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“Thanks.” She rested her head back and closed her eyes. “Seriously. For all the help, but I’m good now. Go home and get some sleep. As soon as I get the energy to move, I’m gonna give myself that orgasm then sleep until Christmas.” And if she visualized his head between her legs or his large body hovering over hers while she pleasured herself, that would just be her little secret.
The next thing she knew, he’d wedged one thigh between her knees, then the other. Her eyes flew open just as he widened his stance, spreading her legs. His gaze had darkened, and his jaw ticked. Predatory. That’s how he looked.
She swallowed, hard, and didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Giving you what you need.” He shrugged out of his cut and chucked it on the couch next to her. When it landed with a soft whump, Izzy couldn’t keep her hands from reaching for the buttery leather. She traced a finger over the rim of the upper rocker. Hell’s Handlers. That’s what he was. That’s who he was. A biker, an outlaw, a man with a past who suffered. A man she should not want to fix. A man she would not let past her defenses.
She tilted her head. “You gonna make me come?” It was almost a challenge, but not in the way he probably interpreted it. More a challenge for herself—take what he offered and let it be what it was. Orgasms. Fucking. Nothing more.
He slowly dropped to his knees between her spread legs, placing the heel of his hand on her mound with just enough pressure to make her clit go crazy with need. “I’m gonna eat this pussy you’ve been teasing me with for weeks. And, fuck yeah, I’m gonna make you come. And you’re gonna have to work harder not to scream than you’ve ever worked at anything in your life. Because you will want to scream. You’ll need to scream, but I won’t have you damaging your voice further.”
Ho-ly shit, that was some confidence right there. It’d been a while since a man had spoken to her like that. Years, really. She tended to be the aggressor and go for men who allowed her the upper hand, even needed it. More comfortable for her to walk away when it was over.
If she’d been in her right mind, she’d have shown him the door, but with pain meds, bourbon, full body soreness, and a desperate need for release, she was weaker than usual. Or at least that’s what she told herself. No matter, she still had her defenses, and snark was the best one. “Well then,” she said, spreading her legs farther apart. “By all means, get to work.”
He caught her legs around the outside of her thighs and pushed them closer together. When her knees were nearly touching, he said, “Lift that gorgeous ass for me.”
She hesitated for a second, then lifted her hips. “Don’t need the compliments, Jig. Just the orgasm.”
He smirked like he saw right through her. “Call it like I see it, sweetheart,” he said as he peeled the skin-tight leggings down her hips and straight off her body. Everywhere his fingertips trailed, little sparks of electricity kicked up, making her wetter and needier by the second.
Shit. This was a bad idea. Compliments and pet names. She closed her eyes. All she’d need was eye contact, and her walls would crumble.
Buck up, girl. You’re stronger than a man and some sweet talking.
Once her pants were off, Jig palmed her inner thighs and pressed outward, spreading her wide once again. Legs splayed, clad only in her stringy thong, she waited for his next move. When nothing happened for at least thirty seconds, she risked opening her eyes. Jig’s gaze was fixed on her pussy, and it clenched hard with need at the look of hunger on his face. “Jig,” she said. “I’m turning gray here. Get to it.”
He snorted and lifted his gaze. “Nothing there to turn gray, babe,” he said, his breath on the hairless skin of her mound.
She couldn’t help the wicked smile. “Like the way it feels when I’m walking around bare.” His eyes darkened. Hmm, this could be fun. Always up for a good power play, Izzy said, “I like the way my panties feel, silky ones, rubbing all over my pussy with nothing in the way. Lacy ones too, with a bit of texture.”
His nostrils flared, and he grabbed her ass, yanking her hips to the edge of the couch. She yelped, but not in pain—no, she wasn’t feeling any of that at the moment. “How about when they’re wet,” he asked as he ran his finger under the string of her thong. “Because you’re fucking soaked now, sweetheart.” He tugged on the cotton, pulling the string forward and up against her clit with just enough pressure to be maddening.
