14 #2
I turn the TV on and flick through the stations, landing on some porn.
Staring at it, I lose myself to the completely idiotic storyline and horrible acting.
My eyes droop shut and I’m not surprised to picture Mitch, his big, broad body coming to mind, especially him in that light gray tee stretched tight over his muscles.
Last night, when his hands gripped my hips tight, a small part of me longed for him to lift me up and pin me to the wall.
I remember falling into his lap at the brewery, feeling him hard beneath me. The way his hand felt pressed against my back—strong and firm. The security and comfort that spread through me when I was locked within his arms.
I think of how he sometimes swipes his tongue across his lower lip and looks at me as if I’m pissing him off, but also, like he sort of loves it.
My thoughts drift further, and I imagine us alone on the brewery’s mezzanine, only this time I’m wearing a skirt and no panties.
Mitch takes me by the hips, spinning me around so I’m straddling his lap and facing him.
He slides his big, firm hands beneath my skirt to cradle my ass, his thick fingers digging into my flesh and pushing me down, letting me grind against him, knowing I need this.
The fiery lust in his green gaze becomes scorching as he watches me rub my aching core against his hard cock.
Meanwhile, in the safety of my living room, I reach a hand into my pants and stroke my wet pussy. I’ve never been this aroused, this hungry for an orgasm. It’s so close, right there on the outskirts of my mind.
All the while, I know Mitch is the last person I should let into my fantasies. He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t worthy of the sparks lighting up the base of my spine or the beads of sweat dotting my skin.
I can try to avoid it as much as humanly possible, but there’s no denying it; I’ve only ever felt this unattainable yearning to come when imagining fucking Mitchell Adams.
But this is my little secret. No one but me knows how close I am, how hard I’m rubbing my core, or pinching my clit. Cupping my breasts, tweaking my nipples. I’m being rough, abusive, as if channeling all my anger from the last couple of days onto my body.
I’ve all but forgotten the movie playing in the background when a knock at my door chases my orgasm away in a single breath.
I roll my eyes and release a growl. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Annoyed as hell, I walk to the door, telling myself that this time, I’ll just strip naked and make Tucker fuck me.
How dare he tease me, lead me on, leave me hanging, only to interrupt me while I’m about to come?
“Tucker, what the—”
Only, it’s not Tucker.
Mitch
Maxine opens the door, cheeks flushed, her loose hair a mess, and she seems out of breath, too.
“Mitch? What the fuck are you doing here?” she snaps.
“Everything okay?”
“Never better. But you’re the one standing outside my apartment in the middle of the night.” Sudden concern wipes away any blush she had as her hand falls from the doorknob. “Is it Bill?”
“No, nothing like that. He’s fine.”
“Oh, good.” Her shoulders sag. “So, why are you here?”
“Mind if I come in?”
“Umm…” A deep frown wrinkles her forehead. After three blinks, she runs a hand through her loose hair and shrugs. “I guess not.”
She moves aside, and that’s when I notice the TV. Or rather, what’s on screen.
I laugh, my eyes widening. “Am I disturbing something?”
She follows my gaze. “Oh, shit.” She rushes to switch it off and throws the remote onto the couch, then rubs a hand behind her neck, keeping her eyes down. “That was… I wasn’t watching it.”
I raise my hands. “Hey, what you do in your own time is entirely your thing.”
She juts her chin, crossing her arms. “You’re right. I’m a grown-ass woman and sometimes, I watch porn. So, sue me.”
Loving how proud she’s forcing herself to be, I smile. Then again, this could be actual pride. For all I know, Maxine might have become a sexually confident woman and isn’t that shy, awkward girl I remember.
The couch cushions are strewn about everywhere. The thought that she might have been touching herself isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever imagined.
I lose focus.
What was she doing when I showed up? Had I been a few minutes later, would I have overheard her coming?
I wince. I’m way too interested in knowing the answer to that.
“Seriously, Mitch,” she says, snatching me from my thoughts. “Why are you here? It’s—” She stops and checks her watch. “Two in the morning?” It’s as if she’s surprised it’s so late. “What are you doing here at two in the morning?”
I circle the couch and take a seat, trying hard to stop picturing her naked and spread-eagle in the same spot. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to pop by.”
“I’ve been thinking about our talk yesterday and what happened with my dad earlier. None of it is sitting well.”
“Oh, it’s way too late to be talking about this,” she states and finally joins me on the couch, hopping over the back of it.
“So what? You’re up, anyway.” My eyes drift toward the dark television screen. “Unless you’d like to get back to whatever you were doing.”
“I’ve had a day, Mitch. So, maybe I do. It might do me good to let off some steam.” She grins, but the way she bites down on the tip of her pink tongue draws my eye and heats my blood.
Distracting myself, I pick up the bottle of green liquid from the coffee table, its cool glass a stark contrast to my warm hand, and scan the label.
I spent most of my evening trying to forget everything my father brought up and made me rehash. I’d like to say it worked, but instead, I kept trying to figure out exactly why I’m so mad. Not only with my dad, but with Max, and especially with myself.
She tears the bottle from my hands and takes a swig from it, swallowing the alcohol down with an intense grimace. “Ugh. This is the worst thing ever invented.”
“Then why are you drinking it?” She hands me the bottle and I take a sip, making the same grossed-out face. Her light laugh, like wind chimes, instantly slows my racing heart.
“As I said, rough day.”
“And I’m guessing Fucker wasn’t around to take care of you?” I nod toward the TV screen.
“Ha. Funny.” Unamused, she side-eyes me, but I get the impression something else is going on, and it’s not just my joke falling flat.
“Oh, come on.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “I was only teasing you.”
“We’re done. I dumped him.”
“Oh.” I take a drink, immediately regretting it.
“Say it.” She takes the bottle back and sets it down on the table.
“Say what?”
“What you’re thinking.”
“I was thinking it’s a shame it didn’t work out between the two of you.”
She grabs the pack of Oreos, offering me one. I shove the entire cookie into my mouth, and Maxine gapes at me.
“What?” I ask, slowly chewing.
“You put the whole thing in your mouth.”
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s blasphemous,” she says, then looks away.
“Can’t I eat my cookies however I want?” I ask, grinning.
She shakes her head with a tiny laugh. “Sure you can. And you weren’t thinking that about me and Tucker.”
I frown. “Yes, I was.”
“Nope. You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are. I can tell,” she replies with a smirk.
“You can tell?” I laugh, licking my lips.
Suddenly her finger is on my left eyebrow and I freeze, stunned by her touch.
“This little guy twitches when you’re lying,” she explains. She leaves her finger there for a second longer, then brushes it along my brow before pulling her hand away. Goosebumps spread down my neck. The lingering warmth from her touch brings my hand up to cover my brow.
“Shut up. It doesn’t do that.”
“Uh-huh, it does,” she replies with a playful giggle that fills the room with the ghosts of our past. With something as simple as her shy smile, we’re kids again, hanging out, eating junk, being silly, without a care in the world.
I stare at her, noting how much more beautiful she’s grown. She stares back, but all too soon, she looks away and tucks her loose hair behind her ear. The quiet moment vanishes in a flash, and her face drops, her eyes darkening.
“For real, Maxine. I’m sorry about you and Tucker.”
“Wow, you used his name right. I’m impressed.”
“Seems only fair. I mean, he’s not with you anymore, so I can finally show him some respect.” I laugh, but the seriousness in her gaze cuts my laughter short.
“I thought he was different from the other richies,” she admits.
“I have to admit, I found it odd that you were dating one of them. That doesn’t seem like you.”
She cocks her head. “Haven’t we established that I’m not like I used to be?”
The subtle bite in her words is like a whip cracking through the air. “No, I guess you’re not.”
“I’m not sure what I was expecting from him. I liked that he was the complete opposite of what I usually go for. I wanted someone serious, with a good plan for the future, you know?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “On paper, Tucker was good for me. In practice…”
“Too boring?”
“Not boring. We had some good times. I guess I wasn’t right for him.” She shrugs, then steals another Oreo from the pack, but only after offering me one. “I wanted to be that person, but turns out I’ll forever be the dorky redhead with a foul mouth.”
“Why is that a bad thing? You shouldn’t have to change, Max. Especially not for a douche-canoe like him.”
She presses her lips together, holding back a smile, slowly twisting the top off her cookie. My eyes zero in on her small pink tongue, licking the icing clean like she used to do as a kid. Then, she sandwiches the two cookies together, eating them as one.
Nostalgia draws me in. I’m captivated, but also inappropriately turned on by how well she works her tongue.
Whatever she’s thinking about makes her laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.