Page 57 of Another Last Call
For the record, I had no intention of calling Tina. She was hot, sure, but she was completely hammered. I’d told her as much when she asked if I lived nearby, and she’d insisted on giving me her number anyway.
Not that it should have mattered. Maggie had been clear. We’d agreed that we needed to keep things professional between us. Thinking I wouldn’t want to meet other women was her problem, not mine. It was unreasonable for her to think I’d never want to date someone else.
Frankly, I was so annoyed that I was secretly a bit happy that Maggie was hurting.
As soon as I had that thought, I felt guilty. I didn’t want Maggie to feel hurt, but at the same time, it was her own doing. It wasn’t my fault that she was jealous. And it certainly wasn’t my fault that she didn’t think enough of me to know I wouldn’t have fucked Tina that night.
Depending on how horny I still was after a good night’s sleep, I might have called her the next day, but that was beside the point.
After finishing the deposit Maggie had so kindly left for me, I cleaned up the rest of the bar. It didn’t take long, and my blood was still boiling as I flipped the lights off and locked up. As I stepped out the back door, I glanced at the staircase that led to Maggie’s apartment and paused.
I don’t know what possessed me to do it. I was still upset, and I got it in my head that Maggie shouldn’t get to dictate when the fight was over just because she lived close enough to storm off first. Before I could think anything through, I was climbing the stairs.
I knocked three times on the door, loud bangs that echoed in the stairwell. I had every intention of continuing our fight, of telling Maggie exactly why she was being unreasonable and that she didn’t get to have it both ways. I had no intention of apologizing, and certainly no intention of anything besides telling her off.
When the door flew open, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Maggie’s eyes were red, and the look on her face was something I’d never seen before. It wasn’t quite a scowl, and it wasn’t quite embarrassment or anger or guilt. It was all those, and more. She had taken off the black button-up shirt she’d been wearing at work and stood in front of me in jeans and a pale pink camisole, her skin flushed beneath the scrawling tattoos on her arms and shoulders.
She looked beautiful, as she always did, and I was even more frustrated that I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it.
I started to say something, but the second I made a noise, she grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me towards her. The moment our mouths met in that bruising, crushing, almost painful kiss, I knew that was why I’d been drawn there.
And I knew I wouldn’t leave until I’d buried my cock inside her.
I don’t think either of us were capable of anything soft or sweet at that moment. I could feel the anger radiating off Maggie, and I fed off it, my own frustration growing and boiling over as I pushed her inside her apartment. The door slammed behind us and she pushed me back against it with surprising strength.
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” she growled and kissed me again.
I grabbed her hips, squeezing her ass as I brought her body close to mine. “That makes two of us, then.”
She thrust her hips forward hard, biting down on my lip. I inhaled sharply at the shock of pain, and turned suddenly, maneuvering us in one swift twist so I could force her back against the door.
“You had no right to be pissed at me,” I said, my voice hoarse. I brought my hand to her chin and turned it up towards me roughly, capturing her lips with mine. “You didn’t want me.” I pushed her face to the side and kissed her neck, sucking hard on the skin there.
“I always wanted you,” she gasped. I pulled back and looked at her, wide, red-rimmed eyes staring back at me. “Don’t you dare think I didn’t fucking want you this entire goddamn time.”
I didn’t have a response for that.
I couldn’t have a response for that.
Instead, I kissed her again, inhaling the feel of her mouth and the taste of her breath. She grazed my lip with her teeth, her hands reaching up to grab at my hair. She pulled hard, holding my head against hers as she shoved her tongue in my mouth.
I let her be in control for a few moments, my cock straining painfully in my jeans as I pushed against her. But I wasn’t in a patient mood, and I fought to be in charge again. Grabbing the hem of her camisole, I yanked it up, revealing her midriff. As I tore it over her head, I could hear threads snapping in the hems.
“You ripped my shirt,” she whispered.
“Good.”
I threw it across the room and pushed the straps of her bra down, grabbing at her tits as I slid the cups down to her ribs. I wasn’t in the mood to bother trying to unhook the damn thing. If she wanted it off, she could do it herself. I gripped her breasts hard as I kissed her again, my fingers digging into the sensitive flesh beneath them. She cried out and tried to move forward.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she gasped. “But don’t you dare stop.”
I used my body to shove her back against the door. “If you want me to stop, tell me. If you want me to leave, kick me out. Otherwise—” I let go of one of her breasts and reached up, winding my hand through her hair “—don’t fucking tell me what to do.”
She cried out and I flattened the hand that was still on her tits, pushing down so I could feel her nipple through the rough palm of my hand. She whimpered again and tilted her head back against the door, breathing hard. Her hands moved to touch me, but I released her breast and her hair so I could grab her wrists, pinning them beside her shoulders.
