Mercy (Salacious Players Club, #4)(26)

But to be clear, I’m not entirely sorry it happened. It was still hot as fuck, and I can’t get the memory of her tight pussy pulsing around my fingers out of my head.

I’m still thinking about it as I press the doorbell and still thinking about it when she opens the door, staring at me in shock.

“Beau,” she says sternly. Her giant gray dog stands calmly by her side, but she quickly sends him away, and he listens, obediently taking his place on the couch.

After last night, I’m seeing Maggie very differently, my eyes studying her as if this is the first time we’ve met. Never before noticing the sharp line of her lips, the sexy button shape of her nose, the innocence of her large blue eyes, the delicate softness of her pale skin. My eyes trail down to the spot just below her throat, that little divot between her collarbones, and my fingers itch to reach out and touch it.

Instead, I force myself to swallow and look up at her. “I just came to apologize for last night.”

“Last night didn’t happen,” she replies with confidence.

And for some reason that bothers me. Sure, it’d be easy to pretend the whole thing was just a glitch in the matrix and we can go back to our normal lives, but with the way I can’t get her out of my head, that’s going to be easier said than done.

I don’t like her pretending it didn’t happen. I don’t like knowing it’s that easy for her to forget.

When my gaze connects with hers, intensity burns between us, and it’s so strange to feel a fire where there was none before—at least not before last night.

“But it did happen,” I reply in a low mumble.

“According to us, sure. But as far as everyone else is concerned, nothing happened.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling somewhat defeated. I should just leave it at that. I apologized, sort of. Now I need to let it go.

But I can’t.

“Well, according to us,” I say, emphasizing that word, “it was pretty fucking amazing.”

She tenses, her eyes starting to gloss as if she’s lost in the memory. God, I want to kiss her again. Just for fun. Just because it feels like something I’m not supposed to do and I like the idea of rebelling, especially where my father is involved—seeing as how he’s the only reason Maggie feels compelled to push me away.

So, I pounce.

Closing the distance between us, I take her by the neck and crash our mouths together, slipping my tongue between her lips as she shoves against my chest. I don’t stop as we shuffle backward, and I slam the door behind me, pinning her against the wall the same way I did last night.

Soon, her fight turns into surrender and she relaxes into my arms, letting me explore her mouth again. Her hums and moans remind me of last night, and I love how vocal she is, urging me on with every little sound.

“Wait, Beau,” she gasps. “Stop.”

With one last nibble of her bottom lip, I pull away breathlessly, and we freeze there for a moment, both of us gasping for air. I wait for her to speak again because I frankly have no clue what to say. I thought I came here to apologize, but I’d rather slip back into her panties, if we’re being honest.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she says, and I’m already leaning back in again as I reply.

“Then punish me for it.”

I notice a shudder in her breath as those words travel to her ears. Just as my lips are about to find hers again, she shoves me back. “No, Beau, I’m serious. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because your father is my friend and business partner. And I’ve known you since you were a kid.” She shivers, a pained expression crossing her face.

“I’m not a kid anymore, though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replies. “It’s just…not right.”

I can’t keep the smile off my face as I step closer, resting an arm against the wall above her head. “Something about it being against the rules makes me want to do it that much more.”

I lower my mouth closer to hers. Before our lips touch, she slips out of my hold and spins me until it’s my back against the wall. With her hand pressing firmly on my chest, she stares up at me.

“That’s because you’re a brat, Beau.” She closes in, her breath landing against my lips.

“I can live with that,” I reply, just before taking her mouth in another harsh kiss. Our lips tangle as she hums again, latching her hand around the back of my neck. My cock throbs behind my jeans, and I grab her hips, grinding her against me, wanting her to feel what she’s doing to me.

“God, this is so bad,” she whimpers. And I get a thrill just from the way she tries to fight this decision.

“Can I touch you again?” I whisper against her neck. “I can’t stop thinking about your perfect little cunt.”

“Yes,” she replies without hesitation.

I quickly lift her pencil skirt and find the apex of her thighs with my fingers, running them along the soaked fabric of her panties. She hums in response, the sound of her pleasure sending a wave of pride through me.

Maybe it’s because she’s so vocal or because she gives off this authoritative energy, but I’m suddenly so turned on by the idea of pleasing her. I’m dying to make her come again. To my disappointment, she stops me before I have the chance.