Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

Breathing in a shuddered breath, her gaze met Gumby’s in the mirror. With his focus locked on her, he gathered the end of her shirt in his hands, lifting only a couple of inches. Jazz’s stomach muscles jumped and clenched beneath his touch.

This was it. The moment she exposed the deep, dark, core of herself to not one, but two men.

“I guarantee neither of us will think you are anything less than beautiful, Jazzy,” Screw said from the ground. “It’s just not possible.”

He kissed her then, straight over her clit, making her sigh in pleasure. The sweet words, which sounded so sincere, bolstered her confidence.

She could do this. If nothing else, it’d be an indicator of how her life would play out. Hiding wasn’t her style and yet she’d done it for so long, even from herself.

After blowing out an exhale, she nodded at Gumby in the mirror.

He lifted the shirt slowly, as though she were a wounded animal he worried about startling. Instead of resuming his task, Screw stroked through her drenched folds, rimming her opening before dipping just the tip of his finger in. He repeated the action again and again until she was trembling beneath his touch. In a high kneel position, he was too close to the skin being revealed. Too close to the part of her she hated, but she just couldn’t muster the strength to ask him to back off.

Inch by inch, Jazz became more and more exposed. The raised lines scattered all across her stomach came into view. All so ugly she couldn’t look. By the time Gumby had the shirt to the underside of her breasts, she was shaking, but no longer in pleasure. In fact, the strangling fear overrode all the pleasure Screw’s hand had been wringing from her.

“Wait!” she yelled, grabbing Gumby’s hands. “Th-that’s high enough. I can’t…they’re…they have scars,” she whispered.

And there, right beneath her shirt, so close to Gumby’s hands was the part of her she detested the most. Her breasts had never been big or even average sized, but her nipples had been sensitive, and she’d loved having them touched, pinched, sucked, and generally played with during sex.

Now?

Now she didn’t even touch them herself. Paul had cut them, leaving her with scars on the mounds and deformed nipples.

Gumby stopped moving but didn’t lower the shirt back down. “Look,” he said.

Jazz shook her head keeping her teary eyes focused on his face in the mirror.

“Look, Jazmine. See how strong you are. How beautiful. What a survivor you are. See how your body made itself whole again. See what we see.”

How was it possible for them to see all that when all she saw was a damaged mess? A sob broke free, but she bit her lower lip, not allowing any others to escape.

With nausea rising in her gut, she lowered her gaze just in time to see the back of Screw’s head move toward her stomach. He blocked most of her view, but she still saw a few raised, light lines. Some were thin, small, and others gnarled, twisted, and much thicker. His lips landed on one of the large ones, applying a light suction. Then he moved on to another, sucking harder this time.

Hard enough to leave a mark.

Her heart clenched so hard, it missed a few beats. He wasn’t disgusted. Didn’t find her ugly or disfigured. He still wanted his mouth on her.

She wasn’t sure she deserved this gift they were giving her, but she planned to hold tight to it with both hands so the memories of feeling beautiful would persist.

On and on Screw went, kissing each and every scar, sucking the biggest ones and replacing what she saw with a love bite. Tomorrow she’d have multiple hickeys on her stomach, something she’d actually want to see.

As he loved on her ruined skin, Screw sank a finger into her pussy. Jazz’s head fell back, bumping against Gumby as her eyes fell closed.

He tsked. “Nuh-uh-uh,” he said with a chuckle. “You know the rules.”

“It’s too good.”

“I know, baby. Trust me, I know.”

She smiled, then cool air wafted across her breasts, stealing her ability to think and driving her to a near panic attack.

“No,” she whimpered, grabbing for the shirt.

Gumby pushed her hands down. “Shhh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Keep your eyes closed and let me tell you what I see.”

Screw circled his thumb over her clit.

God, when he touched her that way, she could barely make sense of up from down. How was she supposed to form a rational argument and fight Gumby on this?

“I see two tits that aren’t huge, but they’ll fit nicely in my hands.” He demonstrated by closing his palms over her breasts and giving a light squeeze. All the while Screw continued worshiping her scars and fingering her.

“Yes, Jazz, your tits have scars like the rest of your torso.”