Jigsaw (Hell's Handlers MC 3)

Izzy climbed out of the car and squared her shoulders. Time to put on her big girl panties and apologize. It was the least he deserved.

His long stride ate up the distance between them, and within seconds, he was mere feet from her. “Jig,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I owe you an ap—”

“Save it.” He wrapped his long fingers around her upper arm and steered her down the driveway then onto the grass. One of his brothers had parked a sizeable black work van on her lawn. The back doors were open, but the van was empty. Must have been used to haul all the wood. Something she hadn’t considered on her little solo trip to the hardware store in her Accord.

Jig dragged her behind the van, spun her, and shoved her up against the side. She hit with an oomph. “Jig, what are you doing? I was trying to—”

Once again, he cut her off, this time with his lips on hers. The kiss was harsh, a punishment of sorts if she had to guess, but it fired her blood in an instant. Izzy met his tongue stroke for stroke and gave as much as she took. They devoured each other for long seconds. Jig smelled faintly of sawdust, sweat, and leather. The combination tickled her senses and only made her want him more.

Without breaking the kiss, Jig’s hand slithered between them and went to work on the button of her jeans. He had it open almost before she could register what was happening and the zipper down one second later. And then his hand was in there, long fingers shoving their way into her panties, brushing her clit and sinking deep inside her. Izzy sank her teeth into her lower lip to keep from crying out. Half his club brothers were just twenty feet away.

“Fuuck,” Jig whispered against her lips. “You just walk around this wet all the time?”

Izzy chuckled, but it turned into a gasp when Jig grazed his teeth over the muscle running the length of her neck. She tilted her neck to the side as she said, “Nope. Only when you have your hands on me.”

A grunt rumbled out of him. “Good answer.”

He sucked the spot he’d just bitten, keeping up a slow, lazy pace with his finger in her pussy. Enough to feel damn good, but not enough to get her where she needed to be. And that was coming. Coming hard and coming soon.

Jig must have sensed her desperation because he inserted another finger, then one more. Izzy moaned, and he pressed a quick, firm kiss to her lips then drew his head back. His thumb brushed her clit as he fucked her with his fingers, hard and fast.

On a mission now, Izzy rocked against his hand, her clit bumping his thumb with each forward rock. Lefty, her windows, the Handlers, even her own internal bullshit faded to the background as she gave herself over to Jig’s skilled fingers.

Izzy’s lips curled into a smile, and her eyes fluttered shut as her head bumped against the van. This was gonna be one hell of an orgasm.

“Eyes on me,” Jig said on a growl, increasing the pressure of his fingers. Izzy whimpered and opened her eyes to find herself staring into his burning hot gaze. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the man was about to eat her alive.

She kept the eye contact as he worked her to a panting frenzy. When his thumb circled her clit then landed on it with consistent pressure, her knees buckled, and she grabbed the back of his arms for support. A smug grin curved his mouth. He knew the power he had over her at that moment and loved it.

“Shit, Jig, I’m gonna come.”

“Do it,” he bit out, his fingers moving impossibly faster. His gaze still drilled into hers, daring her to look away. She didn’t. She let herself have a moment of vulnerability and kept her gaze locked with his.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered as her pussy latched onto his fingers and her stomach clenched and released. Her mouth dropped open, and she breathed through the orgasm, forcing herself not to scream. It was a monumental effort because the pleasure was a harsh attack on her system. Just five minutes ago she’d been devastated, embarrassed, and frazzled, and now she was riding a high that nearly catapulted her over the mountains.

The whole thing started and ended so fast, she was left with a spinning head and turbulent emotions.

Jig’s hand stilled, but he kept it inside her as he leaned forward and laid a soft kiss on her lips. “Feel better?” he asked.

Izzy spared a second to take stock of herself. And yes, she did feel better. Relaxed, less embarrassed, not nearly as worried or angry. Maybe psychologists should start getting their patients off. Could be the cure for all kinds of ails.