Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
His eyes widen, like he’s surprised I’m so interested. Or maybe he’s embarrassed he brought it up. What kind of biker wants to admit he knows anything about makeup?
“Tranquil Sparkle.”
“I know that one! Oh my God, I’m surprised I didn’t recognize her.”
A wary look creeps over his expression. Almost…protective? “She’s been posting older videos as she gets closer to her due date.”
“Wow, you seem to know an awful lot about it.”
He glances at his cup and shakes his head. “I do some of the admin for her channel and monitor her socials and stuff.”
“No way, really?”
“Yeah, Rooster does a lot of the tech stuff for some of the club’s other…businesses.” He pauses and clears his throat. “So, I got into helping him with that.”
“Is that what you do for work?”
He stops as if he really needs to think about the answer. “I do whatever the club needs me to do.”
“So you have a bunch of bosses, not just one?”
“Not at all.” He leans forward and pulls a coaster off the top of a stack in the center of the coffee table. “I’m a biker. We make our own rules. Follow our own laws.”
I lift a brow at the coaster under his coffee cup. “And yet you just used a coaster.”
His lips twitch with amusement. “I’m a biker. Not a heathen.” He twists his body so he’s facing me. “And I’m a guest in the space of someone I like.”
He means me. “Oh,” I whisper.
“So, I don’t punch a time card or work a normal nine-to-five. But yes, I do answer to my club.”
“And don’t do relationships.” I remind him of his earlier statement.
“Right. I’m free to do what I want—”
“Do who you want?” I arch a brow.
His lips curl into a knowing smirk. “That too.”
Perfect segue to return to why he’s really here. “Well, if it eases your concerns, I like you too. But I don’t want to date you, Jigsaw.”
His face pinches into a warning scowl but I continue anyway.
“I want you to teach me how to…fuck.” My voice falters on the curse. Damn. Lost my grip on my big girl panties there.
Ignoring my embarrassment, I lift my chin and stare him in the eyes.
His trying to scare me away face softens. “Little lady death,” he murmurs. Reaching out, he traces one finger against the curve of my cheek. “So brave and fierce.”
“Me?” My voice rises to a squeak.
“This could be dangerous. You have no idea what you’re asking.” That sly smile curls his lips again. “What if I’m into some sick, kinky shit?”
Why hadn’t that occurred to me? Everything about him screams unconventional. What if that also applies to the bedroom? My friend April has told me more than a few horror stories about some of the guys she’s gone out with and the weird things they wanted to do to her.
“I…uh…I just want to learn the basics.” I flick my gaze to the ceiling. “I mean, I know what to do. Just help me improve my…skills. Teach me about what men like.” I narrow my eyes. “And who are you calling little lady death?”
“I don’t want to mess up our arrangement.” He gestures to our surroundings. “This is a business deal for my club.”
“So?”
“You need me to spell it out for you?” He blows out an annoyed breath and shifts to the other side of the cushion. His hard gaze continues to drill into my face. “If you catch…feelings, it’s gonna make things awkward.”
“Catch feelings?” I cross my arms over my chest and shoot him my sharpest glare. As if he’s so irresistible. “What if you’re the one who catches feelings?”
He snorts. “Not possible.”
“I’m that repulsive?”
His cocky expression fades. “Not at all.” He rakes his gaze over my body and lowers his voice to an obscene lion-like purr. “Not. At. All.”
Jigsaw
Flustered Margot is even more fun than high-as-fuck Margot. But not quite as hot as teach-me-to-fuck Margot. This woman’s ten different personalities inside one small package and I’m loving each one.
Liking. Not loving.
Never that.
“How much education do you think you need?” I ask just to see her scandalized eyes widen. “Hand jobs 101? Advanced blow job technique? A seminar on reverse cowgirl? A master class on anal? What skills are you looking to improve?”
Her eyes bug and she dry heaves at anal. Guess that’s not a skill she wants to learn. I take a sip of my coffee to hide my laughter while I wait for her answer.
“The basics. I want to start from the ground up. Give me an idea of what men today expect.” She frowns. “No master classes. Nothing in my butt.”
I choke on my laughter. “You realize, what men expect and what I expect might be different. I’m not really in the habit of running around asking every man I meet how he likes to fuck.”