Screw Read online

  “What can I say, Jazz? The ladies like what they see.”

  She cocked her head, studying him. Were his neediness the only issue, perhaps she could have overlooked it and gone out with the guy, but it wasn’t the only problem. She had mountains of her own issues holding her back.

  “Of course they do,” she said with a wink. “You’re a stud. Anyway, thanks for taking care of the driveway for me. I really appreciate it. I’ve dreaded the thought of shoveling out since the first flake fell.”

  “Why shovel when you can blow?” Jeremy said wagging his eyebrows.

  Jazz laughed. “I’m sure there’s a naughty joke in there somewhere, but I’m not gonna dig too deep for it.” When Jeremy groaned, she laughed again. “See what I did there? Shovel? Dig?”

  “Unfortunately. Your comedy game needs work.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and propelled her toward her door. “Better get that sweet ass inside before it freezes off, Arizona-girl.”

  Jazz dug out her key. “Thanks again, Jeremy.”

  “My pleasure, babe. Long as I’m not out of town I’ll take care of your driveway, okay?”

  God, why couldn’t she be attracted to this guy? He was so damn sweet. “You’re seriously the best, Jeremy,” she said before giving him a peck on the cheek. “I think Mrs. Sampson might actually have an old snow blower out back in the shed,” she said of her land lady. “I went out there once and found a snake staring at me so that was the last time I ventured back there. And I won’t ever be going again.” She shuddered and it had nothing to do with the chill for once. “I’d rather die than find another snake. That shed is off limits to me.”

  Jeremy laughed. He kissed her back then started down her driveway, calling, “Don’t worry, I got your back. Unless I’m out of town, you won’t have to shovel or battle the snakes to look for the snow blower.” With a wave of his hand he reached the sidewalk and turned right toward his own home.

  Monty, the prospect who’d been tasked with following her for the day, stared at him from his truck while chatting away on his phone. For his part, Jeremy glared back then flipped Monty the bird before making his way up his own snow-free driveway.

  Interesting. Jazz would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious why the MC didn’t seem to care for Jeremy. Though she could see how he wouldn’t be such a great fit, she had a feeling the rejection came from more than just the fact Jeremy was a bit…weak. Ugh, just thinking the word made her feel like a bitch.

  Well, none of it was any of her business. Time to get inside and get some coffee brewing to warm herself from the inside out. Just as she shoved the key in the lock, her phone rang. After digging it out of her overstuffed purse she held it to her ear without looking at the screen.

  Her mistake.

  “Crawly, really?” Screw’s disgusted voice entered her ear, stopped at her nipples to perk them up, then continued straight to her pussy which fucking fluttered at the sound.

  Damn him.

  Key still sticking out of her door, Jazz sighed. “What are you talking about, Screwball?”

  “You put your fucking lips on Crawly. Let him put his lips on you.”

  Jazz pinched the bridge of her nose as an ache began to form between her eyes. Of course the pain, it did nothing to squash the arousal brought on by his voice and the memory of another pair of lips on her. A set of lips that she’d given into in one very needy moment a few weeks back.

  Another mistake because now that memory popped up at the most inconvenient times.

  Like now.

  “Okay, buddy, first of all where and on who my lips land is none of your business. And second of all, what the fuck are you talking about? Who the hell is Crawly?”

  Screw practically growled as he said, “Jeremy Crawly. That pansy-assed mother fucker who was on your doorstep five fucking seconds ago.”

  What the…

  Jazz spun, scanning the street for an annoying biker. “You spying on me now?”

  “That the kind of man you’re looking for?”

  He wasn’t on her street. At least not in sight. Screw wasn’t subtle enough to be hiding in the bushes or some nonsense like that. He was too loud and too proud to hide from anyone. Had he actually been there, he’d probably have stormed out the moment she kissed Jeremy’s cheek and laid some ridiculous claim on her.

  Your stomach did not just flutter at the thought of being Screw’s, you stupid silly girl.

  She continued to scan the street, consciously ignoring Screw’s question, and as her eyes passed over the navy truck in front of her house, she scowled. “Really, you traitor?” she yelled at Monty.

  When the prospect shrugged through the foggy windows, she flipped him off then stormed into her house. “Not that I owe you any explanations, asshole, but it was a kiss on the damn cheek to thank him for getting the snow off my driveway before I got home from work. He didn’t want me to do it myself and freeze my tits off. I didn’t see you out there actually doing something for someone else.”

  “I was on my way with my blower when I got called into Copper’s office. He wanted to meet with me but was fine with waiting until I was done at your house. I called Monty to tell him to either sit on you so you wouldn’t shovel or get his lazy ass out of the truck and start shoveling until I got there. He let me know Crawly had already completed the job.”

  If she were in a movie, the background noise would be a whistling sound as the wind left her sails. Every time she put Screw in the box called careless womanizer, he went and did something to surprise her.

  Of course, ninety-nine-point nine percent of the time it was with the end goal of getting laid, which kinda negated the whole good deed thing.

  “Damn you, Screw,” Jazz said as she sagged. Her back hit the closed door with a heavy thud she’d have felt if it weren’t for the thickness of her puffy jacket. “How many times do I have to tell you—”

  “I know you’re not gonna fuck me if I shovel your driveway, Jazzy.”

  “But you thought I’d fuck Jeremy for it?”

  “What? No, shit.” He actually sounded frustrated with himself. “Look, I may like to fuck and it’s no goddamn secret that I want to fuck you, but I’m not an asshole. You hate the cold and live by yourself. You don’t have a blower and there’s about four inches out there. It’d have taken you all goddamned day to shovel, and who the hell knows if Monty is worth anything.”

  “He’s been prospecting for two months.”

  Screw snorted. “That don’t mean shit. The fucker’s got a long way to go before patching in.”

  True enough.

  Jazz sighed and the silence between them grew heavy.

  “A thank you kiss on the cheek, huh?”

  Jazz stared at the ceiling, willing herself to end the call. Just a quick goodbye and the push of one button and this conversation would be over and she could focus on not thinking about Screw for the rest of the day. But did she do that?

  Nope.

  Of course not. That would be logical. Healthy, even.

  “Yes. I’m not interested in Jeremy.” What the hell was wrong with her? Maybe the cold has frozen all the parts of her brain responsible for rational thinking.

  “Good to know,” Screw said.

  Was that relief in his voice?

  Once again silence fell.

  As he said, he’d made no secret about wanting to sleep with her and had been turning up the heat big time lately. Screw was exactly the type she went for. Arrogant to the point of cocky, built as hell, a take-charge man who would no doubt act that way in the bedroom. Screw fucked any and everything that walked, male or female. He made no apologies about the quantity of temporary lovers he had, instead wearing it like a badge of honor. He’d take them one, two, hell, three at a time in any combination of genders, and while the fact he was bisexual didn’t matter to her—okay that was a lie, the thought of him getting it on with another man mattered, but only because she’d had one or two hot as hell fantasies of him and another man going
at it—the cavalier attitude he had toward sex did matter.

  Jazz wasn’t naïve. Nor was she a prude or a virgin. She liked sex as much as the next girl, maybe even more, and she’d had a one-night stand or two, okay, maybe five in her day. But things changed. Life had thrown her one big curveball that dried her sex life up cold. But even when she’d been in a position to be free with her affections, the men she’d been with didn’t have such a who-gives-a-fuck attitude about sex. Nor were they in her inner circle. Sleeping with Screw would be disastrous in the sense that she’d still have to see him every day. She knew herself, and one time with him would never be enough. He was too potent, too charming, too magnetic. Despite her best intentions, she found herself inexplicably drawn to the man and it would only worsen if she let him touch her.

  Hell, one kiss two weeks ago and she couldn’t get the damn man off her mind. What the fuck would happen if she let his cock inside her?

  Maybe it was a good thing she had a concrete reason to say no.

  “You hang up on me?”

  “No.”

  “Jazzy?”

  Her eyes fell closed. “Yeah, Screw.”

  “Take your jacket and your boots off. Unwind from work. I’ll let you go.”

  It was those times when he spoke to her as though he cared that she weakened in her resolve to keep him at arm’s length.

  “Can’t have you falling asleep when I finally get inside you, now can we?”

  And then he killed it.

  Every. Damn. Time.

  “Goodbye, Screw.”

  His inability to remain serious with her was probably for the best. Kept her from doing something stupid like forgetting her own problems. If the idiot ever realized all he had to do to get her was to drop the act and show her the real man, she’d be screwed.

  No pun intended.

  “Bye, Jazzy.”

  “Hey, Screw?” she said, cursing herself for giving into curiosity.

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “Everything okay? With the club…I mean with Copper wanting to talk to you?”

  His heavy sigh was so unlike him, she frowned.

  “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Bye, babe.”

  He disconnected the call and it was a full two minutes later that Jazz realized she was still in her coat and boots. Still leaning against her front door.

  Still frowning at the empty foyer.

  No. He would see. She needed to keep out of his business and not ask how the meeting went next time she saw him.

  As she finally pushed off the door, a flash of heat shot through her alongside the memory of Screw’s lips on hers. His strong hands at her waist.

  “Get out, get out, get out,” she said, hitting the heel of her palm against her forehead. Maybe a hot bath and an early glass of wine would scald him from her memory.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SCREW – 2004, TENNESSEE

  “Do you understand what we’re saying here, Lucas?” Principal Kavanaugh asked. The old dinosaur stared at him with his sausage fingers folded on top of his messy desk. His two chins wiggled like Jell-O when he tilted his head to the side as though he actually gave a fuck. As though Luke was too stupid or too oblivious to notice the way ol’ Kav’s gaze drifted at least a dozen times toward where Luke’s mom sat next to him, no doubt staring at her tits.

  What a fucking joke. He pretended to act all concerned about Luke’s education and shit, yet he was the same as everyone else who tolerated him, hoping for a shot at his mom.

  “Yep. Got it.” Luke slouched in his chair, causing his baggy jeans to ride up, but he didn’t bother fixing them.

  “So you understand this is your last opportunity to turn yourself around?” Kavanaugh’s gaze slid to his mother again before focusing back on Luke. The old bastard seemed nervous. Like he really didn’t want to make the adoring smile Missy—the fucking mother of a student—aimed his way disappear. Hell, the bastard probably had a puddle of rancid sweat pooling between his chins. Was his stubby little dick hard too? Probably.

  “Of course he understands, sir,” Missy said in her sugary voice, so sweet Luke’s teeth were near rotting from hearing it his whole life. For once, wouldn’t it be amazing if she actually meant it? If she was the type of mom who’d take him home, read home the riot act, then ground him for a month? He nearly laughed out loud. What kind of kid wanted to be grounded?

  One craving a parent who loved them.

  “We both understand how generous you’ve been to give my Luke this extra chance to prove he can behave. And we’re so grateful. You must really care about my son.” She leaned forward, giving Kavanaugh an even more prime view of the tits nearly spilling out of her shirt. Luke swore she borrowed her tops from his six-year-old cousin.

  Somehow, he resisted the urge to vomit and kept his face neutral. He could pretend this conversation bored him instead of sickened him.

  Kavanaugh smiled and out popped a third chin in front of the others. The bastard’s wide red nose seemed to spread even farther, those spider web veins becoming even more prominent. His cheeks and the shiny bald spot on the top of his fat head flushed, nearly matching that Rudolph nose.

  “Well, that-that’s just great. I’m glad to hear it, Miss Roulette.”

  Jesus, if this went on any longer, Luke would need to find a fucking drool bib for the guy.

  As though finally remembering the one he was actually supposed to address, Kavanaugh focused on Luke. “This is the fifth time you’ve been in my office this year, son.”

  Son? Jesus fucking Christ. Luke gripped the edge of the armrests to keep from launching out of his chair and slapping the patronizing grin off his principal’s face. Son. Like Missy was gonna see this prick as some sort of fatherly figure for him. What a joke.

  “Per district guidelines, I should have expelled you by now. But I’m giving you another chance. One last chance.” He shook his finger.

  Christ, was this guy for real? Was he supposed to thank him now? Maybe nudge his mom in ol’ Kav’s direction?

  “You humiliated those boys. I can’t keep letting this stuff slide, Lucas. Detention, even suspending you doesn’t seem to be enough. Parents of the other children are starting to get involved. If you do something like this again, I’ll have no choice but to expel you. Do you understand?”

  Luke ran his tongue over his teeth. Had he brushed them that morning? Huh, he couldn’t remember.

  “Lukey?” his mother said, sounding like the most concerned mom to ever have walked the planet.

  Complete horseshit.

  And he understood all right. He understood Kavanaugh was dumb enough to believe giving Luke an extra chance was going to increase his chances of getting his hands on those tits Missy was teasing him with. What Kavanaugh didn’t understand was that Missy was a look-but-don’t-touch kinda gal. She flaunted what she had all over town, leaving a trail of slobbering losers in her wake, but it was nothing more than the ultimate tease. The principal was just another in a long line of horny morons to fall for her shit.

  What a stupid fuck.

  Why the hell would he want a father figure anyway? The last one to grace their lives bailed after stealing Missy’s hard-earned tit-shaking money. Probably went right up his nose.

  “Lukey?” his mother said again, still sounding like she gave many shits about her son, but his time, she dug the spike of her fuck-me heel into his toe. The action occurred under the desk, hidden from Kavanaugh’s sight.

  Jesus, fuck that shit hurt. No wonder men bowed at her feet. Forget the tits, platinum hair, and peek-a-boo shorts, she probably threatened to pop their balls with those spears.

  Well, he had to give them something if he didn’t want to spend the rest of his day in the office. “Yeah, yeah. No more shit. Got it.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him before turning those baby blues—contacts of course, not much on her was real—back on his principal. “There you go, Mr. K. You won’t have any more trouble from him.” She stood and held out her ha
nd, neon blue nails and all.

  “Well thank you, Miss Roulette. I appreciate your involvement. It’s obvious how deeply you care about your son.”

  Oh, gag me with a dick. Missy appreciated one thing and one thing only.

  Attention.

  Well, cash too. Look at that, she cared about two whole things. Progress.

  Kavanaugh stood and took his mother’s hand, holding it far longer than a normal handshake. Her slender cigarette-stained hand nearly disappeared in the giant mitt his principal had. What were the chances that same hand would be stroking the guy’s dick to thoughts of Missy later?

  Pretty damn high.

  “Let’s go, Lukey.”

  Luke stood, slung his worn backpack over his shoulder and got the fuck out of that office without a backward glance. Two days of suspension meant nothing beyond two days of freedom. He could use it. He hadn’t been laid in a few days and the college guy he’d been fucking on the sly had his girlfriend in town for a visit. He claimed she was up for anything including a threesome with a high school junior.

  Perfect way to spend his new free time.

  “Hey, wait up, you little shit,” Missy growled from somewhere behind him.

  Luke rolled his eyes but slowed to a stop before turning to face her. Missy trotted down the hallway, tits bouncing and jiggling all over the place as she teetered on those fucking stilts. The sparkles on her silver tank top nearly blinded him as they caught the florescent lights in the hall. Her red leather mini skirt rose so high, she practically showed off her twat, not that she would have given a shit. It’s what she did for a living, for fucks sake, only with a pole and some seriously bad disco lighting.

  “What?”

  By the time she reached him, she was panting like she’d run a few miles instead of twenty feet down a hallway. Guess shaking it on stage for horny scumbags didn’t do much for the cardio. “G-give me a m-minute,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder as she sucked wind.