Still In Love With Her (4 page)

“You’re looking at Delta?” Monroe says after stepping up behind me. “There are rumors that he prefers cock. As you can see, they’re true.”

“I see…” I’m transfixed by Delta Foster.
 

Delta’s sucking air like a fish out of water, and no one seems to care. It could be because it’s happening all over the place. One woman is against the wall with a guy giving her pussy a go. I count three more incidences of the same thing. There’s actual fucking going on too. No one seems to mind.
 

“Someone could take a picture of him getting his cock sucked right now, broadcast it all over the world, and as an image consultant, you could still convince people that he’s as straight as an arrow. Couldn’t you?” Monroe says.

“Huh?”
 

Delta blows. The other guy has come all over his mouth as they kiss.
 

“Is he our client?” I ask.

“Bingo.”

I shake my head with certainty. “No way.”

“Mags, come on. Don’t be a pussy. This kind of challenge is right up our alley.”

“Is misleading the public a challenge?”

“The public image of a public figure is never the truth. People can’t handle the truth. They don’t like bitches, arrogant egomaniacs, crybabies, junkies, or dumbasses. They don’t want to know the truth.”

“And which is Delta?”

“A hundred percent egomaniac, three-quarters junkie, and half dumbass.”
 

 
I snort and roll my eyes.
 

“Just hear him out first. Deep down, you know that you love the kind of challenge he presents.”

I twist my mouth thoughtfully. “I’ll hear him out, but before or after he gets his rocks off again?”

Monroe laughs. “Tomorrow. By the way, have you seen Dash?”

“I have not a clue what he looks like.”

“He’s right…” Her arm shoots past my face, and my eyes follow her finger. “There.”
 

Monroe points at a guy with shaggy blond hair and a rugged five-o’clock shadow. He’s wearing a navy button-front shirt that hugs his frame and nice-fitting gray slacks. He’s sexy, but my eyes devour the better-looking guy standing behind him and staring at me.

“Oh shit,” Monroe says.
 

“What’s he doing here?” I ask.

“I can get rid of him.” She slaps my ass and starts down the stairs.

I grab her shoulder. “That’s okay. I want to talk to him.” I walk past her feeling as if my head is floating above my shoulders.
 

Vince doesn’t take his eyes off me.
 

“Hey,” I say when we face each other.

Vince hugs me and looks around the room as though he’s trying to figure out what in the hell is going on. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
 

I tilt my head. “This way.”

Vince rests his hands on my hips. Being handled by him feels so good, but it’s also infuriating because of the way he treated me. He follows me up the stairs, down a long hallway, through an alcove, and down a short corridor. From there, we walk down steps, but Vince grabs me before we make it to the bottom.

He pins me against the wall. “What the hell was that today?”
 

I shake my head as the pain floods back into my heart.

“Maggie, Emily and I are not together.”

“It didn’t look like that to me.”

He stares in my eyes then gazes down my body. “You’re wearing this fucking dress? For who?”

“For me.”

Vince licks his lips and pulls up my dress. He looks down. “No panties?”

I shake my head. His eyes are hooded as he unzips his pants, finds his dick, curls an arm around one of my legs, and lifts it. He grunts as he sinks his dick into my creamy pussy.
 

“Damn it,” he mutters, pumping in and out of me. “Oh…”

Our kissing is primitive. We tug at each other’s tongues and bite each other’s lips. I feel as though it’s been forever since we’ve kissed and never since we’ve kissed like this.

“I’m going to come.” He impales me as he shouts, “Fuck!”

Vince and I pant against each other’s mouths. He pecks at my lips. I feel his seed dripping down my inner thighs just as it did this morning.

“Are you going to leave me now?” I ask.

“No,” he says, out of breath. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Why did you treat me that way this morning?”

“It was a bad idea.” He looks down the stairs. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere quiet.”

He puts my leg down and fixes my dress. “You look sexy. If I hadn’t come, then you would have looked like this for other guys.”

“You don’t get to be jealous after what you did to me.”

“Yes, I do, Maggie.” He massages my thigh and sucks air between his teeth. “Hurry up and take us where we’re going.”

Vince and I wobble down the stairs, intoxicated with desire. We make it to the bottom, and I open the door to the dungeon. It’s a small room with a large window that looks over the canyons. A king-sized bed is pushed against the wall, each side of the bed has two cylinder shaped lamps dangling from the ceiling and a black furry rug rests at the foot of the bed.
 

“Is that a stripper pole?” Vince asks, pointing at what’s obviously a stripper pole on top of a platform next to the fireplace.

“Um, yes.”

“You ever use it?”

“Um, no.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Vince’s eyes land on my body. “That fucking dress.” He runs his fingers down my bare back.
 

His hard dick presses against my hip. I close my eyes and feel his fingers stroke my skin. They journey to the front and caress my nipples with constrained urgency. A squeal escapes him. He walks me to the bed, lays me down, and inches my dress up my thighs, enjoying the view of my pussy. This is why I could never fuck Robert or Dash.
 

His tongue laps my clit. I clutch the sheets as he sucks it, swirls it, and flicks it with his tongue. I scream and pull at the sheets. He pins my hips against the bed and does it faster. He moans and jabs his fingers into my slippery pussy. Then he stops cold turkey and crawls up the bed to lie beside me. His pants are still unfastened, and his dick sticks straight up.

“Really?” I say, still breathing heavily.

“Maggie, we have a problem.”

“I would say so.”

“You want to do whatever the fuck you want, when you want,” he says.

“It sounds like, for you, that’s an unfortunate consequence of me being a free human being.”

He snorts. “You have a sharp tongue.”

I try to sit up, but Vince holds me down. I look at him askew. “What’s this new act of yours all about?”

“It
is
an act.”

“I know!”

“Which means you quit your job over an act.”

“Correction, I made an ass out of myself in a room full of our colleagues over your act. But was Emily in on it? Because she seemed pretty convinced that there was a you and her and not a you and me.”

He’s silent for a while, facing my chest. “Are you wearing a new perfume?”

“No…” Then I remember. “Oh, Monroe sucked my tits.”

He balks. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Apparently she’s fluid.”

“Humph.”

“Humph, what?”

“How did you like it?”

I shrug. “It was like eating chicken.”

He chuckles. We grin at each other.
 

“You want to know the truth?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh.

“It felt weird but good. She can really suck nipples.”

“Better than me?”

I stretch my lower lip, squeamishly.
 

“Fuck no!” His tone is disbelieving.

I nod. He pulls the material down from over my breasts, exposing them. The band of my dress pushes my tits up, and they look luscious sitting high on my chest.

“Her mouth is softer, more sensual,” I say.

“Like this?” He slips between my legs.
 

His tongue is like velvet on my nipple. The stimulation is gentle as he makes the same circles Monroe did. His strong hands grip my ribcage as he bites a little and slowly rakes his teeth across the sensitive tip. I groan in pleasure. He repeats what he just did over and over. Just like Monroe, he puts his fingers between my legs.
 

“How was that?” he asks, stroking my slit.

I smirk. “You’re number one.”

He plunges his fingers into my pussy, stroking my G-spot. Flickers of pleasure swirl under the hood of my pussy.

“Am I?” He increases the stimulation.

I gulp and nod vigorously.

“Are you coming?” he asks.

I’m afraid to answer. He just might stop if I say yes. I concentrate, because there’s no way I’m not going to finish this time. He stops.

I groan. “Really?”

“I can’t reward you for bad behavior, baby. Get on your knees,” he orders.
 

Damn it, whatever game he’s playing is beginning to work. I just want to be fucked by Vince. So I get off the bed and plant myself on all fours on top of the rug. “Okay, I’m on my knees.”

“Be quiet, or I’m zipping up and leaving.”

I’m so close to challenging him, but he’s already demonstrated that he’ll take drastic action if I do something he doesn’t like. I sigh and roll my eyes.

“The eye roll and sigh are strikes one and two. I want to fuck you silly. Look at this.” Vince steps in front of me and grabs his rock-hard dick, stroking it up and down.
 

I want it inside me too.
 

“If I don’t see you in person, in real life—skin on skin, then I don’t want to see you at all,” he says.

“You don’t—”

“I said shut the fuck up.” He must be able to see how disturbed I am by his tone, because he sighs remorsefully and says, “Strike one for me. I shouldn’t speak to you that way. I just want to get one thing clear before we start.” He sets my engagement ring in front of me. “Put that on.”

I gaze up at him. I’ve been keeping the ring hidden away in my panty drawer at his house. I sit on my knees, slip on the ring, and show him.

Vince takes my hand. “Wear it. Now get on the bed and spread your legs, wide.”

I vacillate between doing what he says and telling him to go to hell. The game he’s playing is profoundly conflicting. I stand, and we’re face to face. The feathery breath he releases is like satin on my lips.
 

“Wait,” he says.
 

I gulp. Vince takes my dress by the hem and slides it up my thighs. His hands make my skin shiver, and his rock-hard erection pokes me. My nipples yearn for his mouth. My clit whimpers for his touch. My pussy screams to be penetrated by him. What a wicked game Vincent Adams is playing, and at the moment, I have no doubt that I’m all in.

***

Vincent Adams

No matter how hard Vince’s dick got or his mouth watered at the sight of Maggie’s beautiful body, he was determined not to fold under the pressure. The point was to make her ache for him, and not just moderately but excessively. He’d driven to Monroe’s house defeated, ready to apologize to Maggie for all the shit he’d done to her, even the shit he lied about.
 

He hadn’t seen her since her cousin Curtis’s wedding when she’d left him nearly an hour after the bride and groom said, “I do.” Later that night, Vince had gone with Charlie and two of Charlie’s friends to a small dive bar. Vince got three scotches closer to the moon, pissed that Maggie had banged him in the closet then left his dick high and dry. He felt as if he was the most sexually frustrated, loneliest motherfucker on the planet. Then Charlie’s friend, Thatcher Collins, asked him when was he marrying that “hot goddess.”

“I asked her,” Vince said.

“And what did she say?” Thatcher said.
 

“She said yes.”

“She doesn’t wear a ring. I checked.”

“Me too,” Peter Reece said.

“Every guy in the building checked. She’s fucking hotter than hot,” Thatcher said.

“She’s not that hot,” Charlie mumbled.

Vince snorted and gulped all the liquid in his glass. He raised the empty glass and called to the bartender for another.

“I haven’t seen her in a while. Where is she?” Thatcher asked.

“On her way to London,” Vince muttered, hating having to say it out loud.

“There was a reason why Maggie was single when you first met her,” Charlie said. He took a swig from his glass, not realizing all eyes were on him.

“Is she a crazy psycho bitch?” Thatcher asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Vince raised a finger. “Hey, she’s not a bitch.”

“Sorry, guy. Didn’t mean it that way. Look at her. What does she have to be bitchy about anyway?”

“Thatch,” Charlie said, “Maggie is a bitch. You cross her, and she’ll stab you with her stinger. Don’t let the Heidi costume fool you.”

Vince frowned into his scotch. He wasn’t going to rebut Charlie—needling each other was the nature of the two cousins’ relationship. Vince and Angelina had learned to stay out of it. Deep down, Maggie and Charlie loved each other until it hurt, but they’d been taking jabs at each other so long, they don’t know how to stop the insults. But Vince was conflicted as hell. Before Maggie had come along, the idea of marriage made him break into hives. Listening to his sisters warn him that his clock was ticking and he didn’t want to be bouncing babies on his bad knees when he was a senior citizen gave him a migraine. But every man he knew wanted to fuck Maggie, married or single. She had a universe full of options, and sealing the deal would make him her only choice.

“Deep under Maggie’s surface lives the soul of a cranky cat lady with no cats,” Charlie continued since he was on a roll.

Thatcher laughed his head off. “Why doesn’t she have any cats?”

“Because she’d have to feed them and buy kitty litter and shit. Sorry, Vince bro, but the question isn’t when you’re going to get married; it’s when are you going to get so fucking fed up that you finally dump her ass.”

“I’m never dumping her,” Vince said.

“I’ll remember that when you eat those words. Look, I love Mags. I really want the best for her, but she’s not wearing your fucking ring, is she? Maggie doesn’t believe in marriage. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you that. The best relationship she’s ever had was with herself.”