Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

Nope. Not Holly.

Screw. Of course.

I’m outside. Didn’t want to startle you by knocking. Open up.

Jazz stared at the screen. No one confused her more than Screw. The man embodied contradiction. So sweet and caring at times then completely apathetic and full of nothing but raunchy suggestions the next. Now, she didn’t mind the suggestions being raunchy, just that he flung them around to anyone and everyone in a ten-mile radius.

Come on, Jazzy.

With Gumby still asleep in the next room, this seemed like a terrible idea.

I have coffee.

Or maybe it was a wonderful idea.

With a groan, Jazz forced her tired body off the bed and shuffled down the hallway to her front door. It was seven a.m. on her day off, and she’d yet to have a hit of caffeine. Those were the only two excuses she had for opening the door without even thinking of putting on a bra or running a brush through her wild hair.

The minute Screw’s lips curled, Jazz wanted to sink into the ground. She may not have been blessed in the boob department, but she still had ’em and they were reacting to the sight of the sexy man in a leather jacket and skull cap standing on her doorstep holding out coffee. The new beard made him look even more roguish than usual.

“Fuck me, you look goddammed adorable,” Screw said with a chuckle.

Her face heated.

“Come on in, you’re letting the heat out.” She stepped back, allowing him entry. Screw strutted in her house, because he couldn’t walk like a normal man, then set her coffee and a small brown sack on her gray wooden entry table.

After shutting the door, Jazz took a breath and turned to face him, not at all ready for the questions he’d most likely have. Instead of grilling her straight away, he cocked his head, grinned and strutted once again, this time into her personal space. As though on instinct, she crossed her arms over her chest to hide her nipple’s response to the clean, cold, wintery scent of Screw.

He lifted his hand, ran it through her hair, and she nearly freaking purred like a damn kitten. “Love the way this sticks out all over in the morning.”

She narrowed her eyes. Was he mocking her? “Screw—” She tried to take a step back but his fist closed, holding her captive with a firm but gentle hold on her hair.

“Looks like you spent the night being well fucked. Also love how I can grip all your hair like this. Gives me so many ideas.”

Jazz shivered and Oh, how she wished she could blame it on the chilly press of his leather jacket against her thin pajamas.

“Screw,” she said, hoping he caught the weak warning she tried to convey.

“You fuck him?”

Her eyes flew wide. “What? Who the hell do you think you are?”

His eyes shot sparks and her fucked-up, neglected libido soared. “Did. You. Fuck. Him.”

Jazz seethed. He had some fucking nerve questioning her about her sex life. “Please, you’ve probably fucked a hundred people since you started trying to get in my panties. I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

The grip he had on her hair tightened. Instead of freaking her out, the sharp tug on her scalp sent need straight to her pussy. “That may be,” he whispered before dragging a thumb across her lips. She had to clench her teeth to keep from licking his finger or worse, sucking it into her mouth. “But I haven’t fucked a single one since I tasted these lips.”

“Wha—” She stood, mouth agape and mind in compete disbelief.

Screw took full advantage, crushing his mouth to hers while she tried to process his statement. His hand shifted, releasing her hair, only to cup the back of her head, holding her at his mercy. His tongue invaded her mouth with wet, aggressive, downright dirty kisses. Last time they’d locked lips, almost two weeks ago, she’d been in a vulnerable mood and shocked at the gentle and sweet way he’d manipulated her mouth. This time, well this was exactly what she’d have expected from a man as experienced as Screw.

He teased her, stroking that clever tongue over hers then retreating the second she followed. Then he’d nip her lip and plunge back in again. She never knew what was coming and it caused a weak-kneed response that had her grabbing the lapels of his jacket to ground herself. It was that or completely melt into the warmth of his body.

His free arm banded around her back, pressing her against his hard body. And hard it was…everywhere. It amazed her how incredible it felt to be in his arm. His warmth, his strength, his talented mouth had her feeling safe, desired, free. If this went on much longer, she’d give in. She’d break a promise to herself and beg the man to fuck her stupid.