Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

What service.

And why the hell wasn’t his cock reacting to the thought of bimbo here sucking him off? He always got hard at the offer of a blowjob. Hell, he’d probably get hard if fucking Copper offered to blow him.

But not this chick, apparently.

Maybe he needed more whiskey. Two more swallows and the next glass was gone.

“Thirsty, huh?” she asked with another of those annoying giggles.

Who cared if her giggle bothered him? Soon her mouth would be too full to giggle anyway.

“So, looks like you got shot off that skinny bitch with the butch haircut, huh?” she asked as she rested her elbows on the table, giving him prime view of two ginormous tits.

Tits he’d have loved just weeks ago before Jazz and her natural, reactive, sexy as fuck body got her hooks into him. And then there was Gumby…

Wait…what the hell did she just say? His blood ran cold and a pit of ice formed in his stomach.

“I heard she was frigid as fuck,” the Honey went on with a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned even closer. “Heard she tried to take on two of you. I can take two. I looove taking two so feel free to bring your friend.”

Over his dead body. No way in hell would this alley cat get her claws anywhere near his man. And this shit about trash-talking Jazz ended now. As she began to straighten, he shot his hand out and grabbed her wrist. The bimbo misunderstood his intentions and moaned as though the none-too-gentle touch got her all fired up. “Who the fuck is running their trap about Jazz that way?” he asked giving her arm a shake.

“What? Ow, Screw, that’s too hard.”

He slackened his grip but didn’t release her. If these bitches were gossiping behind Jazz’s back he’d have each and every one of them banned from the clubhouse, permanently. “Tell me who?”

“Uh, no one,” she said, all flouncy bravado gone. “It’s just silly girl talk.”

He raised an eyebrow and stared her down. She seemed to wilt before his eyes.

“I-I mean, look at her. She’s skinny and barely has tits. Her hair is short and she’s always wearing those long-sleeved shirts like a nun or something.” She shrugged a bare shoulder. “I guess we just can’t understand why you’re playing with that lately when you could have all this.” She indicated her own scantily clad body. “Hell, you could have a few of us.” Some of her confidence returned as she no doubt thought he’d never be able to resist her.

Christ, how had he gone for this type of woman for so many years? She reminded him of all the skanks he grew up with in his life. Friends of his mother who gave it away like candy on Halloween and didn’t give a shit whose dick they rode. He’d admittedly been that way too, until he met two people who changed his whole fucking outlook on life. Now, thoughts of anyone but Jazz and Gumby paled in comparison to what he’d been getting. Amazing sex along with closeness and connection. He’d fought it for so long, but now that he’d had it, he wasn’t sure he could live without it.

“Fuck that,” he said as he stood and snatched the bottle. He yanked her forward until their faces were inches apart. Her eyes widened. “I hear the name Jazz from your lips or any of the Honeys’ lips, you’ll be out on your fake ass before you have the chance to reapply your lipstick. Jazz is more woman than the lot of you combined will ever be.”

He released her and stomped away from the bar to an enraged shout of, “Fuck you, Screw!”

Yeah, fuck him. He was pretty sure no one but his right hand would be doing that for a long time because, who the fuck was he kidding? The thought of getting it on with anyone beside Jazz or Gumby held no fucking interest anymore.

They’d gone and ruined his cock.

And his fucking heart.

BAM BAM BAM.

At the pounding on his motel room door, Gumby dragged himself away from the very riveting activity of staring at the ceiling and mentally kicking his own ass. Striker stood on the other side, hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling between his lips.

“Pretty sure Lila would kick your ass until you were bloody if she saw that,” Gumby said as he moved out of the way to allow his VP into the room with its lumpy bed, sad, snot green curtains, and barebones carpet.

“We’ve got a deal. When I’m out of town I’m allowed to smoke as much as I want. Gives me my occasional fix and keeps her from riding my ass.”

Gumby snorted. “You’d probably like it if she rode your ass.”

Striker strode into the bathroom and put the cigarette out in the sink. “You may be right. I’d let that woman do just about any damn thing to me she wanted. Now sit the fuck down and start talking. I know we surprised you by showing up uninvited, but fuck, brother, we had no idea we’d be walking into such a shitstorm. What the fuck is going on?”