So Screwed

by Melissa Marino

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said as I approached the bar. “Come here.”

  He leaned over and kissed me across the bar. “I missed you,” he mumbled against my lips.

  “Same. It’s why I’m here and also I need an Abel Manhattan.”

  “You got it.”

  “Can I steal you for just one second, though, first?”

  His eyebrows lifted, mischief written all over his face. “Bathroom romp?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I said. I ran my finger down the length of the bar and wiggled my finger at him to follow me.

  We met at the end of the bar where his hand slipped around my waist, bringing me close to him. He kissed the top of my head, lingering and sighing as he guided us into the dimly lit hallway.

  “We can go in here for a minute,” he said, pushing open a door. “Marshall’s office, but he won’t care.”

  He stepped aside as I entered, whistling as I passed him. “Hell, beautiful. That skirt. Your ass.”

  “Close the door,” I said.

  “You know I’m always down, and I have to admit there’s something taboo about doing it in my boss’s office, but—”

  “Shut up, and close the door.”

  He showed his hands up to me, giving in to my demand. After he shut it, he looked at me over his shoulder. “Should I lock it?”

  “Yes.”

  The lock clicked, and before he could turn back around, I lifted the admired skirt. His eyes took a moment to narrow in on my panties, to what was written on them.

  “A little something for my favorite bartender,” I said.

  His feet dragged against the worn carpet as he rubbed his hand over his beard. “Goddamn.”

  My panties were sporting a martini glass down the middle, with the words “I Could Use a Stiff One” printed above it. After I’d come across them in a catalog dedicated for bachelorettes, I knew they were perfect for my man. While not made for a day of running around or comfort, I snuck them in my purse and changed before I left.

  He ran his fingers across the silver, embroidered letters, sliding them around just so they rubbed against my clit. His head lowered as his size surrounded me. It drove me wild when he commanded and encompassed my body. It was strong and man and mine all rolled into one.

  “You bought these for me?” he asked.

  I nodded, unable to form words the way his fingers, the palm of his hand, was working me over. His breath was sweet and warm as he rested his lips close to my ear. “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard for me in these.”

  A loud pounding broke the moment. “You two better not be fucking in my office! Payroll is all over the desk, and I don’t want it covered in your spunk, Abel.”

  “Soon,” he whispered. “I’ll also give you the stiff one you really want later. Right now, I’ll make you a stiff cocktail.”

  After a quick kiss and a skirt readjustment, he grabbed my hand to leave. Once he unlocked the door, it flew open from the opposite side. Marshall’s face was red with anger, his arms folded tightly against his chest.

  “No offense with what I’m about to say, Evelyn,” Marshall said. “But hell, Abel. If you don’t go grab those bottles of gin I asked to you to get, I’ll castrate you myself and you won’t be able to fuck anyone ever again.” He paused and seemed to regroup. “Sorry again, Evelyn.”

  “I’m sorry for stealing your office to show my boyfriend my underwear,” I said.

  “Be right back,” Abel said, rushing out. “On it, boss.”

  Marshall jerked his head to the side. “Come on. I make any cocktail better than him,” Marshall said.

  I followed him back down the hallway, a few of the servers saying “hello” to me as they rushed back and forth. A well-dressed twentysomething, who looked like he was Brooks Brothers fresh, was waiting outside the bathroom. As I passed him, I recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t recall where.

  “Evelyn, right?” he said, placing his hand lightly on my arm to stop me.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll have it all ready for you,” Marshall said, moving ahead.

  “Thanks,” I replied before turning my attentions to Mr. Brothers. “I apologize. It’s been a long day, and I absolutely recognize you, but can’t place you.”

  “I’d imagine you see a lot of faces at weddings,” he said with a smirk.

  He removed his hand from me and stepped back against the wall where he leaned up against it. Although it wasn’t blatant, the back walk certainly gave him the opportunity to quickly look me over.

  “I certainly do, so help a girl out?” I asked.

  He extended his hand out to shake mine. “Michael. I was the best man at the Hobbs-Billings wedding last November.”

  “Right! Yes. You helped me get the drunk uncle out of the bathroom. Thanks again for that by the way,” I said.

  He gave a bow, complimenting himself and perhaps using his good looks to appear noble. “I think it was in the job description,” he said.

  His gaze became more aggressive, focusing on my chest while licking his lips, as he pushed himself forward. A slow swagger, a hand up above my head against the wall, and a head dip followed. He was all up in my space. “What brings you out tonight?”

  “My—”

  “Her fucking boyfriend, dickhead,” Abel said from the darkness at the end of the hall. His feet pounded against the carpet as he approached us, a couple bottles of gin in each hand.

  “No problem, dude,” Michael said, lifting his palms to him. “Just recognized her from a wedding we were at together.”

  Abel stepped up close to him, towering above him by several inches. “I could see you sizing her up from forty feet away before inviting yourself into her space,” he said.

  Michael considered his words and obviously had a death wish. “I heard you. Now maybe you should go back to pouring the champagne for me and friends.”

  “All right,” I said, grabbing Abel’s arm. “Come on.”

  “Hold on a second, beautiful.”

  Abel shook his head and chuckled while glaring at Michael. “You ever look at my girl like that again or get too close to her, I’ll be the one popping a bottle as I toast to how I beat the fuck out of you.”

  I was simultaneously scared of the rage that emerged from Abel and completely turned on with his alpha male dominance. “Thank you,” I said. I tugged his arm again. “Come on. You owe me a drink. And Michael? You didn’t stand a chance anyway.”

  I moved behind Abel and nudged him forward, but his stare never left Michael.

  “It’s about time,” Marshall said as I slid into a bar chair across from him. “Did you guys have to go for round two already?”

  Abel mumbled under his breath as he stomped back and forth along the length of the bar while banging the bottles down. He seemed sure he wasn’t going to break those bottles, but I wasn’t. I’d never seen him get so angry.

  “Shit,” Abel said. “We need ice, too. I’ll be right back.”

  He stomped away in a huff as Marshall slid my Manhattan across to me. “Hey,” he said. “Did he have trouble getting it up back there? Because the best thing to do in those situations, not that I would know but I’ve heard, is to ignore it. He probably already feels like shit. I mean, our dicks are like our Holy Grail, all special powers and shit. Anything to do with that area and we’re screwed. Plus, we don’t want you girls to think it’s you because face it you’re really hot and—”

  I patted his hand to shut him up. “No. There are no problems, like ever, in that area. And if you care anything about your penis or any other part of your body, don’t let Abel hear you call me hot. He nearly tore a guy’s head off back there and shoved it down his throat for talking too close to me.”

  “Pfft,” he snorted. “I ain’t afraid of him, but that does explain his reaction. He’s crazy about you, and shit like that makes us guys crazy all over.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, taking a sip from my drink. “Wait. Is this Russell’s Res
erve?”

  “Wow,” he said, nodding. “Impressive. A girl who knows her whiskey. I can see why Abel is so taken, and I mean that in a I’m-not-trying-to-pick-up-my-buddy’s-girl kind of way.”

  “Don’t tell him, but yours is better,” I said, reaching for my purse. “How much do I owe you?”

  Marshall curled his lip slightly as he shook his head. “Get out of here with that.”

  I never wanted to appear like I was taking advantage, so no matter if it was Marshall or anyone else, I’d hide some cash under my napkin, only to be found after I was gone. Abel appeared again, a bag of ice lifted onto his shoulder that he slammed down next to the well. “What are you two talking about all cozy-like?”

  “Abel,” I said warningly. “Lock it up, handsome. You’re being cranky.”

  “I’m not cranky, but every time I turn around you’re talking to another dude.”

  “Marshall isn’t a dude,” I said.

  “Well, I am,” Marshall said. “But. Yeah.”

  “And furthermore,” I said. “Seriously. Lock it up.”

  Abel spun around and crossed his arms in front of him. “And by the way Marshall. Where the hell are the barbacks to do this shit?”

  “I told you,” Marshall said, raising his voice. “Two have the stomach flu, and one didn’t show up. Deal with it.”

  Marshall raised his eyebrows to me before walking right past Abel. Me? I took a long sip from my cocktail, contemplating between leaving or waiting until he was done in an hour to yell at him properly. Putting him in his place and causing a scene wasn’t my style—in fact, I hated couples that fought in public. However, he took a severe misstep and needed to be put in his place.

  “Want a ride home?” I asked. “Or I’ll just talk to you tomorrow?”

  He wiped his hands on a towel before taking notice of a customer at the other end of the bar. “You drinking more?” he questioned.

  “No. I’m not getting wasted and offering to drive you home.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I did, but if you’re going to keep on not showing your dimples, I might reconsider.”

  He appeased me by flashing a quick smile before patting my hand and heading over to help the waiting customer. I sat back and watched him, how his hands moved to make a cocktail, how his smile flirted between warm and dazzling. He took everything that was on his mind and removed it to do his job. I loved watching him.

  The bar slowly dwindled down, and when the doors were locked for the night, I hung back while they finished up their work. By the time Abel and I left, it was close to two a.m., but the heat from the summer’s day still rose off the pavement. Once we were in the privacy of my car, I turned to face him.

  “That,” I said, pointing my finger toward WET, “was bullshit. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What?” he asked, his voice going up an octave.

  “Don’t give me that. You all but decapitated that dude Michael and then went off on Marshall. Why?”

  He ran his hands through his hair roughly before bringing them down across his beard. “I’m sorry, beautiful. I…don’t even know what happened to me tonight.”

  “I do. You acted like a jealous asshole, and while I have no problem with you being all controlling in bed, I’m not cool with it anywhere outside of there.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. It was a dickhead move to call out Marshall like that.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “The dude in the hallway. He was the best man in one of my client’s weddings. It didn’t look good, and it’s bad for business. Bridget will flip her shit if she finds out.”

  “Wait. That’s what you’re mad about?”

  “That’s part of it and what started everything.”

  “Well, I’m not sorry about that part. That jerk was practically humping your leg, and girls don’t see it like guys do.”

  “Do you think we’re idiots? That I’m an idiot? Of course we know. We know exactly what you’re doing. We also know how to handle it.”

  “But you weren’t handling it. You were…letting…him.”

  “Letting him what? You’re being ridiculous, and if you don’t stop, you’ll be spending our birthday alone.”

  He crossed his arms and started pouting all over again. It was infuriating and endearing all at the same time. While I knew he thought it was coming from a righteous place—the need to want to take care of me—he wasn’t understanding that I didn’t need to be taken care of.

  “Abel,” I said slowly in an attempt to calm my nerves. “I think maybe this was something we never covered. I don’t need to be taken care of. I don’t need to be saved. I don’t need anyone getting jealous because I’m only talking to another guy.”

  “Okay,” he whispered. “Sorry.”

  I removed his hand from his face, which he was rubbing at aggressively, and placed my hand there instead. “Look at me,” I said. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re my guy and I don’t want anyone else.”

  He began to relax against my touch as his eyes shifted across mine.

  Looking.

  Searching.

  I knew what he was doing. I’d done it so many times without him even knowing it. He was seeking the truth. He was trying to make sure he could trust me. I didn’t even have to tell him that. I just knew he’d know.

  “Trust me,” I said. “I’m working on it, too.”

  He leaned across our seats and kissed me, lingering longer than normal. “I want to do everything better for you,” he mumbled against my lips.

  An ache shot through my chest, burning my heart so much so I lost my breath for a moment. There had been many men, a lot of sex and more intimate moments than I cared to recall, but no one had ever made me feel so whole. Completely Evelyn. He was seeing all of me, and I was letting him.

  “Let’s get you home, handsome,” I said, starting my car and pulling it out of gear.

  He rested his hand on my bare knee as I drove, dancing his fingers across the top. “Things go well earlier?”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Same ol’. Same ol’.”

  “You look tired,” he said.

  I shrugged. “My brain is but I’m wired everywhere else. Wedding season, leaving for Charleston soon and all the work there has me so tense everywhere.”

  The streets were nearly empty except for cab drivers and others heading home from the bars. Abel’s hand inched from my knee up between my thighs, his fingers lightly brushing over my panties.

  “What are you doing there, mister?” I asked.

  “Remembering you wore those for me,” he said. “Plus, I want to try and take some of that tension away I feel a little bit responsible for.”

  The light turned red, and I stopped, but his fingers didn’t. “Can you, um, wait until you get me home before…”

  His dimples went deep as he scooted closer to me. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I won’t let you come yet. Promise.”

  It all happened so fast. The light turned green and I gunned it, my tires screeching against the pavement at the same moment as Abel ducked his head into my lap.

  In one swift move he pulled my underwear to the side, and his mouth…his tongue…was on me. His head was banging into my steering wheel, and in an attempt to balance my boyfriend giving me road head and driving, I fumbled with the level until it was out of his way.

  One hand on the steering wheel and the other in his hair as my body grooved against his mouth. I secretly hoped for a red light or somewhere I could pull over, but we were so close to his building.

  “God, Abel,” I moaned. “You’re going to break your promise.”

  He lifted his head for moment. “Oh no, I’m fucking not.”

  He dipped back down and, with even more rapid aggression, worked me all over as my foot on the accelerator pressed harder. I turned into the underground parki
ng garage and sped down the ramp. I was so close to coming as I pulled into a parking spot and threw the gear into park.

  “Right there,” I panted. “Yes.”

  His head popped up and he smirked at me as he wiped his mouth. “Not yet, beautiful.”

  I pouted. “That’s mean. Why would you do that?”

  “Because I’m going to take you to my bed and fucking feast on you. I want my lips, my tongue, and my dick all over you so you won’t even be near another guy without him knowing you belong to me.”

  He exited the car, leaving me shocked and my jaw hanging open. It took me a few moments, but I came to and rearranged my undies back into place.

  Abel popped his head back in from the opened passenger side door. “You all right there?” he asked with a wink.

  He shut the door and leaned up against it, giving me the perfect view of his ass. His loud chuckling also didn’t escape my attention.

  Cocky motherfucker.

  I exited my side, the smell of car oil and the fireworks that had been set off earlier at Navy Pier lingering in the air. There was no else around. With one wave of my finger, Abel followed me across the dark garage. As we waited for the elevator he leaned into me to kiss my neck, but I jerked back.

  “Nope,” I said. “It’s your turn to wait now.”

  The elevator door opened, and as we stepped in, Abel pushed me forward up against the back of it. “Is that so?” he asked, stretching his arms up above my head.

  The door closed and began ascending, but Abel slammed his hand on the control panel. We jerked to a stop as the tip of Abel’s teeth gingerly sunk into my neck. “I’m planning on finishing what I started. Right here,” he said.

  He sunk to his knees, and there was no doubt he wanted to keep his word.

  * * *

  I was glad we kissed and made up all night long because I would’ve felt guilty for sleeping in past ten a.m. His side of the bed was empty, and when I ran my hand across the sheets, it was cool. He’d been up for a while. I stretched my arms above my head, yawning loudly.

  “You awake finally, sleepyhead?” Abel shouted from the other room.

  “Yes. And how are you such an earlier riser when you’re used to sleeping until noon?”