Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

Margot

It's not easy to meet Jigsaw's intense stare but I can't close my eyes either. He's impressive in his intensity—chest heaving, cheeks flushed, dark gaze focused on my face.

He kneels on the bed in front of me and lazily drags his fingers up and down my calves. Like he's trying to soothe a skittish rabbit. His eyes never leave my face, though. Constantly observing my reactions.

He presses a kiss to one knee, then traces his tongue along the ticklish crease.

"That tickles." I shake with laughter, my legs falling apart a few inches.

"Mmm." He licks and nibbles along the inside of my knee and up my thigh. "Open for me."

His low voice and gentle but insistent touch shoot a surge of lust straight to my center, shoving my shyness out of the way. My knees fall open.

He sucks in a sharp breath and stares for so long, I squeeze my eyes shut. "You're beautiful," he breathes out. Rough, warm hands skate along my inner thighs. "Eyes open, Margot."

"So, what do I do?" Weird how I sound so breezy and confident when my insides are fluttering and churning.

"What do you mean?" He casually rests his palms on my legs, his thumbs tracing the crease of my thighs, sharpening my desire.

"To be good at receiving?" I ask, my heart jumping like a frog in a frying pan. It's so embarrassing that I have to ask.

"Whatever feels good to you."

"That's not helpful."

He blows out a frustrated breath, the air caressing my skin. "If it feels good, say so. If you like something say, ‘give me more.'" He flashes a wicked grin. "If it feels so good you can't form any words, tug on my hair." His expression smooths into something more serious. "If you don't like something, tell me to stop. Or smack my head."

My eyes widen in horror. "I'm not going to smack you."

His lips quirk at the corners. "Just give me some signals." His eyebrows dip like he just had a revelation. "There's no wrong way to enjoy yourself, Margot."

That message finally sinks in. I stare into his eyes and only find the desire to please. "Fifteen minutes?"

"You're not setting a timer, are you?" Both exasperation and humor color the question.

I turn my head and glance at the small digital clock on my nightstand. "Nine-fifteen."

"You won't be able to form the words nine-thirty once I get my mouth on you," he mutters, clearly seeing this as a challenge.

A challenge I really want him to win. He's so confident I'll love his mouth exploring my most intimate places, I don't want to disappoint him.

"Most importantly," he says. "Don't fake anything with me. I'd rather have you tell me something isn't working for you, than have you lie."

"I won't," I whisper.

"Good girl." He pushes himself up and leans over my body. "Now, come here and kiss me."

I meet him halfway. Our lips fusing together for a few delicious seconds.

Then he reaches behind me and grabs a pillow. "Lift up for me."

"What? Why?" I ask, even as I dig my heels into the bed and raise my hips.

He methodically pushes the pillow under me, adjusting it until it's even under my hips. "It'll be more comfortable for both of us."

Heat from both embarrassment and desire licks over my skin as I lower myself to the pillow. The awestruck expression on his face—like he's extremely pleased with what's exposed to him—allows desire to drown out my discomfort.

He stretches out on his stomach and hooks his arms under my legs, dragging me closer.

The first brush of his tongue against my skin sends an electric jolt up my spine. I let out a moan of appreciation.

"Good girl." His low, gravelly voice whispering words of praise sends another shiver of pleasure through me. Warm breath pulses against my skin. He dips his head and licks in slow, soft strokes that leave me squirming with desire.

"I…I like that," I whisper in shaky, halting breaths.

He does it again. And again. Until I'm quivering all over. His fingers are firm but gentle as he brushes against my skin and peels my lips apart. A hot flush of shyness travels over my skin. I've never felt so exposed or vulnerable.

Then he moves higher, circling my clit with his tongue, taking his time, applying the lightest of pressure. My mind crackles with how damn good it feels.

Was Daniel the problem all along ? He went at my lady bits like a sloppy dog trying to launch a tennis ball with his tongue. No matter how many times I asked him to slow down or use a lighter touch, he always reverted to an eager puppy slurp during his five minutes of giving oral.

Jigsaw doesn't need guidance. And he seems to have infinite patience. He's slow and gentle, only increasing pressure or speed in response to my movements or the sounds spilling from my lips.

He's vocal too, like he's really, really enjoying himself. Not treating it as a chore to finish so he can move on to the main event. He's definitely not acting like he's counting to three hundred using the one-Mississippi method in his head, either.

He lifts his head and desire hits me in waves at the sight of his glossy lips and intense stare. "How do you feel about this now? Need a time check?" he asks with a cocky gleam in his eyes.

Time? I couldn't take my eyes off of him if my life depended on it.

"Keep going?"

"Yes, please," I beg.

His lips twist into a wickedly pleased-with-himself grin.

As sexy as that is, I can't help responding with a teasing scold. "A good coach isn't smug when he chooses the right play."

He grins even wider, then dives in, bringing his mouth against me in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. He licks and flutters his tongue against me in the most satisfying ways.

I let out a sharp cry and spear my fingers through his hair.

He groans, the sound vibrating against me and licks harder.

My hips rock against him, offering myself. He growls his approval and flicks his tongue against me faster. With a sharp tug on my clit as he sucks and teases, a sweet, pulsing release spirals through me. He maintains the steady rhythm and pressure until I burst into a million pieces.

Panting hard and overwhelmed with the sensations that go on and on, I squirm away, then struggle to get closer. My body jerks as it becomes too much, and Jigsaw reluctantly backs off. His hands stay pressed to my thighs, thumbs kneading my flesh. He lightly swipes his tongue against my clit, and I jump.

"I can't get enough of you," he whispers more to himself than to me.

I'm too numb to speak yet. My brain hasn't re-entered my head. He drags the pillow out from under me and settles himself against my side. I'm too spent to turn toward him. I focus my fuzzy gaze on the ceiling. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

"My pleasure." The bed shifts as he rolls on top of me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm divine." I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

His fierce expression softens. "No. You can't hurt me, little lady death."

Oh, but he could hurt me.

I never knew sexual experiences could be this good. My mind's blown at all I've been missing. Besides the core-melting orgasms, I like him so much.

"Was I okay at that?" That's what he's here for, to teach me. I have to stop forgetting that part.

"Magnificent. A-plus for my star student."

Glowing from the compliment, I run my fingers through his soft, thick hair again. He's such a beautiful man. Inside and outside. How did he get to his age and never have a girlfriend? Never ever? Or did the relationship end so badly, he doesn't like to talk about it?

"You've really never dated anyone seriously?"

His shoulders jerk. "Does it matter?"

"No, I guess not."

He dips down and catches my lips in a kiss. I wrinkle my nose at my scent all over him and he laughs against my mouth. "Kiss me."

That seems so intimate for our arrangement, but I can't resist his plea. I hook one arm behind his neck and drag him closer. While our lips slide together and our tongues collide, I slip my hand under his shirt, daring to sneak over his abdominals.

"Can you?" I tug on the shirt. "Take this off?"

A bolt of alarm darts across his face, so fast I might have imagined it. Then his expression settles into languid arrogance. "You haven't earned it yet."

He doesn't want to get too comfortable here. Got it.

I said I wanted him to stay the night but now I'm not sure if that's safe. I don't want to get used to this. To us. To him being here in my bed and never anything more than that.

Jigsaw

Something in Margot's mood has shifted. More than a post-orgasmic haze is keeping her quiet. First the relationship question. Then asking me to undress.

I study her face. Glossy eyes staring up at the ceiling, rapidly blinking like she's trying not to cry.

Danger.

What the hell am I doing? This wasn't supposed to get complicated. I knew this was a mistake. I've been way too casual and familiar with her. Kissing her every chance I get, talking to her like a boyfriend instead of a coach. Insisting on only focusing on her pleasure because I don't want to teach her all the tricks to get a man off just so she can use them on someone else who isn't me. The thought of her with some other guy twists a hot knife of jealousy in my chest.

I've violated all of my own rules with her.

I want to honor our agreement and give her everything she needs. But first I need some distance. Clarity.

A distinct buzzing comes from the floor.

Margot turns her head and frowns.

"Fuck, that's mine. I thought I shut it off." I sit up and grab my jeans off the floor, searching for my phone.

Rooster flashes on the screen.

I stand and answer the call. "What's going on?"

"Where are you?"

"Why are you answering a question with a question?" I open the bedroom door and step into the hallway.

He sighs into the phone. Fucking with him when I can't see the exasperation on his big, bearded face just isn't as much fun. "I'm listening."

"Laundromat got broken into."

"Are you serious? What'd they go after, the dryer sheets?"

He snorts. "No, they beat the hell out of the change machine and a couple of washers before giving up and just taking what was in the register."

"Fucking assholes." I tuck my phone between my cheek and shoulder and hop into my jeans, jerking them up my legs.

"Yeah, the worst of it is the front window. Shattered the whole thing to break in."

"Are you shitting me?"

"Nope. Huge fucking mess. Eazy and Z are down there dealing with the cops now."

I flick my gaze toward Margot's bedroom door. Rooster just handed me an excuse to escape. "I'll be home in a couple of hours."

"Where are you?"

"None of your business. Tell Z I'm on my way."

"You don't have to leave now." He blows out an exasperated breath. "We have enough people to cover it."

"No, it's fine. You at the house?"

"Yeah, someone hacked into Stella's site, so I'm dealing with that."

"Shit. That's bad, isn't it?"

"It's not great."

"Maybe give Upstate a call and let them know the moon's in retrograde or whatever."

He snorts a laugh. "Yeah, I was going to call Murphy after I got off the phone with you. I'll be sure to tell him that."

"Later." We end the call.

I shove my phone in my pocket and return to the bedroom. Margot's sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing an oversized T-shirt and a sad expression that gives me pause.

Rooster said he doesn't need me.

I don't want to leave.

I really should though. Things were getting too cozy before. Too relationship-y.

"I'm sorry, babe. I gotta go." I grab my cut off the nightstand.

She blinks up at me. "We never got to the pleasuring you part of the lesson."

I'm painfully aware of that fact.

"I know. We will." I give her a cocky wink even though I'm feeling more unsettled than anything right now. "That's a lesson all on its own." I force a grin, trying to keep the mood light. My mind's already back on my bike speeding away from the reality that I'm in deeper than I intended.

Cupping the back of her head, I lean down and press a quick kiss to her lips. The way she melts into me and twists her fingers in my shirt has me questioning everything. I want to stay. I'm aching to climb into bed and stay the night. Pretend we're more.

"I'm sorry I gotta go," I whisper against her lips before pulling away.

Without taking my eyes off of her, I slip my cut on, the weight of it grounding me, reminding me of who I am. What I do and what I don't do.

"Sure." She tucks her legs up underneath the long T-shirt, the fabric swallowing her small frame. "Is everything okay?"

"Just some club stuff." Her concern only makes me feel worse. This is exactly what I didn't want. Feelings. Regret. I like my freedom. Don't want to feel tethered to another person.

At least I didn't want that kind of connection before I met her.

Now, I don't know what I want.

"See you soon?" She won't even look at me.

"I'll text you." I don't know if that's a promise.

Or a lie.