Page 69 of Next in Line
“You’re lying to yourself!” he exclaims, his jaw taut with determination. “That stuff you’re saying about Sterling sounds like total bullshit. He is a douchebag, and you’re blind to it for some reason. It’s what Kate’s trying to tell you. Jesus hell, it’s what I’ve been trying to tell you too.”
“You’ve barely said a word about Sterling!”
“I’ve been trying to show you, sparky!” he growls, the veins in his neck pulsing as he presses in closer to me. His hands move to grip my hips, and he squeezes with an urgency I feel through every inch of my body. “I’ve been trying to show you that life is a hell of a lot more than just some ridiculous plan.”
I swallow slowly as he looms over me in all his statuesque glory. “Well, I think it worked because it appears he wants me back.”
“Is that what you want, though?” Sam asks, his eyes pleading as I tilt my chin to look up at him.
“I think so,” I reply, but my voice is weak and strangled as if the words are trying to hold themselves inside.
“Stop living your life for him, Maggie. Start living it for yourself.”
“Like you’re some great example of that!” I argue, thinking back to everything he said to me when we were ice fishing yesterday. “Your family is all you live for. So much so that you refuse to even open your heart to the idea of someone new in your life.”
Sam’s face contorts as if feeling stung by my statement. “At least the people I live for in my life actually love me back.”
As soon as the words come out of his mouth, I can’t stop my hand from swinging at his face. The slap is cruel and harsh but no more painful than the words he said to me. The words that speak to that painful part of my soul and scream at me that I’m never enough. I move to swing at him again because everything inside me hurts, but he catches that hand in his fist. I swing my first hand at him again, and he catches that one too. I struggle in his arms as he turns us and pins my wrists against the wall beside my head.
“Maggie, stop,” he pleads, his voice pained by my struggle.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Sam!” I cry, trying and failing to free myself from his grip.
“I know,” he says with a sigh. “But I can’t hear you lie about that fucking ex of yours anymore.”
“You’re lying too!” I bellow into his face, my voice deep with the emotion exploding inside me. “We’re both lying. We’re fucking trapped in this stupid plan of mine, and it’s exhausting because my heart is being pulled in so many different directions. I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s your heart saying you want right now?” he asks, his grip loosening on my wrists.
I drop my head back against the wall. “I wish I knew.”
“You do know, Maggie. Just say it.” His fingers lace between mine, no longer pinning me to the wall but holding my hands in a firm embrace.
I stare down at his chest, my jaw clenched in frustration because none of this is making any sense anymore. None. My heart knows what I need, but what I want is a very different thing. And what if what I want doesn’t want me back?
I move my eyes upward and utter one single, solitary word. “You.”
Sam’s eyes fall to my lips, and in two heartbeats, his mouth crashes into mine as he releases my hands and wraps his arms tightly around my waist. His tongue is demanding as it sweeps through my lips, parting them with a savage growl that I feel all the way through my core.
I whimper as he lifts me into his arms, and my legs grip his waist as he moves me from the wall to the top of the sink. His tongue continues to devour me as his hands move all over, touching and rubbing and kneading me in the most indelicate of places.
“Fucking tights,” he growls against my lips as his hand steals up my dress and pushes past the waistband to discover just how turned on I am right now. He groans with need as my slickness overwhelms both of us. “If you want me to stop…you’re going to need to say it.”
“Don’t stop,” I cry, my heart thundering wildly in my chest. “Don’t stop.”
In a rush, he yanks me off the sink and drops down to yank my tights off my hips. He fumbles hurriedly with my ankle boots, and when I’m bare from the waist down, he pulls a leg up to his shoulder and kisses me right where I need him most.
I cry out loudly, the noise of the bar upstairs noticeable but doing nothing to quiet me from the overwhelming sensations of Sam’s mouth on my sex. He sucks me hard and sharp into his mouth, and I cry out, my back arching as my heel digs into his shoulder blade. He assault is so aggressive, my orgasm detonates without warning.
My legs feel like Jell-O as he stands up, and I shakily reach for his belt, our hands colliding as we push his pants and boxers down only far enough to free his throbbing cock. I grab his shaft and sit back on the sink to guide him inside me.
“Fuck, I don’t have a condom,” he growls, his tip pressing into my wetness and feeling like everything I want for the rest of my life.
“I don’t care,” I cry and then reach around to grab his buttocks. “I’m on the pill, and I don’t care.”
His eyes lock on mine in shock as I pull him into me.All of him.
“Fuck, Maggie,” he cries, his voice guttural as he sinks to the hilt and stills. He leans in to caress my lips with his, and then he traces a path down my neck before hunching over to bite my nipple through my dress.
