Jag sat on the end of the bed and dragged a hand through his hair. He was doing everything he could not to look over his shoulder at Ivy.

He wanted to strangle her, that’s what he wanted to do. Knock some fucking sense into her.

The stubborn woman was always searching for the wrong thing. Always chasing the wrong type of guy. She seemed determined to buck her fate.

What she didn’t realize was that there was no way she could end up permanently with someone like the men she brought home. The geeks, the nerds, the pussies.

They could never satisfy her in the end. Her personality would roll over them. It was one reason they never stuck around long. Jag intimidating them was another. Though, it wasn’t just him that pushed them away. She couldn’t drag a non-biker to club pig roasts and parties and expect them to fit in. Or even feel comfortable.

Ivy was Dirty Angels MC through and through. It was in her blood as much as it was in Jag’s. The same as it was her uncle’s or her cousins’, or even Dex and Bella’s.

Though, he hated to admit it, he’d waited a long time for his shot with her. Way too long. And he was not a man who had a lot of patience. Especially when it came to that spitfire.

He’d watched her through the years desperately trying to avoid ending up with one of the brothers. Did he understand why?

Yeah. Sorta.

Was he going to accept it? Fuck no.

When the day finally came that she admitted she belonged to the club in every way possible, she couldn’t belong to just any one of them. No fucking way.

She was his.

She’d always been his. All the way back to when they were kids and she had a crush on Zak, who’d never make a move on her. Whether she realized it or not, no other brother, or even prospect, would ever approach her, even if she wanted them to.

It was called respect. And it was the glue that bonded the brotherhood.

And, as for respect, Ivy wasn’t showing him any right now. Nothing new, though, he was used to it.

But that wasn’t what bothered him. What stuck in his craw was that he finally had his chance with her when they weren’t drunk and she turned something that could’ve been good into something ugly. It was nothing more than a transaction for her.

He stared down at his hands which were curled into fists on his thighs and blew out a breath.

He needed to get dressed, walk out, and slam the door behind him without so much as a see-ya-the-fuck-later. Cleanse her poison from his system.

He needed to get over her and move the fuck on.

But fuck him, he couldn’t.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Ah fuck, Ivy.”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not, Jag.”

His jaw tightened and he could barely get out, “Tell me what it is then.”

“Nothing.”

Nothing. This was nothing to her. He was nothing.

He jumped to his feet and rounded the bed to where she sat back against the headboard. He stared down at her.

Something flickered behind her eyes as she met his.

She was so full of shit.

This wasn’t nothing.

This was everything. And it scared her.

“If it’s nothing, why’d you break into my room?”

She shrugged a bare shoulder. “We already had this discussion.”

“If it’s nothing, why’d you climb into bed with me after your shower?”

“It’s my bed.”

“You don’t want me that bad, you gotta spare room.”

“I just wanted to get off.”

He gritted his teeth. “Yeah, you got that.”

“Yes, I did.” She raised her hand toward the door. “Now you can leave.” She dropped her hand into her lap. “And anyway, I probably stink again, so I don’t want to offend your sensitive olfactory system.”

He frowned. His what?

“Your nose,” she clarified.

“Smell like me now. Left me on you. I can live with that.”

“Maybe it’s a smell I can’t live with and need to wash it off me.”

Sometimes she just acted like a cold fucking bitch.

But inside... inside he knew she wasn’t. Inside she burned as hot as the color of her hair. She just didn’t burn for him.

And once again, it hit him that he needed to get dressed and get gone. From her apartment. From her life.

But before he left, he needed to show her the error of her ways. Or at least try to make another attempt.

Show her what she’d be missing if he walked out the door and never came back. Yeah, they’d see each other at church. Yeah, it’d be hard to ignore each other completely. And it would be bad for him when she dragged her next nerdy conquest to a club party.

So, if he couldn’t have her again after today, he wanted to make it good enough that neither of them would forget.

Not like the fuck that they just did. It could’ve been any woman under him earlier. And Ivy wasn’t just any woman.

“You just going to stand there with your junk hanging out? Or you going to get dressed and get gone?”

“Not goin’ anywhere. We’re gonna do this right an’ then I’ll leave.”

“What do you mean, do it right? We just did it.”

He climbed onto the bed and went face to face with her. “We’re going to do this right, babe.”

“I don’t see—”

He cut off her words when he took her mouth hard. Taking advantage of her surprised gasp, he shoved his tongue between her lips to tangle with hers. A noise rose from the back of her throat.

He didn’t care if it was a complaint or encouragement. This time they were doing it his way.

She grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh. He flinched but didn’t let up. Instead, he straddled her legs while burying his hands into her hair, holding her still.

Then she bit his bottom lip, he jerked back, tasting blood.

Her body was tense, her eyes narrowed and before she could bitch him out, he claimed her mouth again. But not before saying, “Mine,” against her lips.

He explored the inside of her mouth, hoping she didn’t bite his tongue off. Because that would suck.

But she didn’t. The longer he kissed her, the softer she became, her nails raking down his back, this time not in anger, and it made him hard for her. When her hands slid up his back, she didn’t stop until she had fistfuls of his hair.

He waited for the painful tug. But it didn’t come. And when she moaned into his mouth, he knew he had her.

He had her.

Her fingers curled against his scalp and with a tilt of her head, she took the kiss deeper.

This. This is what he wanted from her.

He pulled back enough to grumble, “Gonna do this the way we should’ve earlier. On your back, then you on top.”

Her eyes were unfocused, her lips swollen and shiny, and damn, he wanted them wrapped around his dick.

When he shifted to put her on her back, she slipped quickly from under him. Before he could grab her, she shoved a hand against his chest and pushed him down, then settled between his legs.

Yes. She’d read his mind.

When her hot, wet mouth encircled him, he threw his head back and barked, “Fuck,” at the ceiling. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as her tongue did some wicked fucking dance over his length and down to his balls.

Holy mother fuck.

His breath caught and he lifted his head enough to see her thick, red hair spread across his lap. He grabbed a handful of it and rubbed the silkiness over his stomach. Satin. Warm satin. Just like her pussy.

As her teeth scraped along the head of his cock, his hips jerked and he slammed a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck!”

But it was when he parted her mass of fiery hair so he could see her face, when she tilted her eyes up to his and held them as her cheeks hollowed out, he just about lost his shit.

That sight was going to be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. If he walked out of there today and never saw her again, this is what he’d remember. Her red hair, her green eyes, her lips stretched around him.

Goddamn heaven, it was.

And then she squeezed his balls...

He fought with himself on whether he wanted to just come down her throat or fuck her again. He wanted both, but he knew he may not get that choice.

He had to take what he could get, what she was willing to give him at that very moment. Because even though now she was eager, hot and bothered, in a few minutes, she might turn cold as ice.

And he didn’t want the Ivy he had right that minute to disappear. He had to keep her as long as he could.

But it wasn’t him that made the decision on how to finish. It was her as she moved away and went to the open box of condoms, snagging one and tossing it onto his chest.

Her voice was thick when she urged him to hurry.

He usually didn’t take orders from any woman. But this was one he’d allow. He might be a hard-headed biker, but he wasn’t stupid.

He tore the wrapper open, rolled the condom on and before he could raise his gaze, she was there... Pushing away his hands, mounting him, then sliiiiiiiding slowly down his cock.

Holy mother fuck.

And when she finally had him fully inside her, she stilled, closed her eyes, and he could feel her pulsating around him, the warm, wet silk of her pussy squeezing him tight.

He flexed his dick deep inside her and her eyes popped open, a smile crossing her lips as she met his gaze.

Then, suddenly it hit him that she’d done this with other men. Been on top like this, looked exactly like this with someone other than him. More like with many someones. And he had to squeeze his eyes shut to let the fury run through him. Otherwise they would be back to where they were earlier. Just two bodies fucking and getting off.

He was determined it wouldn’t be like that this time. He needed to remember that. He needed to concentrate on this moment. This time, this place.

“Jag,” she whispered, and he opened his eyes to see hers with a question in them. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Yeah,” he said just as softly, trying to keep the anger from his face.

Her brows furrowed. “Then why does it look like someone kicked your puppy?”

He sucked a hard breath through his nostrils. “Ain’t nothin’.”

When she started to move, he couldn’t help but let the anger go. He reminded himself that he’d been no angel, either. In fact, he’d done some stupid shit when it came to other women... like letting Goldie ride him on the couch in front of everyone, including Ivy and the man-boy she was dragging around that night.

Ivy’s tits bouncing as she rose and fell on his dick took him out of his thoughts. They weren’t huge, or heavy, but they were big enough to fit his hands perfectly and they were the perkiest tits he ever saw. He cupped them in his palms and ran his thumbs over the tightly beaded tips.

Since it caused her mouth to part, and her eyes to darken, he did it again. Then he rolled them between his fingers and pulled. Her fingers clamped around his wrists tightly and she encouraged him to pinch her nipples harder, to twist them roughly and he did.

Fuck.

No other man’s hands belonged on her tits. On her body. No other cock but his belonged inside her.

He bucked his hips up and knocked her off balance, then twisted until she was now under him. He slid deep inside her and stilled, meeting her green eyes.

Then he thrust slowly, all the way in, all the way out until he barely nudged her with the tip.

“Jag,” she breathed.

“Like that?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah she did. So did he.

All the way inside her, then all the way back out, teasing her opening with the crown again.

“Fuck,” she groaned.

He did it once more. This time staying outside of her warmth for a beat. She squirmed against him, pushed her hips up.

“Jag,” she moaned.

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 he 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.