Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

Astride him in the upper-hand position once again, Izzy glanced down at Jig. “Ready to give up?” she asked.

“Never.”

Izzy froze to a statue above him as the rumble of his laughter vibrated through her pussy which was intimately pressed against his abdomen. Arousal hit her, hard and fast, drenching her panties and stealing her focus.

Jig bucked his hips, sending her careening forward. On autopilot, her hands splayed on his chest, an action that had happened at least three times since they started grappling. But this time, she wasn’t focused on wrestling him, but absorbed the sensation of his hard pecs beneath her fingertips. Those fingertips flexed of their own accord, probing the hard muscles and sending a delicious thrill of need through her.

Jig took advantage of her distracted state and flipped her once again until she landed flat on her back with him between her legs, which were wrapped around his hips, ankles locked across his lower spine. The weight of him pressed into her sensitized sex ripped a low groan from her.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” Almost as if he wasn’t aware of his actions, Jig slid his hands over her skin-tight leggings and up her inner thighs. Halfway between her knees and her pussy, he froze, his large hands gripping her legs tight.

Her body reacted, letting both of them know how much she wanted those hands to continue their journey. Her nipples tightened until she could feel both of them beneath her sports bra, and the need to touch them became almost unbearable.

He got with the program then, eyes zeroing in on the twin points popping out on her chest. Against her ass, the hard ridge of his growing erection nudged her. More wetness flooded her pussy at the feel of his desire, and Jig’s nostril’s flared. Fuck, could he smell her arousal?

The thought was damn hot.

Immobilized in time, they locked gazes and panted as the brewing storm between them grew to hurricane strength.

Without a word, Jig skimmed his hands forward until his thumbs met at the apex of her thighs. He swiped one, then the other, over her mound and her hips jerked as a lightning bolt of sensation shot through her core.

He met her gaze, and she nodded. “I want you, Jig,” she said.

He brushed her again and shook his head, withdrawing his hands. “Not tonight, Izzy. I’m no good tonight. My head’s too fucked. No way I could be anything close to gentle.”

With a huffed laugh, Izzy propped herself on her elbows. “Jig, anything about me give you the impression that I’m down with gentle?”

That earned her a ghost of a smile. “Not what I mean. I’m angry. Fucking pissed. About the diner, about our enemies, about…other things. Can’t promise I can control myself.”

Little did he know those words only fanned her flames. Her pussy wept for him, and if he kept talking, she just might beg him to fuck her. It’d be easy to flip him in his distracted state, and part of her was tempted to do it. Just a quick twist of her hips and a squeeze of her thighs and he’d be under her. At her mercy. Once he felt the heat of her damp pussy grinding on his dick, he’d never refuse her. Then she could fuck him. Her usual style. Submission wasn’t her thing.

But he needed this, and he’d been there for her when she needed help, so she’d give him what she sensed he needed and let him have control. She stayed where she was, determined to get him to let loose of that control. They’d both benefit from it in the most pleasurable of ways.

“I’m game for a little rage-fucking, Jig. Trust me, I can handle you. Whatever you want to dish out.” She’d never spoken words like this to a man she wanted sex from, and a small niggle of unease teased the base of her brain. Not having control was a dangerous position to be in. Someone could slip past the defenses she’d set up if she let them control her.

That wouldn’t happen tonight, though. Jig wanted no part of emotion, connection, or a relationship. She didn’t have to worry that he’d want a date or romance. He’d want to fuck, train, and hang at the occasional party. So she could hand him this very unprecedented gift and let him have the reigns.

“Iz—”

“Shut up, Jig.” She laughed at the surprised look on his face. Okay, maybe she’d hold onto one of those reigns. With a little wiggle, she shimmied her tank top over her head, then grasped the band of her sports bra and gave it the same treatment. Both landed in a pile over her head.

Jig sucked in a breath, his pupils widened, and his cock pressed into the V of her thighs.

Hello, fly, welcome to my web.