by Atlas, Lilly
Great, so they were on to him where Jazz was concerned, but oblivious to his involvement with Screw. Strangely enough, he had to bite his tongue to keep his involvement with Screw from blurting out. The man had done something great for his club tonight. Who wouldn’t be proud to be with Screw?
Thoughts of his two lovers had the need to see them, to touch them making him jog to LJ’s car. He couldn’t wait to be with them, yet the thought of LJ knowing sent him into a tailspin.
I’m a hypocritical asshole.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TYPICALLY, GIRLS’ NIGHT consisted of booze, gossip, sex stories, sugar, and raucous laughter. Tonight, none of that happened. Not so much as a giggle, or hell, barely even a smile from any of the tough-as-nails sisterhood.
They’d all tried, showing up in cutsie pajamas with these phony smiles plastered on their faces, and their bottles of wine. Hell, Holly even brought six types of cookies. Nervous baking as she’d confessed as soon as the men had left. She’d been on her own for the past few nights while LJ did…whatever it was the club had asked of him.
Turns out, they’d all had the same plan: play along for the sake of the guys. Last thing they needed while doing whatever super-secret shit they were doing was to worry about their ol’ ladies. The moment all the men left, each woman began their own stress induced rituals. Shell had been pacing in front of her television on and off for the last few hours. Some sitcom played in the background with the volume so low, no one even seemed to realize the TV was on. Toni sat with a notebook, supposedly brainstorming new menu items for the diner. In reality she alternated between chewing the end of the pen and tapping it on her leg while the page remained blank. Chloe was knitting or trying to learn to knit. She had a blob of yarn growing unevenly as she cursed at it. Stephanie surfed her phone, the quietest of the group which was unusual for her. Holly tried to get everyone to eat, but they all must have had the same stomachache Jazz did, because no one took so much as a bite. The only one in any state of relaxation was Izzy who’d passed out an hour ago after putting baby Joy to sleep in a pack-n-play in Shell’s spare room. The poor new mom was so exhausted, she’d probably be asleep if the zombie apocalypse was occurring outside.
Jazz spent most of the time watching her friends. Her mind ran in too many circles to concentrate on one task or even play around on her phone. A huge part of her was tempted to blurt out her arrangement with Screw and Gumby just so they would know she deserved to share in their worries.
“Enough is enough,” Shell blurted, sometime near midnight.
Though her eyes felt heavy and her body fatigued, Jazz was pretty sure she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep all night. Instead, with the amount of adrenalin pumping through her system, she could probably go out and run five miles without breaking a sweat.
“We need to do something to take our minds off this. We’re driving ourselves freaking nuts here. Gimme a damn cookie.” She held her hand out to Holly who was lying with her legs hanging over the armrest of the couch. Shell’s flannel pjs with pink hearts made her look about seventeen.
“Oh, uh,” Holly scrambled to a seated position. She had flannel pjs as well, hers with various emojis. “Which one do you want?”
“Surprise me.” Shell tapped her foot and wiggled her fingers as she waited. Though her man was at the clubhouse and not with the rest of the guys, she was just as worried for her family as each of the ol’ ladies.
“Here.” Holly placed a giant chocolate cookie in her hand then sat back with an expectant look on her face.
“Thanks.” Without even looking to see what flavor she’d been gifted, Shell took a huge bite. A moan left her lips and she stared at the ceiling as though seeing God. “Oh. My. God. These are so freaking good, Hol.”
“They must be,” Stephanie said with a snort. “That one clearly gave you an orgasm.” Steph wore a Hell’s Handlers T-shirt with black sweats.
All the ladies cracked up and it was exactly what they needed to cut through the thick tension.
“You’re right, Shell,” Toni said, playing with a button on her buffalo plaid pajamas. “We need to try to be normal if only to pass time faster.”
Jazz sat forward. “Okay, I could use a cookiegasm. Give me one of those babies.”
The next hour passed quicker. They chatted, ate cookies, and only checked their phones once every five minutes instead of every sixty seconds as they’d been doing earlier in the evening.
“Guys,” Jazz said, picking up a cookie with white chocolate chunks and some kind of nut. “This is my last one. You hear me? She turned to Chloe who sat next to her on the couch. “If you see me reach for another one, you smack my hand. Hard.”
“Huh, I can do that,” Chloe said with a grin just as the front door flew open.
As though all controlled by one button, all the women—save for Izzy—jumped to their feet.
One by one, the men strode into the house, much more subdued than she’d been hoping for. In her mind, they’d burst into Shell’s house whooping and hollering over their success with…whatever.
Instead, each man walked to his woman, gathered her up in his arms and held her. When Screw walked into the house, the air crackled with agitation. Though frowning with tense muscles and clenched fists, he was in one piece with no visible blood, so she counted that a major win.
As much as she wanted to leap into his arms, they didn’t do that outside the privacy of their homes. Instead, she gave him a pleased smile before glancing over his shoulder in time to see Rocket close the door behind him.
Wait…
“Gumby in the car?” she asked Screw. When the only answer she received was shared looks between the men, her stomach bottomed out. “Screw? Where’s Gumby? Oh, my God, is this why none of you are smiling? Did something happen to him? Where is he?”
She grabbed Screw’s jacket, shaking as hard as she could which barely moved the muscle-bound man.
“He’s still in Knoxville,” Screw said as though telling her, “It’s raining today.”
“What?” She dropped the fabric and pressed a hand to her stomach. “Oh, shit, I’m gonna be sick. What happened?”
“Jesus, Screw,” Maverick said. He whispered something to Stephanie, who nodded, then he came over to Jazz.
“Tell me,” she said, transferring her attention to Mav. “Is he hurt? Was he arrested?” She grabbed onto the edges of his cut now.
“He’s fine.” Mav said, wrapping his arms around her. He held her tight. “We had a little trouble and he stayed behind to get the job done despite Screw telling him to get the fuck outta there.”
Jazz moaned and her knees weakened. All of a sudden, she was bombarded with the million possibilities of what could happen to Gumby. Her skin felt too tight for her body and she wanted to scream as she clawed it off.
“Shhh, honey, he’s okay. It was a close call, but he is fine. He’s with LJ about an hour behind us. Okay?”
She planted her forehead against Maverick’s chest. “Thank you.”
“Hey,” he whispered in her ear. “Screw’s taking this hard. Personally. Feels like he should have planned better. We had a few hiccups, but it was an overall success. Mission accomplished. He’s not seeing it that way. He’s gonna drive you home. Go easy on him, okay?”
Jazz nodded against his chest. “Thanks, Mav.”
“No problem, baby cakes.”
She huffed out a small laugh before stepping out of Mav’s embrace.
“Let me just grab my bag,” she said turning toward Screw and—whoa the man was glaring freakin’ flaming daggers at Mav.
What the hell?
A glance over her shoulder showed Mav staring right back at Screw with a shit-eating grin while Steph rolled her eyes and tried to tug her man away.
“I’ll be in the car,” Screw said.
“Sure. What the hell was that, Mav?” she asked once Screw walked outside.
“Don’t worry about it, hon, just giving the man a wakeup call.”
/> Whatever. She didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with male politics right now. After hugging her girls goodbye and finding her purse, she made her way to Screw’s idling truck.
A few failed attempts at small talk had her enduring the ten-minute ride in silence. At his house, Screw hopped out, came around and opened her door for her. She followed him up the short walk to his home.
Without a word, she walked directly into Screw’s kitchen. Over the past week, she’d spent enough time there to have learned her way around. As she poured them both a healthy few swallows of whiskey, the energy in the room shifted. A glance over her shoulder revealed the agitated man had followed her, though his attention was fixated elsewhere.
He’d shed the dark jacket, leaving him in some kind of black cargo pants with a short sleeved black T-shirt. Clothing worn for stealth. As he paced the length of his kitchen, his fists curled at his sides and his back bunched with tension. In that moment he reminded her of a jet-black panther, captured, caged, and dying to be let loose. At some point in the near future, the pressure in his body would expand enough to cause an explosion. Call her a masochist, but she wanted to be the one to throw herself on that grenade.
“Here,” she said, holding the glass out to him. He took it without looking at her and tossed the liquid back with two long swallows.
It wasn’t the time, but damn if she didn’t want to lick his throat as he gulped the whiskey down.
She stood there, sipping her own drink and bouncing her leg as he continued the restless prowling. After a few moments, she couldn’t take it any longer. “Luke,” she said stepping into his path.
He tried to sidestep her, but she put her hands on his chest, rubbing up and down. Like the wild animal he portrayed, her touch seemed to ground him a tiny bit.
“Hey,” she said, grabbing his face and forcing him to look directly at her. “He is okay. He was not hurt, he was not arrested. Gumby is okay and will be here in a little bit.”
He grunted, circling her wrists with his strong hands. But instead of the tight hold prying her away, he just held her palms against his bearded cheeks.
“He is okay, but if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t be on you, Screw. You did what your club needed. He is a grown man who made a choice to stay behind. That is not your fault. You did not fail him. You did not fail your club. You did not fail me. And you sure as hell did not fail yourself.”
He cocked an eyebrow and opened his mouth.
“No!” she said, placing her palm over his lips. “No jokes. I want the real Screw.”
He moved so fast, all she could do was gasp as her back hit the wall. The near violence of the move had heat flushing through her. He’d never hurt her, not in a million years. There wasn’t a single part of her that feared his agitated mood. But he might take his aggression out on her in another way and that knowledge awoke a primal need deep within her.
Screw’s hands slapped the wall on either side of her head. He pressed his lower body into her, erection nestled against her stomach. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “You say you want me to be real?”
“Yes,” she said on an exhale, unable to resist the urge to arch her body into his erection.
“You say it, but I don’t know if you mean it. I don’t know if you can handle it.” He tapped the side of his head. “It can be a dark place. A fucking disaster I can barely deal with.”
“I want it,” she said, voice steady as she looked into his eyes swirling with hesitant need. “I want the gritty, raw, emotional mess who feels totally out of control right now. Give him to me.” As he frowned down at her, she gripped the hem of her fleecy pajama top and pulled it over her head, bearing her scars to him. She’d forgone the bra, so every deformity, every mark was plainly on display. With a trembling hand, she pulled his off the wall and placed it over her breast, the disfigured nipple stabbing into the center of his palm. “I gave it all to you. Every painful part. I won’t hurt you, Luke. Give me everyt—”
He crushed his mouth to her in a kiss that shot her into orbit. It was frantic, dirty, bordering on sloppy as they attacked each other without finesse. His hand curled around her breast, molding the flesh while she shivered beneath him. It was as though they were trying to consume one another. Trying to absorb the other’s pain and replace it with erotic pleasure.
“Luke,” she said on a gasp as he licked his way to her neck. When he sucked hard on her pulse point, she gripped his hair and held him against her, wanting nothing more than to bear evidence of their desire tomorrow.
Screw wasted no time divesting her of the rest of her clothing. He shoved her pajama pants and panties down, kicking them across the kitchen when they hit the floor. His thick fingers found her entrance as though they were connected by some magnetic force.
“Oh, fuck, you’re wet. You want me, Jazzy? Want me in this pretty pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Want all of me?”
“Yes.”
“Want me even though I’m fucked in the head right now? Want it hard and rough and fast?”
More wetness slid from her body, coating his hand where he played with her. A smirk curled his lips like he didn’t need her to answer because her body had done it for her.
Still….
“Yes, Luke. I want you exactly like that. Fuck yes.” He was alive, safe, and with her, and now she needed her body and heart to understand that as her mind did.
As he fumbled to open his belt and pants, he cursed then said, “Only goddammed time I don’t have a fucking condom on me.”
No doubt, he had plenty in the house, but damn if either of them wanted to take the time to locate one.
Jazz grabbed his arms. “I’m religious about my birth control pill. You and Gumby are the only ones I’ve been with since I’ve been tested.”
He growled and pulled himself out, fisting his cock and giving a few rough tugs. “Got tested before Christmas. Haven’t been with anyone but you two either.”
Her eyes nearly fell out of her head. “Christmas was weeks ago.”
“Fuckin’ know it, baby.”
Holy shit. For most, weeks without sex might not be a newsworthy event, but for Screw…
“Why?” She asked even though her body was screaming at her to shut up so he could fuck her. But she had to know. Because for him to act so out of character had to mean something, right?
He grabbed her ass, hiking her up into his arms with jerky movements. The head of his cock nudged her opening, making her moan and try to thrust her hips forward. But he held her captive. “You know why,” he said in a harsh whisper against her ear as he powered into her.
Jazz cried out at the sudden intrusion. Even as wet as she was, his girth made her need a second to adjust, but he didn’t give it to her.
Instead, he did exactly as she’d asked. He poured every ounce of stress, worry, pain, guilt, and agitation into fucking her.
He pumped hard, thrusting with abandon over and over. He buried his face into her neck, small grunts getting lost in her skin with each animalistic jerk of his hips. For her part, Jazz held him tight, absorbing his aggression. Her back ground into the wall so hard, there’d be bruises on her spine and shoulder blades tomorrow for sure, but damn if it wasn’t worth it, because the pleasure he was wringing from her overrode any and all discomfort.
“Yes, Luke,” she shouted as he tightened his grip on her ass.
She was completely naked while he remained fully dressed. Something about the feel of his pants scratching her thighs made her pussy clench. Maybe it was knowing he wanted her so bad, he couldn’t even get his clothes off.
The room blurred and her mind numbed to everything but the incredible feelings of Screw unleashing his emotion powered lust on her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered a sound, but not enough to give it even a second of her brain power. There were far too many pleasurable sensations to focus on.
“Fuck, baby, you meant it, didn’t you?”
Meant she want
ed all of him?
“Yes, yes, yes.”
She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his strokes increased in strength, hitting something inside her that had her shouting his name.
And then it was…gone.
Every single sensation disappeared.
Jazz’s feet hit the ground with a thud. Her legs buckled, forcing her to reach for Screw.
But he was gone.
Slamming her knees back to keep from falling, she gained control of her legs. “Wha—”
Oh, shit.
Across the kitchen, Screw had Gumby jammed up against the wall, his forearm crushing their lover’s windpipe. His dick was still out, wet from their fucking and semi hard, but he seemed to have lost all desire for sex as he growled.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
Naked and with arousal coating her thighs, Jazz slowly walked over to the two men she was head over heels in love with. “Screw. It’s too much. You’re hurting him.”
Gumby’s face turned a light shade of purple, but he didn’t struggle. Instead, he held Screw’s gaze, calm as could be.
Her words must have gotten through at least a little because he let up enough for Gumby to breathe and begin to speak. But his words were immediately cut off by another growl from Screw.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
HE MUST BE one sick puppy because neither the pissed off man, lack of oxygen, nor pain across his neck did anything to deflate the hard-on Gumby had gotten at the sight of Screw and Jazz’s animalistic fucking.
“Screw,” Jazz said for the second time. She lifted her hands, placing them on the man’s arm where it crushed across his throat.
Finally, the pressure evaporated. Gumby sucked in a giant gulp of air but didn’t move or try to shove Screw away. Instead, he stayed, flattened against the wall, his dick now a spike in his pants.
“Why?” Screw asked in a voice laden with agony and torment.