Down & Dirty_Jag

by Jeanne St. James

  Ivy found it difficult to swallow as she stared at the man above her. Where was this biker pulling out finesse like this to actually make love to her?

  Never in her life had she been made love to. It had only ever been sex, a mutual physical satisfaction. Even with Adam, who stuck around longer than most guys, she wouldn’t allow emotions to get tangled up between them.

  But this tattooed, badass biker knew just how to move his hips. He wasn’t just slamming her hard. No. He was drawing out her responses gently. He was forcing her to keep eye contact, to keep a connection.

  He wasn’t playing fair.

  Not at all.

  “Nobody else in here, baby. Nobody but me. Got me?” he said softly.

  She opened her mouth, however, nothing but a gasp escaped as he thrust and held it, grinding deep, making her squirm.

  “Got me, Ivy?”

  No. No. He was not going to claim her. He was not going to own her. She was not going to end up an ol’ lady. Jag’s or anyone else’s.

  No, she was not.

  “Jag...”

  “Mine, baby.”

  Panic started to claw at her. She couldn’t allow this connection to happen. “Jag... Fuck me.”

  “I am.”

  No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t. He was fucking with her head. He needed to stop with the sweet stuff and just get down to business... getting them both off.

  That’s the only reason she had slipped into bed with him after her shower.

  “Jag, don’t do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

  “Do what, baby?” he murmured against her neck, his hips moving slow, coaxing a response from her. The heat of his breath beat against her skin.

  “What you’re doing.”

  “What am I doin’?”

  Oh, shit, he was destroying her. That’s what he was doing. Peeling away the hard layers that she had put in place to keep him and any other biker out of her heart. They weren’t like this. They weren’t.

  They weren’t loving and caring.

  He was just trying to soften her up enough that he could claim her, then he’d change back into his real self. The misogynistic asshole who treated women like property like the rest of them.

  Because even though she loved them and considered them family, they were all just that.

  “Harder, Jag.”

  “’Kay, baby.”

  But he didn’t go any harder.

  “Rougher, Jag. Faster. Give it to me good.”

  “Givin’ it to you.”

  No, he wasn’t.

  “Fuck me like you mean it.”

  He finally lifted his head and shifted to look down into her eyes. “Mean everythin’ I’m givin’ you, baby.”

  That’s what she was afraid of.

  “Please, Jag, don’t make this special,” she begged, then bit her lip when he stilled, his body tense above her.

  “Just a dick in your bed, that what you want? Just like any other dick in your bed? Gettin’ you off? That what you want, Ivy?” He slammed his cock deep once, and they both grunted with the impact. “That what you want? Hard, fast, an’ furious? Just a fuck?”

  She winced at his words. “Yes. That’s what I want. That’s the only thing I want from you.”

  His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. “Goddamn, you’re a fuckin’ bitch, Ivy.”

  She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. “Just fuck me, get me off, and then get the fuck out.” It came out softer than she meant it to, but it still had the same effect as if she had spit it in his face.

  He went so solid, he didn’t even breathe. But she couldn’t open her eyes, she couldn’t look at him.

  She just couldn’t.

  Then he was off her but before she could open her eyes, he flipped her onto her belly and yanked her hips up until she was on her knees. “Can’t stand to look at me? Fine. Play it your way.” He slammed into her hard and she gasped. “Wanna get off? Fine. So do I.” He rammed her deep again. Then again. There was nothing soft about his movements now. “Just want me to be a dick? I can be a dick. More ways than one.” Now it was just raw fucking, just physical contact. Nothing more. “Got you, Ivy.”

  She should be relieved. But she wasn’t.

  The breath rushed out of her every time he thrust hard. He grunted, slapped her ass, moving faster, rougher, making sure what he did couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a fuck.

  “That what you want? Just to use my dick? Well, you got it, babe. You get my dick an’ nothin’ else.” He shoved her face down, keeping his large hand at the back of her head, pinning her into the pillow, not letting her move. Not that she struggled. She had no need to. She took every slam of his hips against her. Though she wasn’t going to get off that way, not from behind. Not like this. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  She wasn’t going to ask for anything more from him than what he was giving her.

  This was what she wanted, asked for. Wasn’t it?

  She reached between her legs pressing two fingers against her clit, circling, wanting to get off before he did. Because it was obvious with the anger making his body tight, he wasn’t going to wait for her to come.

  At this point, he was in no way concerned with her being taken care of.

  He grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard, and yanked it away from herself. “That what you want, Ivy? To just get off?”

  He took over, roughly pushing his thumb against her, circling, pressing and she cried out.

  “Wanna come, Ivy?”

  “Yes,” she hissed as she took the brunt of his thrusts and the rough handling of her sensitive clit.

  This is what she expected from him from the beginning. Not that sweet, caring stuff.

  “I feel you tightenin’ around my dick, squeezin’ me. You close?”

  She was afraid to tell him that she was. She feared he’d pull out and leave her hanging to prove a point. “No. Fuck me harder.”

  “Liar,” he grunted, slamming her faster, their skin slapping together. “You just wanna be pussy, Ivy? Just a hole to bust a nut in?”

  No, damn it, that’s not what she wanted. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. “Jag...”

  “Shut up, Ivy. You said enough.”

  Chapter Four

  Jag sat on the end of the bed and dragged a hand through his hair. He was doing everything he could not to look over his shoulder at Ivy.

  He wanted to strangle her, that’s what he wanted to do. Knock some fucking sense into her.

  The stubborn woman was always searching for the wrong thing. Always chasing the wrong type of guy. She seemed determined to buck her fate.

  What she didn’t realize was that there was no way she could end up permanently with someone like the men she brought home. The geeks, the nerds, the pussies.

  They could never satisfy her in the end. Her personality would roll over them. It was one reason they never stuck around long. Jag intimidating them was another. Though, it wasn’t just him that pushed them away. She couldn’t drag a non-biker to club pig roasts and parties and expect them to fit in. Or even feel comfortable.

  Ivy was Dirty Angels MC through and through. It was in her blood as much as it was in Jag’s. The same as it was her uncle’s or her cousins’, or even Dex and Bella’s.

  Though, he hated to admit it, he’d waited a long time for his shot with her. Way too long. And he was not a man who had a lot of patience. Especially when it came to that spitfire.

  He’d watched her through the years desperately trying to avoid ending up with one of the brothers. Did he understand why?

  Yeah. Sorta.

  Was he going to accept it? Fuck no.

  When the day finally came that she admitted she belonged to the club in every way possible, she couldn’t belong to just any one of them. No fucking way.

  She was his.

  She’d always been his. All the way back to when they were kids and she had a crush on Zak, who’d never make a move on her. Whether she realized it
or not, no other brother, or even prospect, would ever approach her, even if she wanted them to.

  It was called respect. And it was the glue that bonded the brotherhood.

  And, as for respect, Ivy wasn’t showing him any right now. Nothing new, though, he was used to it.

  But that wasn’t what bothered him. What stuck in his craw was that he finally had his chance with her when they weren’t drunk and she turned something that could’ve been good into something ugly. It was nothing more than a transaction for her.

  He stared down at his hands which were curled into fists on his thighs and blew out a breath.

  He needed to get dressed, walk out, and slam the door behind him without so much as a see-ya-the-fuck-later. Cleanse her poison from his system.

  He needed to get over her and move the fuck on.

  But fuck him, he couldn’t.

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Ah fuck, Ivy.”

  “Don’t make this into something it’s not, Jag.”

  His jaw tightened and he could barely get out, “Tell me what it is then.”

  “Nothing.”

  Nothing. This was nothing to her. He was nothing.

  He jumped to his feet and rounded the bed to where she sat back against the headboard. He stared down at her.

  Something flickered behind her eyes as she met his.

  She was so full of shit.

  This wasn’t nothing.

  This was everything. And it scared her.

  “If it’s nothing, why’d you break into my room?”

  She shrugged a bare shoulder. “We already had this discussion.”

  “If it’s nothing, why’d you climb into bed with me after your shower?”

  “It’s my bed.”

  “You don’t want me that bad, you gotta spare room.”

  “I just wanted to get off.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Yeah, you got that.”

  “Yes, I did.” She raised her hand toward the door. “Now you can leave.” She dropped her hand into her lap. “And anyway, I probably stink again, so I don’t want to offend your sensitive olfactory system.”

  He frowned. His what?

  “Your nose,” she clarified.

  “Smell like me now. Left me on you. I can live with that.”

  “Maybe it’s a smell I can’t live with and need to wash it off me.”

  Sometimes she just acted like a cold fucking bitch.

  But inside... inside he knew she wasn’t. Inside she burned as hot as the color of her hair. She just didn’t burn for him.

  And once again, it hit him that he needed to get dressed and get gone. From her apartment. From her life.

  But before he left, he needed to show her the error of her ways. Or at least try to make another attempt.

  Show her what she’d be missing if he walked out the door and never came back. Yeah, they’d see each other at church. Yeah, it’d be hard to ignore each other completely. And it would be bad for him when she dragged her next nerdy conquest to a club party.

  So, if he couldn’t have her again after today, he wanted to make it good enough that neither of them would forget.

  Not like the fuck that they just did. It could’ve been any woman under him earlier. And Ivy wasn’t just any woman.

  “You just going to stand there with your junk hanging out? Or you going to get dressed and get gone?”

  “Not goin’ anywhere. We’re gonna do this right an’ then I’ll leave.”

  “What do you mean, do it right? We just did it.”

  He climbed onto the bed and went face to face with her. “We’re going to do this right, babe.”

  “I don’t see—”

  He cut off her words when he took her mouth hard. Taking advantage of her surprised gasp, he shoved his tongue between her lips to tangle with hers. A noise rose from the back of her throat.

  He didn’t care if it was a complaint or encouragement. This time they were doing it his way.

  She grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh. He flinched but didn’t let up. Instead, he straddled her legs while burying his hands into her hair, holding her still.

  Then she bit his bottom lip, he jerked back, tasting blood.

  Her body was tense, her eyes narrowed and before she could bitch him out, he claimed her mouth again. But not before saying, “Mine,” against her lips.

  He explored the inside of her mouth, hoping she didn’t bite his tongue off. Because that would suck.

  But she didn’t. The longer he kissed her, the softer she became, her nails raking down his back, this time not in anger, and it made him hard for her. When her hands slid up his back, she didn’t stop until she had fistfuls of his hair.

  He waited for the painful tug. But it didn’t come. And when she moaned into his mouth, he knew he had her.

  He had her.

  Her fingers curled against his scalp and with a tilt of her head, she took the kiss deeper.

  This. This is what he wanted from her.

  He pulled back enough to grumble, “Gonna do this the way we should’ve earlier. On your back, then you on top.”

  Her eyes were unfocused, her lips swollen and shiny, and damn, he wanted them wrapped around his dick.

  When he shifted to put her on her back, she slipped quickly from under him. Before he could grab her, she shoved a hand against his chest and pushed him down, then settled between his legs.

  Yes. She’d read his mind.

  When her hot, wet mouth encircled him, he threw his head back and barked, “Fuck,” at the ceiling. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as her tongue did some wicked fucking dance over his length and down to his balls.

  Holy mother fuck.

  His breath caught and he lifted his head enough to see her thick, red hair spread across his lap. He grabbed a handful of it and rubbed the silkiness over his stomach. Satin. Warm satin. Just like her pussy.

  As her teeth scraped along the head of his cock, his hips jerked and he slammed a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck!”

  But it was when he parted her mass of fiery hair so he could see her face, when she tilted her eyes up to his and held them as her cheeks hollowed out, he just about lost his shit.

  That sight was going to be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. If he walked out of there today and never saw her again, this is what he’d remember. Her red hair, her green eyes, her lips stretched around him.

  Goddamn heaven, it was.

  And then she squeezed his balls...

  He fought with himself on whether he wanted to just come down her throat or fuck her again. He wanted both, but he knew he may not get that choice.

  He had to take what he could get, what she was willing to give him at that very moment. Because even though now she was eager, hot and bothered, in a few minutes, she might turn cold as ice.

  And he didn’t want the Ivy he had right that minute to disappear. He had to keep her as long as he could.

  But it wasn’t him that made the decision on how to finish. It was her as she moved away and went to the open box of condoms, snagging one and tossing it onto his chest.

  Her voice was thick when she urged him to hurry.

  He usually didn’t take orders from any woman. But this was one he’d allow. He might be a hard-headed biker, but he wasn’t stupid.

  He tore the wrapper open, rolled the condom on and before he could raise his gaze, she was there... Pushing away his hands, mounting him, then sliiiiiiiding slowly down his cock.

  Holy mother fuck.

  And when she finally had him fully inside her, she stilled, closed her eyes, and he could feel her pulsating around him, the warm, wet silk of her pussy squeezing him tight.

  He flexed his dick deep inside her and her eyes popped open, a smile crossing her lips as she met his gaze.

  Then, suddenly it hit him that she’d done this with other men. Been on top like this, looked exactly like this with someone other than him. More like with many someones. And he had
to squeeze his eyes shut to let the fury run through him. Otherwise they would be back to where they were earlier. Just two bodies fucking and getting off.

  He was determined it wouldn’t be like that this time. He needed to remember that. He needed to concentrate on this moment. This time, this place.

  “Jag,” she whispered, and he opened his eyes to see hers with a question in them. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

  “Yeah,” he said just as softly, trying to keep the anger from his face.

  Her brows furrowed. “Then why does it look like someone kicked your puppy?”

  He sucked a hard breath through his nostrils. “Ain’t nothin’.”

  When she started to move, he couldn’t help but let the anger go. He reminded himself that he’d been no angel, either. In fact, he’d done some stupid shit when it came to other women... like letting Goldie ride him on the couch in front of everyone, including Ivy and the man-boy she was dragging around that night.

  Ivy’s tits bouncing as she rose and fell on his dick took him out of his thoughts. They weren’t huge, or heavy, but they were big enough to fit his hands perfectly and they were the perkiest tits he ever saw. He cupped them in his palms and ran his thumbs over the tightly beaded tips.

  Since it caused her mouth to part, and her eyes to darken, he did it again. Then he rolled them between his fingers and pulled. Her fingers clamped around his wrists tightly and she encouraged him to pinch her nipples harder, to twist them roughly and he did.

  Fuck.

  No other man’s hands belonged on her tits. On her body. No other cock but his belonged inside her.

  He bucked his hips up and knocked her off balance, then twisted until she was now under him. He slid deep inside her and stilled, meeting her green eyes.

  Then he thrust slowly, all the way in, all the way out until he barely nudged her with the tip.

  “Jag,” she breathed.

  “Like that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Yeah she did. So did he.

  All the way inside her, then all the way back out, teasing her opening with the crown again.

  “Fuck,” she groaned.

  He did it once more. This time staying outside of her warmth for a beat. She squirmed against him, pushed her hips up.

  “Jag,” she moaned.