Viper (Hell's Handlers MC 9)

The dogs were already in the room, snuggled up on the deluxe orthopedic dog bed Jazz had made him buy. The way his girl loved on those pups, the fierce guard dog’s he’d intended to raise were gonna be nothing more than slobbering love muffins—Jazz’s words. Though to be honest, he may give her a hard time about spoiling them, but those dogs loved Jazz something fierce and would protect her at all costs.

Kinda like him and Gumby.

Jazz didn’t bother putting her shirt back on. In fact, she shed her pants and crawled up onto their bed clad in only black bikini panties. Damn, she was beautiful and had come such a long way with her confidence and self-image. Severely injured and scarred by a very ill stepbrother a few years ago, she’d spent quite some time avoiding men, relationships, sex due to her negative body image. He and Gumby had worked their asses off to make sure Jazz knew they found every inch of her beautiful and perfect.

Scars and all.

It’d been amazing watching her blossom into a woman confident in her power over her men.

With his cock only semi-erect now, Screw climbed onto the bed after Jazz. He gathered her in his arms once again, and unable to keep any distance between them, he took her lips in a sweet kiss.

A sweet kiss that didn’t stay sweet for long. Gumby’s rejection must have fucked with Jazz’s head, leaving her in need and requiring a little reassurance of the sexual variety. She breached the seam of Screw’s lips with her tongue, stroking it boldly against his.

Taking what she wanted.

And that had Screw forgetting his good intentions to keep this somewhat chaste. As chaste as he could possibly manage with the world’s hottest woman in his arms. With a growly rumble erupting from his chest, he tightened his hold on Jazz and turned them so she lay firmly trapped beneath his weight. Then he plundered her mouth with hungry, possessive kisses.

Hard and throbbing once again, he used his hips to pry her thighs apart, settling in that sweet, damp V he could die happy in. As he ground his cock against the wet cotton of her simple panties, Jazz moaned and canted her hips up to meet him. He deepened the kiss, drinking in her whimpers and trying his damnedest to remember they were there for a reason besides fucking until they both passed out.

A subconscious shift in the air had him ending the make-out session. Jazz stared up at him with a combination of desire and concern in her glossy eyes. Screw gave her as confident a smile as he could muster, rubbing his nose against hers before pressing one last quick kiss to her swollen lips.

As he sat back against the headboard, Screw took a moment to study the man he loved. Gumby stood in the opening to their en suite bathroom a slightly wary look on his face. As though he were a kid caught sneaking snacks after brushing their teeth. Not sure how to play it, but knowing they were busted.

The cagy expression did nothing to detract from his attractiveness. Standing with a towel knotted around his hips, a few drops of water running down the lean muscles of his chest, and wet hair dripping onto his shoulders he gave Screw’s tongue all sorts of naughty ideas. Jazz’s too if her intake of breath was anything to go by.

“What’s up?” Gumby finally asked; the first to reach his limit of silence tolerance.

“You tell us?” Screw spread his legs a little. The move had Gumby’s gaze diverting from his face to his dick. His eyes flared and he licked his lower lip in a move he didn’t even seem aware of.

That’s right, baby, you know you want it.

Jazz settled next to him, so he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. Normally he’d yank her into his lap but he was enjoying Gumby’s focus on his dick as well as Jazz’s tits. He wasn’t above playing dirty to ensure Gumby didn’t want to walk away from them.

Not that he was worried.

“Not sure what you mean.” Gumby ran a hand through his hair, flinging drops of water through the air.

“You’ve turned me down three times this week,” Jazz said then bit her lower lip as though she hadn’t planned to be so blunt.

Good for her. One of them needed the balls to face whatever was occurring head on and apparently, he and Gumby didn’t have ’em.

Gumby’s nose wrinkled, making his glasses slide down a few centimeters. He pushed them back up before saying. “What do you mean?”

“Twice for me,” Screw added and Jazz gasped. He hadn’t dropped that tidbit earlier when she’d mentioned the hat-trick of rejection.

“You’ve turned down sex five times this week.”

If Jazz hadn’t been so worried—Jazz, not him—and Gumby hadn’t had such a guilty expression on his face, Screw would have laughed at her scandalized tone. She sounded as though there was no greater sin in the world than turning down sex with one’s partners five times.