Louie stared at me with a slight tilt of his head. “Have you ever done anal?” he asked, eyes dropping to my lips, then back up to my eyes.
In the past, the thought of anal had turned me off, but envisioning Louie taking me from behind felt like a forbidden fantasy. I shook my head.
“Does it make you hot hearing about me and Jameson sharing someone?”
I gave him a slight nod. If I hadn’t drunk enough liquid courage, I doubt Sober Me would have ever answered that.
His sapphire eyes darkened at my response and he scooted closer, erasing the space between us. “Would it turn you on if I told you we took turns with her for the rest of the night, barely getting a minute of sleep, while the other watched?” Lips parting slightly, my breathing began to pick up. His hooded eyes dropped to them. “The second time we shared her, I bent her over, slammed myself into her pussy while Jameson shoved his cock between her lips to fuck her mouth.” His hand came up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my bottom lip. “You have to stop looking at me like that, babe.”
“Why?” My voice shook.
“You’ve been drinking. I’ve been drinking. We’re not thinking…just feeling,” he said, inching his face closer to mine.
“I like what I’m feeling,” I whispered, licking my lips, sliding the tip of my tongue across his thumb in the process.
That seemed to snap the tethers holding him back and his lips molded against mine. He nipped at my bottom lip, coaxing from me a breathy moan. Taking advantage of my parted lips, his tongue glided into my mouth. He tasted good. Like warm whiskey.
His hand made a slow descent from my cheek, fingers gently exploring as they went. They tickled my skin as they trailed down my neck, caressed over my breast, and curved around my hip. He pulled me closer. Without breaking our kiss, I straddled his lap. He grasped my hips with both of his strong hands and rocked me over his hard shaft. I whimpered. The movement caused a delicious friction against my core, leaving me wanting more.
Things were quickly becoming heated. Our kissing turned frantic and rough. Until something changed. His lips ripped away from mine. “I can’t.” He squeezed his eyes closed before dropping his head back to rest on the couch cushion with a frustrated sigh. I froze on top of him. Being drunk could help numb a lot of things, but not the sting of rejection. As if sensing the change in me, his head popped back up to look at me. “No.” Both of his hands cupped my cheeks. “I want you. Believe me, I really do,” he assured. “But fuck, I can’t hurt him. Jameson loves you. He’s always loved you and as much as I want you for myself…he’s my best friend,” he said, ending on a pleading note, willing me to understand.
I did. We were both drunk and had allowed our hormones to take control. I was hurt and angry with Jamie, but no matter how bad I felt, I’d never want to come between them.
“That’s good to know,” a voice said from behind me, startling us both. Louie’s eyes widened when they saw whoever was standing behind me. I peeked over my shoulder apprehensively. Standing by the front door, which was currently wide open, was Jamie. He held an unreadable mask as he stared down at us.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, anger seeping into my voice. The longer I looked at him, the more the memory from this afternoon replayed in my head.
“Does it matter?” His voice was calm, giving away nothing as to how he felt.
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter,” I bit out and stood from Louie’s lap. The world tilted, causing me to tilt with it. I caught myself on the couch. Once I was sure footed, I scooped up my phone and purse.
“What are you doing?” Louie asked, watching me from the floor.
“Going home.” I scrolled through the notifications on my phone. Dean had texted me saying he was outside if I needed him. Perfect! That saved me from calling a car service. I stepped towards the front door to leave, but Jamie hadn’t moved and was blocking my exit. “Please, move,” I said to his chest, refusing to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. He looked sexy as hell, like always. I hated it.
“You can’t drive. We drank an entire bottle of whiskey,” Louie argued, then groaned as he rubbed down his face with his hands. “I’m fucked up. Which means you’re definitely fucked up.”
“I’m not driving. Dean’s outside,” I said, placing my hand on the wall to prevent myself from falling over.
“Give us a minute?” Jamie asked, staring at Louie.
They seemed to do that silent communication thing until Louie eventually nodded. He got to his feet, stumbling on his way up. “Take all the time you need, man,” he said, shuffling into his bedroom, and shut the door. Jamie kicked the front door closed with his heel and leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest.
Fuck my life! I angrily tossed my purse on the couch before plopping down on it. Hunched over with my elbows resting on my knees, I rubbed at my temples. I was too drunk to deal with this shit right now. “What part of me not wanting to see or speak to you again did you not understand?” He stayed silent as he continued to stare at me. “Why the hell are you even here, Jamie?”
“Stefan said you were here.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Wow, talk about answering without actually fucking answering.”
“I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Maura.”
“Then why are you here! What do you want?”
“Is it so hard to believe that I’m here for you?”
“Is that so?” Skeptical, I narrowed my eyes. “Where’s your new whore?”
An angry fire lit in his eyes. It was the first glimpse of emotion he'd let slip since he arrived. “There’s nothing going on between me and Angela. There never has and never will,” he declared with such conviction, it was almost convincing. Almost.
I leaned back against the couch, exhausted. Closing my eyes for only a moment, I got the spins. Bad idea. Abort! Abort! Vomit threatening to erupt from my stomach like a volcano made me sit back up. I took a breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. Please don’t throw up.
“Did you know the De Lucas are who killed my dad?” Jamie asked. I'd known his father was killed during a turf war, but I hadn't known who'd been responsible. “Things have been hostile between us and the Italians for generations. Nicoli’s uncle Giovanni, the don before him, was who put the hit out on my dad. One of Giovanni’s enforcers hid in the backseat of my dad’s car and shot him in the back of his head.”
“I’m sorry.” I truly was. I understood what it was like to lose a parent and grow up not really knowing who they were. “Did the family or Stefan…I know he wasn’t the head of the family at the time, but did we get back at them?”
“Stefan took out the enforcer and mailed him back to Giovanni piece by piece.” Jamie smiled a little. “If you ever wondered where you get your sick sense of justice, look no further.”
Remembering how I had threatened Stefan to do the same to Angela had me fighting back my own small smile. That explained why he'd looked proud instead of mad. “I’m surprised he didn’t go after Giovanni.”