Still In Love With Her (3 page)

“Don’t tell me that. I’m already jealous of her.”

“You shouldn’t be, especially if Charlie’s the reason.”

“Humph, but Charlie’s a Scorpio?”
 

“Um-hum.” I gaze off thoughtfully. “I can’t figure out what sort of mojo Daisy is working on Jack. When they’re together, they fuck twenty-four seven.”

“Maybe it’s her pussy.”

We both burst into laughter. I’m laughing because hot damn, I think that’s it!

Monroe pats my thigh. “Get some rest, because I’m having a party tonight.”

I sigh. “Not tonight, Roe. I’m not in the mood.”

She leaps to her feet. “This isn’t going to be your run-of-the-mill fun, bump, and fuck party.” She smirks. “Well, all of that will happen, but we’re going to be on the outside looking in.”

I frown. “Huh?”
 

She flexes her eyebrows. “Rest and then come to my closet,” she sings. Monroe dances out of sight.
 

I pull the blanket over my shoulders and turn on my side to stare at the wall. My head is sleepy, but my heart won’t let me rest. Vince hasn’t called me. Double fuck Vincent Adams. I probably should’ve gotten involved with Robert Tango instead. At least with him, there would be no blurred lines. He’s always been clear about what he wants from me—legs spread, insert dick.
 

I flip onto my other side and try to get comfortable. It’s not working. My muscles are too tense. I kick off the blanket, sit up, pull off Monroe’s come-fuck-me T-shirt, and go for a swim. I lap the pool until my arms and legs grow heavy. I dry myself with a towel and then wrap it around my head.
 

Back in my room, I check my phone. I have missed calls from everyone except Vince.
Jerk
. I stretch across the bed, lying on my stomach, and close my eyes. Inch by inch, I creep off to sleep.
 

Robert Tango and I are in the elevator, riding up to the twenty-seventh floor. It’s dim, and cheesy red light flashes. I’m in that slinky, back-out dress Monroe gave me. I’ve tried it on several times, but the message it sends is far too distracting for my taste. Robert strides across the small space, and his hooded gaze is so sexy. He spins me around, lifts my arms over my head, and slaps my palms against the wall. I gasp when his healthy erection stabs my ass.
 

“You want this, don’t you?” His warm breath blows in my ear.
 

His tongue traces circles and lines down my back. He’s moaning, getting off on dry-humping me. I toss my head back, and the sounds of our whimpers crash around us. I want to milk his dick.
But why?
 

“Yes, why? Why do you want me to come, Maggie? All over your pretty little ass?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“I can tell you why.”

“Then do tell.”
 

His sexy chuckle warms my ear. “You like being liked.”

I shake my head. “No.”
 

Up and down, his dick rides the crease of my ass. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Then why won’t you spread your legs and let me have your pussy?” His hand snakes up my thigh. “Why, Maggie?” he barks and stops stimulating me.

The ache I felt when I saw Vince wink at Emily returns. “Because…”
 

“Because what?”

“I only love Vince. I only crave him.”

“But he doesn’t want you. And you want me.”

A dick impales me and makes me want to erupt at first thrust.
 

I wake with a stop. The room is dark. The towel is off my head, and I’ve managed to curl into the fetal position. Thank goodness that was only a dream.
 

My phone rings, and I spring off the bed to answer it. “Hello?” I ask without checking to see who’s calling.

“Mags, did you really quit or are you battling a case of the crazies?”

Ugh.
I roll my eyes. It’s Robert. “I really quit.”

“You do know you signed a contract.”

“You do know that I know Jack Lord.”

“You do know I can make it impossible for you to find another job.”

“Again, you do know that I know Jack Lord?”

“Fucking Maggie! If you ever appreciated the opportunity Vince gave you, then you would do it right.”

I sigh hard. Monroe calls my name.
 

“Be there in a second,” I say to her.

“You’re coming to see me?” he asks.

I recognize that tone. “You see, this is one problem I have at A&Rt—
you
.”

“You’re the one who said you were coming over.”

Although I can’t see it, I know he’s smirking. “I was talking to Monroe.”

“Oh?” He sounds intrigued.
 

“Actually, the two of you would be perfect for each other.”

“But I want you, Maggie. You can’t dock me for being honest.”

“If you have a crush on me, keep it to yourself.”

He laughs. “A crush?”

Why the hell am I entertaining this conversation? “Call it what you want.”

“I have an ache for you.”

“Have you told Vince that you have this”—I draw air quotes—“‘ache’ for me?”
 

“Vince knows I want you.”

“Then why...” I shake my head, confused. Then why hasn’t Vince punched Robert’s lights out? Why are they still friends?
 

“Listen, Mags, come back to work.”

I shake my head emphatically. “I’m done.”

“Give us two weeks. You’re an important part of our company. If you jump ship, people will feel the waves. Vince will be in L.A. for the next couple of weeks. Work out of New York.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to forget the dream I just had.
 

“Maggie, what are you doing?” Monroe asks, poking her head in the room.

I point at the phone in my hand.

“Is that Vince?” she whispers.

I shake my head and mouth, “Robert.”

Her eyes expand, and she leans against the doorjamb.

“I have to go,” I say. There’s no way I’m letting Monroe hear this ridiculous conversation.

“So are you giving us two weeks?”

“Okay. As long as I don’t have to see those two together.”

“Then I’ll see you Monday?”

“Wait. I don’t want to see you either.”

Monroe chuckles.

“You’re going to have to see one of us. Pick your poison,” he says.

I sigh. “Okay. I pick your poison. See you Monday.” I end the call before Robert can say something that will make me change my mind. I shake a finger at Monroe. “Do not.”

She draws a line across her lips. “Why are you naked? Have you been playing with yourself?” She’s clearly entertained by that idea.

“No. I went swimming.”

Her eyes roll up and down my figure. There’s something weird about the way she’s looking at me. “Well, don’t put any clothes on. It’s time to get you dressed for the party. The caterers have already set up, and the strippers are arriving.”

“Strippers?”

“They’re the cheese to trap the rats.”

Again, Monroe has thoroughly confused me.

I shower, washing the chlorine out of my hair and off my skin. I blow-dry my mane bone straight. It’s still not as thick as Monroe’s, but my hair is shiny and soft as butter.
 

“You’re so damn hot,” Monroe says as I study myself in the mirror.

What’s strange is that I’m wearing a dress similar to the one I wore in the dream I just had about Robert, except this one is powder blue.

“This is the last straw,” I say. “It’s time I woman up and buy my own clothes.”

“Nah, let me buy your rags, Mags. You have no idea how to dress that sexy body of yours, and I do.” Monroe slaps me on the ass.

“I must admit,” I say, turning this way and that, “this dress looks really good on me.”

“Really good? You look hot!” She slaps my ass again.
 

Monroe and I talk about Dash, the new guy she’s seeing, as I sit on the chaise and watch her get dressed.
 

“Have you heard me say ‘gnarly’ yet?” she asks.

“Only dozens of times.”

“I like that word.” She threads an earring through the hole in her earlobe. “I always knew I was made to be a Californian.”

“Well, that is definitely the defining factor. I mean, no one, and I mean no one, says ‘gnarly’ like Californians.”

“And oh, can he fuck. No one fucks like Californians.”

“That’s because they get a lot of practice.”

“And practice makes perfect!” Monroe leaps into her closet. “I think the night should culminate with you getting laid. You can either join me and Dash in here, or I can hook you up with someone else.”

I flinch so hard that I nearly strain my neck. “Join you and Dash? You’re talking about girl-on-girl with me?”

Monroe reappears. “Although I’ve eaten pussy, yours is off-limits to this mouth. But I would eat your tits because, well, you have nice ones.”

I laugh so hard that I spill off the arm of the chair. Maybe both of us have lost our marbles today. “When the hell have you eaten pussy?” I manage to get out.

“I don’t tell you everything I do.” She points at me. “Just for that reason, right there.”

“What? I’m not judging you. I’m not going to let you eat my tits either.”

“You should try it. A soft woman’s tongue and teeth devouring your sweet nipples?”

“What?” I say as if that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

“Let me try it now.”

“Wait.” I throw up a hand. “You’re not going to tell me you love me or some shit.”

“No way! I mean, I love you, but I like dick—mostly.”

“OMG, as the kids say.”

“Mags…”
 

My eyes widen in horror as she walks toward me.
 

“Dash is going to fuck you and eat your pussy, and I’m going to do this.” She pulls the material from over my breasts, exposing my firm nipples. “Look at that. You’re not used to letting go. You don’t let your body do what it wants to.”
 

“Monroe…” I feebly object. I’m curious as hell about how far she’s really going to take this.
 

“Shush.”
 

I watch the tip of my tit disappear into her mouth. She was right. It’s a soft, titillating sensation, although the jury is out on whether or not I like it. Tongue, teeth, and suction stimulate my nipple. A gasp escapes me, and Monroe sticks her fingers into my pussy.
 

“Um,” she moans. “Damn, Mags, you taste like a vanilla Popsicle. I want to eat this so badly.” Her finger taps my clit. “But like I said, you’re off-limits. I’ve been thinking about why I’ve been wanting to do this.”

She sucks my other nipple. Should I tell her to stop? What the hell is going on? Did I disembark at LAX and land in the Twilight Zone? She sucks and bites my nipples while her fingers bang me like a jackhammer. For a moment, I forget it’s Monroe making me feel this way. I pitch my head back and suck air.

“Shit!” I grab her hand. I’m so close to coming, and if she gets me off, that would definitely put weirdness between us. “Stop.”

Monroe’s tongue laps my nipple one more time, and she rakes it between her teeth. “There, out of my system.”

“You’re crazy, you know.”

“I know! So are we awkward now?” she asks.

I raise my eyebrows. “Very.”

“But you liked it. Don’t say you didn’t.”

“It felt good but wrong—for me. If you want pussy, then have a buffet but mine isn’t on the menu, or my tits.”

She cracks up. “No. I’m good.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I think you cured me of my pussy craving.”

A laugh escapes me. “I’m heading downstairs.”

“No, really, Mags, this is good. Now we can work together without me wanting to do what I just did.”

“Is that how you’re reasoning it?”

“What I did is going to happen to you more often than you blink. Men. Women. Our clients are going to want to make your beautiful ass moan.”

“So you’re saying that was a test?”

She shakes her head. “No, that was me wanting to get you off.”

I laugh. “First of all, I’m rethinking working with you. I love you, but you can be just as wacky as Robert Tango.”

“Could you stop calling me wacky, crazy, and insane?” she asks.

I study her serious expression. “Okay.”

“Thanks, and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again unless you ask me to.”

“I’m not going to ask.”

“Then I won’t do it.”

I study her with one eye narrowed. I sigh. “All right then.”

She smiles. “Now how was I compared to Vince?”

“You’re an expert.”
 

She nods. “I know. I’m so good with a woman’s body. I think it’s because I know what I like.”

I raise a finger. “Just don’t ever touch my pussy again.”

She laughs. “Deal. But what about Dash?”

I’m very close to calling her crazy. “I thought you liked this guy?”

“I do, but we have an open relationship.” She looks off as if she just had a thought. “Tonight, you’ll have him all to yourself. He’s my gift to you. And may he fuck Vincent Adams out of your system.”

I ruffle my eyebrows and ponder her words. Monroe takes off her white, see-through lace dress and puts on a short, tight black rubber dress instead. Her hair is flowing, and her legs are long, but she doesn’t turn me on in the slightest. I’m not surprised she made a move on me. Monroe would fuck a peanut if it could be done. However, the nipple stimulation and masturbation she gave me has made me horny. I want Vince even though he’s long gone.
 

“Okay,” I say.

Monroe emerges from the bathroom. “Okay what?”

“If Dash is that good, then I’ll fuck him.”

She grins. “Oh, he’s that good.”

“Okay then.”

It seems as if everyone arrives at the same time. If they’ve made it inside, then they’ve passed through metal detectors and three burly doormen, whose body checks consist of feeling under the nut-sack and in butt cracks. A deejay is spinning music, and buck-naked girls swing on poles. I know a number of the guests. They’re actors, agents, music artists, athletes, and their muses. I stand on the stairwell checking it all out. Round tables are set up. There’s enough coke to get us all twenty years upstate. I see a man’s head bobbing up and down against a guy’s lap. The receiver’s name is Delta Foster, the action-film heartthrob.