Page 132 of Jig's Last Dance

I can’t reveal the newest shit storm I’ve fallen into because neither solution is going to end well with Jig.

His bright eyes drop to my tits before he raises his gaze to mine with an intensity that makes me squirm. “You been dreaming about me, sunshine?”

“Ha,” I rasp, narrowing my eyes when his nostrils flare as he runs his finger down the throbbing pulse in my neck.

The caress feels too fucking good, and I slam my mouth closed as goosebumps trail in his wake.

He licks his lips before smirking, and I lean into him, soaking up his warmth for one weak moment before saying, “What do you want?”

His eyes flicker, and looking away, he drops his hand. “To sleep.”

I don’t know what that means, but the desperate quality of his tone makes my heart ache. Still, I plaster a feral grin on my face and back away. “Too fucking bad.”

He cocks his head, his jaw clenching before he grabs my arm and forces me down the hall to the back exit. Once we’re out the door and in the evening air, I try to pull away, but he’s not having it, and when the SUV comes into view, I dig in my heels.

“Jig,” I say, and he pulls me around until I’m flush against his chest.

“Get inside.”

His tone is stern, but his eyes are molten, and I slowly shake my head.

“Fuck,” he rasps, grabbing my cheeks and dropping his mouth to mine. His warm lips feel so good, but I’m afraid of where this is heading.

How much of myself can I lose to this mercurial man?

When I resist, clenching my mouth and turning my head, he leans his forehead against mine and whispers, “Sunshine.”

The ache in his tone makes me bleed, and I search my soul before giving in. Maybe I’m meant to be broken, but I can’t leave him like this.

Our goodbye should be a fucking light show, not the darkness our family abandoned us within.

Slowly, I lift my lips to his and close my eyes. “Jig.”

After that, it’s all a blur of grunts and moans as he lifts me in his arms and pushes me against the side of the vehicle.

Knowing this is the last time I’ll ever touch him, I’m desperate to feel him everywhere. Grabbing my jeans, I fumble with the buttons, and he wrenches them down my legs before opening the car door and laying me down on the seat.

There’s no foreplay, only need as our eyes lock, and he stares at me with a desperation that hurts.

“Jig,” I moan when he eases inside of me.

He fills me so full that I’m momentarily breathless, and I close my eyes, adjusting to the change.

With a single pump, he slides to my core, and I gasp, arching my hips. Heat sails along my limbs, and I roll my head from side to side.

“Look at me,” he says gruffly, and I open my eyes, meeting his gaze as he fucks me slowly, carefully, like I’m made of glass.

Although the sentiment creates havoc in my heart, I don’t want him to be tender. I want it to be rough. I wanthim. Thrusting up, I say, “Fuck me, Jig.”

His eyes flash, and he grabs my hips, the touch almost painful as he pounds into me. I sail across the seat, clenching the leather to keep me grounded, but it’s impossible.

With Jig, I’m always soaring. Unfortunately, what goes up must come down.

“So fucking good,” he grunts, lifting my legs over his shoulders.

The angle changes everything, and the burn becomes a crescendo as his piercing rubs me just right. My limbs fail me. I drop back to the seat and moan, thrashing as the wave builds.

It’s so fucking sweet but intense that I fight it, overcome, but Jig, sensing my reticence, runs his fingers over my clit.

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