Curly (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 1)

Hell, maybe because of it. Perhaps it made her a horrible person, but there was something about choosing a man so opposite her staid, refined, and pretentious husband as the first man to have her since her divorce that had her blood zinging with excitement. It was the ultimate show of defiant autonomy.

“Brooke?” he asked in a rasp.

She blinked, “Huh? What?” They stood in the middle of her kitchen with his hands cupping her ass and her legs wrapped tight around his trim waist. She clung to his shoulders for balance.

His eyes narrowed, giving him a roguish look. “Where did you go?” He held her with ease, as though she weighed no more than Harley. His strength excited her. Not so much because she wanted him to use it on her—though that’d be hot as hell—but she had the insane notion of bringing all that strength to heel. Of being the one to make him quiver and beg while she steered the boat.

Fuck, that’d be the most erotic thing she’d ever participate in. But it probably wouldn’t happen with a powerful man like him.

“Nowhere. I’m here. All here.” It’d been a day or so since he’d shaved and rough stubble dotted his strong jaw, calling to her. She tightened her legs around him as she leaned in and enjoyed the scratch of his scruff against her cheek.

“My room is the last door at the end of the hall,” she whispered against his ear.

His hands flexed on her ass, drawing a shudder from deep within in her. The way he held her with possessive authority as he marched them toward her bedroom had her wishing they were already naked.

Sex with her ex had been mediocre at best and humiliating at its worst. After the first few years, getting aroused for a man she’d grown to hate hadn’t been an easy task. Of course, he’d noticed her body’s lack of response and blamed her for being frigid despite being disgusted by the one fantasy she’d shared with him. She’d taken to disappearing into elaborate fantasies in her head to tolerate his advances, but even those only went so far when the actual man inside her was complaining about her being a cold fish in bed or how she’d embarrassed him at the latest company function.

There was nothing cold or frigid between her and Curly. His lips attacked her neck, and she swore her entire body heated twenty degrees. They were going to burn the house to the ground with their chemistry.

“Fuck,” he ground out as his teeth raked across her pulse point. “I want to fucking mark you everywhere.” Then he sucked hard on her collarbone, ensuring she’d have a bruise in the morning.

When the sting grew too intense, she squeaked, grabbed his hair, and yanked his head back. His eyes flared with primal desire, making her pussy clench.

He liked that. Liked it when she got aggressive with him. At least, it seemed that way.

Maybe she needed to test the theory.

Hand still filled with his silky hair, she brought their mouths close. “Kiss me?” she asked.

“You never have to ask, Brooke. Just take it. Or fucking demand it of me.” He filled her mouth with his skillful tongue. They moaned into each other, then he was gone, shouting, “Ouch, fuck!”

Her heart stopped in her chest. Had she gone too far?

“My foot,” he grumbled. “I kicked the fucking doorframe.”

Brooke giggled.

“You think that’s funny?” he asked as he maneuvered them into her bedroom.

Biting her lower lip to keep from laughing more, she nodded.

He growled and kissed her again with even more passion this time. She squeezed, wrapping her arms around his neck as they devoured each other in a sloppy kiss that was more about need than finesse. Tongues clashed, teeth clanked and nipped, and lips sucked for long, heated minutes. As amazing as kissing him was, Brooke’s arousal grew with each passing second until she was practically humping his stomach to get some relief from the ache between her legs.

She needed more.

The next thing she knew, he was dropping onto her bed and she was straddling his lap. He still held her ass, grinding her pelvis against the hardness between his legs. She cried out as frustration neared its tipping point. This felt remarkable, the kissing, the touching, but she needed more.

She wanted skin.

With a little snarl, she tried to lift Curly’s shirt, but the tail was stuck under him.

He chuckled as he shifted to give her the access she demanded. “Someone needs it bad, huh?”

Nodding, she yanked his shirt up and off his body.

Finally! Yards of warm, delicious skin. Even though she’d seen his bare chest when they’d been in her pool, the sight of all those tanned and inked muscles took her breath away. The need to rub herself all over that enticing skin had her hopping off his lap and ripping her own T-shirt over her head.