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Jazz held up a hand. “You only made it twenty seconds. I know you said there’d be no sleeping.” She pointed over her shoulder toward the house. “You know this is like boyfriend shit, right? The kind of thing a guy would do if he was actually interested in a girl. In dating her, spending time with her, starting a relationship. Wooing her or something.”
“Wooing?” His eyes widened, and he stepped back as he sputtered. Dating? A relationship? Was she fucking crazy? “Whoa, woman, keep that filthy talk to yourself,” he said with a laugh that didn’t quite feel right.
The soft huff that left her was full of disbelief. “Let me make myself very clear, Screw. I’m not going to have sex with you. Not going to fuck you, not going to blow you or let you eat me out. I’m not even going to invite you into my house to warm up because I know your fucked-up mind would turn that into some kind of victory. Have I covered everything?”
“That mean you’re willing to jerk—”
“Jesus!” she yelled. This time, she marched ten steps away and stayed there, hands on her hips as she stared at the house. A chirp came from her phone, which she dug out of her pocket. He didn’t have to see her face to know she paled at the sight of whatever was on the screen. The tense set of her shoulders and her small gasp gave her away.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothing that concerns you.” Jazz sighed then shoved the phone back in her heavy coat’s pocket. “I want you to stop this.” Her voice wavered but she cleared her throat and tried again. “Stop hitting on me, and please don’t do something like this again. Your games were silly and only mildly irritating at first, but I’m so over it now. Go to the clubhouse and you’ll find at least three Honeys willing to fuck you the moment you walk in the door. Stop wasting your energy and just leave me alone. Please.”
The genuine misery he heard in her voice had Screw biting back the snarky comment at the tip of his tongue. For the first time, he realized what he’d considered fun and games might not be so to Jazz. Finding out what she’d read on her phone took a back seat to his own annoyance.
“You’re serious?”
Her harsh laugh grated his ears. “About not fucking you. Yeah, Screw. I know it’s hard to imagine there’s a person in this world who might not want to sleep—have sex with you, but it turns out it’s true.”
Anger burned in his gut as he marched forward. “Fuck that,” he said. When he reached her, he grabbed her shoulder, spinning her back around. “I mean, are you serious about wanting me to leave you alone?”
Her shoulder fell, but she looked him straight in the eye, unwavering. “I want you to listen to me when I tell you it’s not going to happen. I want you to back off. I don’t understand what you’re hoping to get out of this game.”
“What I’m hoping to get? Well, babe, I’m hoping to come. Was planning to make you come as well. Quite a few times.” Let Miss High-and-mighty chew on that one.
“I come just fine without you, Screw.”
Say what? Fuck, now all he could think about was Jazz, naked in her bed alone as she played with her clit and thrust a thick dildo inside her pussy. He groaned. “How about we take fucking off the table, and you just let me watch you get yourself off?”
“You really can’t take anything seriously, can you Screwball?”
“Hey! That’s not true!” He took plenty of shit seriously. His responsibility to his club. His job at Zach’s gym. Hell, he even took coming seriously. Very fucking seriously.
But aside from that, she was right. It’d been how he’d gotten his nickname after all.
“Maybe we can try it this way. I’m not looking for a man to make me come. Been there done that, and as I said, I manage just fine on my own.”
Screw clenched his teeth. Why did the thought of the men who’d fucked her in the past make him want to strangle each and every one of them with a strand of Christmas lights?
“I’m looking for a man. A real man to be in my life. I don’t want a guy who’s gonna walk out the door with his pants unzipped because taking the time to do them up would mean sticking around too long. And let’s face it, Screw, the idea of anything resembling a commitment is the last thing you want.”
Well, she had him there. Just the idea of being someone’s man gave him fucking hives. Still, something about the idea of walking in the door after work to Jazz had that odd feeling blooming in his chest once again. Since he had no clue what it meant besides having eaten something bad, he fell back on his typical M.O.
