Down & Dirty_Jag

by Jeanne St. James

  All the way in. All the way out. Even though she tried to follow his movement, not let him escape, he did. He pulled out and away. Far enough she couldn’t impale herself, which she was trying desperately to do.

  This time when he seated himself into her heat, he stayed deep within her. He pressed his face into her neck, his breath ragged. His movements might be driving her crazy, but they were pushing his limits, too.

  She squirmed beneath him, whimpering, clawing at his ass, trying to get him to continue.

  When he finally moved, he found a rhythm that was slow, complete. It wasn’t hard or fast or rough. It was what he did earlier when he wanted to show her how good it could be between them. That they were made for each other, how well they fit together.

  This time she let him have his way, shifting her hips with his, wrapping her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear, “That’s it, Jag. Oh, God, that feels so good.”

  Surrounded by her wet heat, his brain turned to mush and his thoughts spun as he listened to her sweet voice egging him on.

  Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs as she arched beneath him. Then his balls tightened as she breathed his name against his skin.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  This was his Ivy. “Ah, fuck, baby.”

  “Make me come, Mick.”

  His hips hiccupped at the use of his real name. One he hadn’t heard since they were little. In fact, a name most people didn’t even know existed.

  One his parents thought would be “cool” to name him since it was after the rock star.

  His heart squeezed painfully. “You tryin’ to forget who I am?”

  She drew her fingers down his spine and grabbed a handful of his ass. “No.”

  “Tryin’ to make me into somethin’ I’m not?”

  “No, Jag. Fuck me. Please.”

  He dragged his tongue down her neck and sucked a tight nipple into his mouth. He flicked at the tip, then lifted his head. “What’s my name?”

  She hesitated, but finally breathed, “Jag.”

  He rolled the now wet nipple between his thumb and forefinger and moved to tease the other one with his mouth. He ground his hips against her making her toss her head back and wail, clenching tightly around him.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  “Say my name.”

  “Jag.”

  “Again.”

  “Jag.”

  “Fuck, baby. Say it again.”

  She released another low wail, wiggling her hips beneath him, encouraging him to move faster. “Jag.”

  Fuck that. He was taking his sweet fucking time.

  No matter what she said, what she did, she wasn’t going to change that. He had never taken it this slow with anyone before. And he had to admit, it wasn’t easy. Especially with Ivy, who drove him nuts in more ways than one.

  “Jag, please.”

  He shoved his face into her neck and smiled as he continued on his slow, steady rhythm. He inhaled her scent and locked it into his memory. He slid a hand between them, finding where they were joined and tweaked her clit, then circled it with his thumb.

  She tightened down on him and he had to fight the urge to move faster, to make it to the end as soon as he could. It took everything he had not to take them over the edge as quickly and fiercely as possible.

  “Damn you,” she groaned, arching her neck back.

  He sucked the skin at the base of her throat, then murmured, “Want me to stop?”

  Ivy went still beneath him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  He grinned against her ivory skin as her legs tightened around his hips. But the grin quickly turned into a hiss when she clenched her muscles around his dick tight. Then she did it again.

  And again.

  Ah fuck, she was playing dirty.

  His balls pulled tight when she did it again.

  Even though he had stopped thrusting, her actions were about to make him blow his load.

  Was she that worked up or did she just want this to be over?

  He hoped it wasn’t the latter. Because, fuck him, he was in deep. And not his dick, either. It was more than that. It always had been.

  Fucking Ivy.

  He worked his thumb faster, circling her clit. She clenched down so tightly on him he muttered a curse then gave up all control, pounding her hard and fast and finally giving her what she wanted.

  “Yessss,” she hissed, digging her nails into the flesh of his ass. “That’s it, Jag. Right there. Oh, right... there.” Her hips tilted it up and she cried out, “I’m coming,” as her orgasm radiated around him.

  And fuck him, those words were his undoing. He thrust once more and let loose deep inside her. “Me, too, baby.” And for once in his life he wished he wasn’t wearing a condom. He wanted to make her his completely.

  Moments later, he peeled himself off her, sliding to her side, attempting to catch his breath, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly as she tried to control hers.

  She stared up at the ceiling as she confessed, “I don’t sleep with bikers.”

  Was she trying to convince herself or him?

  Jag drew a sharp breath through his nose. “Know that, babe.”

  “Not one.”

  Well, one. But he got where she was going with it.

  “Then you happened.”

  His chest got tight. He assumed she was talking about that first time with their drunken hookup. “Sorry for you, baby, that it happened. But it did. No takin’ it back.” He twisted his head toward her. “Was it so bad?”

  “No, that’s the problem,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

  He fought back a grin. “Don’t sound like a problem to me.”

  “It wouldn’t,” she answered softly.

  “When’s the last time you had it that good?”

  She pursed her lips before saying, “It’s all what you make of it.”

  His eyebrows pinned together. “Whadaya mean?”

  She covered her eyes with her hand. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment trying to keep his shit together. It was a losing battle. Finally, he grumbled, “Fuckin’ goddamnit, Ivy, let me in.”

  “I can’t,” she said so softly, he almost didn’t hear it.

  It wasn’t that she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. Which ticked him off even more. “If I was someone named Mick, would you?”

  Would she accept a guy named Mick Jamison instead of Jag Jamison? It wasn’t the name itself, it was the possibilities of the man behind the name. If he wasn’t DAMC, would he go by Mick instead of Jag?

  Who fucking knows. But no matter what, he was DAMC. Always was, always will be. That would never change whether she accepted it or not.

  She lifted her hand from her face and her eyes slid to him. “Maybe. If you were Mick. But you’re not.” She rolled onto her side and went face to face with him. “But you’re not Mick. You’re Jag because you’re a brother. And as a brother, you’re a part of this club. As a brother, you treat women like property. As a brother, you keep shit from us, you dictate to us. You treat your fucking bikes better. In this club, it’s better to have an engine than a vagina.”

  He frowned at the trace of pain in her voice, the hurt in her words. “Bullshit.”

  Throughout the years, there were plenty of brothers who loved their ol’ ladies. Once a woman was established as an ol’ lady they were treated with respect. Yeah, they were supposed to be kept out of club business, though Jag was sure some shit slipped out during pillow talk, but for the most part, they were kept in the dark from things that didn’t concern them.

  Some ol’ ladies revered their status. Wore their ol’ man’s cut with pride. A lot of the women, whether sweet butts or others, who hung around church, did so to try to get in good with one, find a permanent spot on the back of a bike. Some brothers even married their ol’ ladies, like Zak was going to do with Sophie.

  Not that h
e blamed his cousin there. Sophie was worth keeping. Loyal, smart, sexy, successful, everything Jag was looking for in an ol’ lady, too.

  If he was going to be tied down with a ball and chain, it had to be the right one.

  And he was lying naked next to the one who had everything he was looking for. He could see himself waking up next to her every morning and falling asleep after they fucked every night.

  But if she was looking for him to be Mick, an average Joe, someone he was not, instead of Jag, she’d never accept him.

  He was not changing for anyone. Even her.

  They grew up together, so she’d never known him to be anyone other than Jag. He was DAMC through and through.

  And whether she wanted to admit it or not, so was she.

  “Think Z treats his bike better than Sophie?” When she didn’t answer he continued, “Think Ace treats Janice like property?”

  “Bella—” she started, but he cut her off.

  “That shit ain’t right no matter who you are, Ivy. Can’t use that as a comparison.”

  “It happens,” she said softly to the ceiling.

  “Yeah, it happens.” He sucked in a breath to bring up something she did last night while she was wasted. Something she may not remember but was going to have to deal with. “Speaking of Z, you started hangin’ all over him. Sophie hears about that shit, she ain’t gonna be happy.”

  “Fuck,” she groaned and put a hand over her eyes, rocking her head back and forth.

  “Yeah, ‘fuck.’ Was bad, Ivy. You’re lucky she’s a nice girl. Anyone else, you’d get a knife in your ribs. The sisterhood only goes so far when you’re fuckin’ with a bitch’s old man.”

  “I need to apologize to her.”

  “Wouldn’t say a word unless she comes to you. Hear me?”

  She nodded, still staring at the ceiling. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  Jag closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “Z did. Was nice about it. I stop you, it ain’t gonna be nice. No matter what, you gotta get your shit together. You’re outta control.”

  “I’m not out of control.”

  “I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  She turned her head toward him, her eyes flashing. “Who thinks I’m out of control?”

  “People concerned, that’s all, Ivy. Need to settle down.”

  Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Settle down? With who? You?”

  “Know you’ve had a crush on Z forever.” Shouldn’t be so painful for him to say it, but it was.

  Her body jerked next to him. “Jesus. When we were kids.”

  Jag snorted. “Right. Thinkin’ that’s why you’re so restless when it comes to dick. Won’t be happy until you get Zak, even though he’s already got an ol’ lady he’s crazy over.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, Jag. That’s not it at all.”

  “I’m wonderin’. An’ if that’s true, then I never had a shot.”

  Goddamn, he just said too much.

  She stilled. “You want me to be your ol’ lady, Jag?”

  Oh, that was a fucking trap. He wasn’t going to answer that. Because his answer was sure to come back to bite him.

  Fucking Ivy.

  She was setting him up for a slam dunk. And he wasn’t going to play that game.

  No way.

  His lips thinned and he looked away.

  When he refused to answer she finally said, “I don’t need a man. I’m smart and I’m quite capable of doing things for myself.”

  “Know you are, but don’t mean you should.”

  “Not looking to get tied down, Jag. With you. With any of the brothers.”

  He pushed himself up to a seat and looked down at her. “Yeah. You’re makin’ that clear.” Then he climbed out of bed to find his jeans and boxer briefs. After jamming his legs into them, he zipped his fly and fastened his silver DAMC belt buckle. He didn’t glance up until he was done.

  Ivy had sat up in bed, the sheet tucked around her chest. But she was watching him.

  Yeah, she was. So he took his time looking for his T-shirt and moved even slower when he pulled it over his head, making sure she didn’t miss a thing. He snagged his cut, which was thrown over a chair and shrugged into it.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. She looked good enough to kiss.

  Fuck, she looked good enough to eat.

  But he had enough of her shit for today. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to keep chipping away at her hard, stubborn exterior.

  “Next time you got an itch for dick an’ you ain’t drunk, call me. Don’t be sleepin’ with strange, Ivy. It’s dangerous.” With that he stood and walked over to her nightstand, picked up the open condom box and counted.

  Eight.

  “Better be eight in that box when you call me to come take care of your business. Got me?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she watched him toss the box onto the bed next to her. Then he strode out of her bedroom, snagged his boots on his way out of her apartment, and slammed the door without even a goodbye.

  Chapter Five

  Ivy sat perched on the desk at Shadow Valley Body Works, where Jewel ran the office.

  Even though Jag worked there, she was hoping she didn’t run into him today. Not with how they left it last Sunday.

  But she brought her girl some lunch, and she wasn’t going to be able to avoid Jag forever. Plus, even though she might be nuts, she was actually thinking about taking him up on his offer. Or more like demand.

  She wasn’t looking to be tied down, so as long as he didn’t make a play for her to be his ol’ lady, what was wrong with them knockin’ boots every once in a while? No one had to know but them, right?

  Right.

  And the guy was good in bed, too. That was a plus.

  A big one.

  If she had to admit it, probably the best she’d had in a while. Adam was good but Adam was no Jag.

  Though, Adam wasn’t really into biting and nails. She bet Jag would eat that shit up. As well as probably give as good as he gets.

  Heat rushed through her at the thought.

  Just then, Crash did what he did best and crashed through the door between the shop and the office. He stopped short when he saw Ivy.

  Then he looked down at the burgers and fries they both had in front of them. His golden-brown eyes popped back up to her with a frown. “Brought Bangin’ Burgers for Jewel, but none for the rest of us?”

  Ivy felt heat rush into her cheeks. In truth, she hadn’t even thought about it. “It was a last-minute thing. I didn’t have time to get an order together.”

  “That’s just wrong, Ivy. You know we love that shit. Can I have your fries, Jewelee?”

  Jewel quickly covered her fries with her hands and hunched over her desk, protecting her food. “No! You know I love this shit, too. Get gone, Crash.”

  “What the fuck,” he muttered, his eyes narrowed. “That’s just cold.”

  “No, what’s gonna be cold is my fries if you don’t leave me alone.”

  With a grunt, he turned on his heel, heading back out to the shop.

  “I wonder what he needed?” Ivy asked, watching his retreating back. She made a face when she saw the man was wearing his dirty-blond hair in a man-bun again. Ugh. Man buns. Sure, he had to keep his long, luscious hair out of his face when he worked... but still. Ivy shuddered.

  Jewel shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. They bug me all day for no reason.” She shoved a fry in her mouth. “Mmm. No way I’m sharing any of these fries. They give me a damn orgasm.”

  Ivy laughed, dragging one of hers through a puddle of ketchup and popping it into her mouth. She agreed, they were some of the best burgers and fries in the area. Angus beef. Hand cut fries. Just a whole lot of yum. “Guess I should’ve at least stopped at the bakery and brought a dozen cupcakes from Sophie’s.” And while there, felt out whether Sophie knew about her hanging all over her man at the party.

  Jewel’s eyes lit up. “Oh, dam
n, yes. Though, between this and a cupcake, it would wreak havoc on my hips.”

  “You’ve got great hips. The kind a man likes to grab on to in bed.”

  “Oh fuck. Didn’t just hear that about my sister,” came the grumble from the doorway.

  Ivy’s head twisted that direction, a napkin pressed to her mouth. Oh fuck was right.

  Whether the man was in jeans, a tee, and his leather cut, or he was wearing blue work coveralls, he looked damn good. And the color of his coveralls brought out the blue in his eyes. Those eyes which were traveling down her body and making her toes curl.

  Double oh fuck.

  She tossed the napkin on the desk and crossed her arms over her chest to cover her now hard nipples. Not that he missed them. Which was quite obvious when his lips curled into a sexy smile.

  “Crash is out there bitchin’ up a storm ‘bout you bringin’ food from Bangin’ Burgers an’ not askin’ us.”

  “She’s not obligated to bring you guys shit,” Jewel told her brother. Then she leaned toward Ivy, whispering loudly, “Need to put a lock on that damn door to shut them out of my office.”

  Ivy bit back her smile, which was quickly lost when Jag approached and pressed against her to snag her burger. Her eyes followed it as he lifted it to his mouth and took a big bite out of it.

  What. The. Fuck.

  “Well, that’s fucking rude, Jag,” Jewel said, shoving her own burger in her mouth then rolling her eyes in ecstasy.

  “No, was rude that she forgot the rest of us,” Jag said around a second bite of her burger. Then he laid it back onto the open burger wrapper and grabbed her fresh-squeezed lemonade and slurped a third of it through the straw into his gut.

  “Excuse you,” Ivy said, whacking him on the arm. “I don’t want your backwash.”

  Jag cocked an eyebrow at her. “You worried ‘bout my spit now?”

  Jewel set down her burger. “What does that mean?”

  Ivy frowned at Jag. “Nothing.”

  Jag gave her a cocky smile before snagging two fries and dipping them into her ketchup.

  Then he wrapped his long, warm fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her closer, leaning down to murmur into her ear, “Haven’t gotten that call yet, baby.”

  Shock waves rushed through her and her nipples peaked even harder under her shirt. He gave her a squeeze before releasing her and straightening. He grabbed two more fries and turned to leave.