen.”

  His jaw clenched. “Yeah babe, not too keen on you hiding them from me. Nor am I too keen on the fact he wants a taste of your pussy.”

  Something in his words, the crassness of them maybe, or maybe it was because I was coasting on frazzled emotions, but something made me lose it.

  “You think I’m going to give it to him?” I hissed. “You think once a whore always a whore?”

  Hansen actually flinched and his face turned hard. “Told you not to call yourself that, Macy,” he growled, moving to get off his bike.

  I scuttled back onto the sidewalk. “Why not?” I half yelled. “That’s what I was. What I always will be. It’s never going to change. You think ‘cause I’ve been with everyone in the club, I’ll let any man who buys me an expensive latte have a piece of me?”

  Hansen stalked forward. “Jesus, Macy, calm down. That’s not what I fuckin’ said,” he thundered, his face tight.

  I threw my hands out, not caring we were having this out in the middle of the street. “It’s what you were thinking. I was a fool to think I could
do this, be with you, transition into an Old Lady when you saw me as a club whore,” I spat, my chest heaving.

  I didn’t know where this was coming from, this anger. I knew it was that little seed I’d nurtured through the start of our relationship, maturing, growing too big to hide anymore or to run from. I was already running from the events of a month ago. It had all finally caught me.

  Hansen’s face turned thunderous and he stepped forward again, clutching my hips tightly.

  “I’ve never thought of you like that. Not once. ‘Cause you never fuckin’ were. You’re special. Not one in a million, once in a lifetime. You are more than any label can describe, especially that fuckin’ ugly one you keep spewing out,” he half growled, though his eyes were soft. “You’re a woman who’s stronger than any man I’ve met. Whose smile lights up a room. You can make the hardest men I know laugh just by babbling some bullshit about fairies and wizards. Just by being you. You. Macy… my Old Lady. That’s the only label you have, the only one I care about,” he told me firmly, holding my eyes hostage.

  Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t hold it together any longer. Everything I’d been burying inside bubbled out through my tear ducts, my body starting to shake with my sobs.

  Hansen wiped them away, all trace of anger gone from his beautiful face. “Shit,” he muttered. His hand cupped my jaw. “Look at me,” he commanded.

  I met his piercing blue eyes, my vision slightly blurry.

  “You’re gonna get on the back of my bike where you belong. Where you’ll always belong, then we’ll go home,” he declared firmly.

  “Ca-can we watch Lord of the Rings?” I hiccupped, needing my fantasy world now more than ever.

  Hansen shook his head, a shadow of a smile on his face. “Yeah babe,” he kissed my nose. “On the bike,” he whispered.

  I looked at him a moment, then moved to sit on the back of his beautiful Harley, where I belonged.

  “You loved it, admit it,” I said, once the credits on Fellowship of The Ring started rolling.