Can't Hold Back

by Molly McLain

  It was now or never.

  “I’ve been wet for hours. But I’m not ready to leave yet. Just a little longer? Please?” She pushed up to kiss him and was met with another growl.

  “You’ve got an hour.”

  “That’s all I need.”

  Chapter Five

  Maddie had always been bold sexually. She knew she was gorgeous, a wet dream come true, and she’d never hesitated in taking what she wanted, then giving back tenfold.

  But blowing him on the beach was probably the most unrestrained she’d ever been, aside from the fetish shit they’d played around with back home. He just wasn’t a foot guy. And he didn’t mind tying her up, but he preferred her hands on him while he gave her pleasure. Up until tonight, she’d always been content, like him, to keep their sex life behind closed doors. So to say he was surprised by her audacity would be an understatement.

  What surprised him even more was how badly he wanted to fuck her. Right now. He eyed the club for dark corners, trying to gauge his best bet. And to think he’d come less than five minutes earlier.

  “Where’d you go, bella?” Armando wrapped his arm around Maddie’s shoulders as they found the group in the crowd once again.

  “We just needed some air.” His wife winked up at him and Dan grinned, because what guy wouldn’t? The instructor might be trying to stake a claim, but it was Dan’s ring on her finger and it had been his dick in her mouth out there in the sand. In no time at all, it’d be his dick pumping into her tight little pussy, too.

  Kyla and Tanner both laughed at the obvious lie, but Armando frowned. He shot Dan an eat-shit-and-die stare as his grip tightened around Maddie.

  Go ahead, asshole. Try all you like.

  “Ready for another round on the dance floor?”

  “Absolutely. Unless you’d rather I not?” She arched an eyebrow at Dan and he saw that mysterious challenge in her eyes once again.

  He’d had enough of this game they were playing, but another couple minutes would help him decide on the best possible place to get inside her. “Nope. Go on.”

  She wet her lips and gave a short nod before she let Armando get them lost in the mass of dancers. Dan tried to keep a bead on them, but they moved further into the crowd this time and, in no time, they were swallowed up.

  “So...” Kyla cleared her throat and gave him a coy, sex kitten smile. He quickly eyed her boyfriend for a reaction, but the only thing the guy gave him was a sly grin as he kneaded the girl’s shoulders.

  “So?” Dan mimicked, still scanning the club. There was a darkened hall toward the back and, as he contemplated its usefulness, a woman with messy sex hair stumbled out into the flashing lights, a grinning man in tow. Bingo. Mission: Dirty Club Sex activated. He began to slide off his stool, intent on finding Maddie and—

  “You’re pretty hot. I bet your cock is huge,” the blonde purred, and he froze. Well, with the exception of another glance at Tanner, fully expecting a prompt jack to the jaw. But the guy’s grin only grew, as his hands coasted down Kyla’s chest, officially breaching second base territory. Hell, the guy was tweaking his girlfriend’s nipples through her tank top right friggin’ there in front of him. “You and Maddie seem pretty open. What do you think about coming back to our room tonight?”

  Huh?

  Dan blinked and looked from the blonde to her boyfriend. Surely, he hadn’t heard right. But both of them just stared at him expectantly. “Um, I don’t think so.”

  Kyla stuck out her bottom lip. “Aw, why not? You guys roll like that, don’t you?”

  Uh... “No.”

  Tanner shrugged. “Told you they were only into three-ways.”

  “Three-ways?”

  The younger man grinned. “Or maybe you just like to watch.”

  “Are you saying...?” He shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around the concept, let alone the accusation. “Watch you two?”

  “Or Maddie and Armando.” Kyla winked before wrapping her lips around her straw.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Dan cast his eyes toward the dance floor and he caught a glimpse of red, but the lights had dimmed so much, he couldn’t make out whether or not it belonged to his wife’s dress. “Maddie and Armando?” he choked out.

  The blonde nodded slowly, one brow arched, like she thought he was an idiot. “You don’t see it, do you?”

  “See what?” Yeah, the surfer was a little free with his hands. And yeah, it got him a little hot around the collar, but that was the extent of it. There was no way in hell it’d ever go further than that, so to have these two insinuate something so ridiculous was starting to piss him off.

  “She wants the dick, man.” Tanner nodded toward the dancers and Dan followed. Maddie and Armando were right on the edge now, and—

  Motherfucker.

  His wife’s hands were in the instructor’s hair, while one of the guy’s palms molded to her breast and the other squeezed her ass. Beneath her dress. The real kick in the nuts was the guy’s lips—his fucking lips—sucking on her neck.

  “Oh, hell, no.”

  Instantaneous rage boiling in his veins, Dan stalked immediately to the dance floor, wrapped his hand around the back of Armando’s neck, and jerked the man’s mouth and hands off of his wife. Jerked Maddie’s hands off of him.

  “Lo siento, Dan. She’s so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.” Armando stumbled backwards, his hands held up in defense.

  But it was too late for explanations. There wasn’t anything that would excuse the asshole’s nerve. Dancing was one thing, but to manhandle another man’s wife? That shit didn’t happen without dire consequences.

  Without another thought, Dan drove his fist into the surfer’s perfect white teeth, knocking his head back with an audible snap. Armando staggered further into the crowd, but the crush of bodies kept him from hitting the floor.

  Dan rolled his shoulders and prepared for another hit. He hadn’t kicked ass since he was in college, but the urge to defend and protect—to claim—seemed to be an attribute hardwired into anything with a dick. It all came back like second nature. You touch a guy’s woman and you get your nuts served to you on a friggin’ skewer, simple as that.

  “Dan! Stop!” Maddie grasped onto his arm, but he shrugged her off and went after the instructor again.

  Armando was ready this time, despite the blood dripping down his chin. He lifted his fists and swung as he came at him, but Dan’s limited intake of alcohol made him more alert and agile than the surfer. He rotated back, feeling nothing but wind against his face.

  Reaching out, he grabbed the touchy asshole by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward until they were nose to nose. Dan had to force himself to breath as perspiration beaded on his brow and possession singed his every nerve. Whatever game he and Maddie were playing at? It was done. Completely, fucking done.

  “Damn right she’s beautiful. I know that better than most, seeing as she’s my wife. Not your little play thing. My wife. Mine.” The spit flew from his mouth as he spoke, jaw clenched, words measured. From the panic in the surfer’s eyes, the guy was on the verge of shitting himself and, as soon as Dan let him go, he was gonna run with his tail between his legs.

  Fucking pussy.

  “We clear on that, you slimy bastard? I so much as see you look in her direction again and I’ll knock every one of those teeth right out of your mouth.”

  The guy nodded and held up his hands again. “I’m sorry, man. For real. I didn’t mean it.”

  Didn’t mean to get his ass beat was more like it.

  He gave the guy a hard shove and he stumbled away, wiping at his mouth and putting as much space between them as possible. Eyes over his shoulder, watching his back, Armando hurried toward the back of the club and then slipped out of sight.

  Dan clenched and unclenched his fists, and his ears rang so loud, he was getting a goddamn headache. He’d been so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t noticed the circle that had formed around them. He half expect
ed to see a bouncer ready to throw him out on his ass, but there wasn’t a single person who looked shocked about the bloodshed.

  No one but Maddie, anyway.

  She stood off to the side, her eyes wide and her chest heaving. Emotion—what kind he couldn’t tell—pooled in her eyes and she reached out for him, her fingers trembling.

  But he stepped back and shook his head.

  She’d let that prick touch her. Not just touch her, but touch her. That line he thought they were both so clear on? The one their wedding vows had solidified? She’d crossed it. And if felt like a friggin’ dagger, twisting in his chest.

  He needed to get the hell out of there, before he totally flipped out. He’d trusted her with everything he had and this is what she did?

  Before he knew it, he was at the front door of the club, everything around him a blur. The ringing in his ears had turned into a relentless, high-pitched hum. Vaguely, he wondered if she’d followed after him, but he didn’t dare look back. He couldn’t see her right now.

  He needed space. And lots of it. From the woman he’d just committed his life to.

  How fucked up was that?

  Chapter Six

  She’d pushed him too far.

  Crap, crap, crap.

  Yes, he was supposed to get pissed—it brought out the side of him she wanted so badly to see—but he wasn’t supposed to walk away. He wasn’t supposed to run. He definitely wasn’t supposed to look at her with so much disgust and hatred in his eyes.

  Kicking off her shoes, she hurried out of the club, desperate to catch him before he got too far away. But the night was in full swing now and the people outside the club were just as thick as they were inside. She couldn’t see a foot in front of her, let alone spot Dan in the chaos.

  “Whoa, baby, slow down.” A younger guy with a spike in his lower lip and a tattoo snaking up his neck put his hands on her shoulders and caught her when she almost tripped over her own feet. He looked her up and down with such obvious intent, she felt queasy, barely containing the urge to punch him in the face and scream.

  Her husband had just witnessed what he thought was her stepping out, and he’d run off before she could explain that wasn’t the case. She didn’t have time for another asshole like this.

  “Where’s the fire?” the pierced guy asked, his eyes glued to her cleavage.

  “Get. Your goddamn hands. Off of me.” She pushed him away and shouldered her way to the main path, sucking in breath after breath of much needed air. Then she spun in circles, frantically searching the smattering of people for Dan, but to no avail.

  Of course, he wouldn’t want to be found—she’d seen the hurt and the cold resignation in his eyes before he turned his back on her.

  This is what you get for being so selfish! If you would’ve just told him what you want, instead of insisting he figure it out, this never would’ve happened!

  Tears prickled in her eyes and she forced herself to swallow against the agonizing pressure—the guilt—in her throat.

  This was her fault, and now the person she cared most about in the world was off somewhere feeling like she’d betrayed him.

  She did a quick sweep of the beach and the nearby cabanas, though she knew she wouldn’t find him there. Her heart was heavy, as she sulked back to the villa. He’d have to go back there eventually.

  Wouldn’t he?

  Her emotions threatening to burst as she approached their cluster of buildings. But a fifty-something couple in matching Hawaiian shirts approached from the opposite direction, clearly heading to one of the other attached units, and she was forced to keep her tears at bay.

  She imagined Dan sitting in a cabana somewhere, drinking himself numb, trying to wash away the sight of her letting Armando make a move. She hated herself for ever thinking what she’d done would be a good idea. For foolishly thinking that Dan would immediately understand exactly what she wanted from him.

  Warm yellow light spilled from the main entrance of the compound and the matching couple laughed quietly together. She followed slowly behind, still barefoot and still in shock. But as soon as the suite door closed after her, she was going to break.

  Ahead of her, the man put his hand on the small of the woman’s back and waited patiently while she fobbed open their door. He leaned in and murmured something in her ear and Maddie’s heart lurched.

  Last night, that had been her and Dan. Tonight, she was going to bed alone.

  A soft sob escaped her throat and the couple turned.

  A deep crease bisected the woman’s brow. “Honey, are you okay?”

  No. “I will be.” Digging her keycard from her purse, she forced a smile, despite her shaky hands.

  “You sure?” the man asked.

  All Maddie could do was nod her head and quickly escape into the privacy of her room.

  The warm dam of tears burst in her eyes as soon as the door closed and, leaning back against it, she slid to the floor, letting the uncontrollable sobbing take over.

  The suite was dark and quiet—too quiet—and it smelled excruciatingly like Dan’s aftershave. God, she’d messed up. In a big way.

  Head hung in her hands, she cried until she couldn’t anymore. Until her face felt dry and itchy, and her mouth felt like she’d chewed on tissue for dinner. But this? This would be nothing compared to how she’d feel if Dan didn’t—

  No. No, she wouldn’t allow the idea to even formulate in her head. He would come back and she would make this right.

  A sound in the hall had her scrambling to her feet, sniffling and wiping furiously at the evidence of her breakdown.

  The roll of a late night room service cart squeaked outside the door and she sagged against the sink, tears she didn’t think she had in her slipping down for another round of woe-is-me.

  After what felt like hours, she padded into the bedroom, flung herself on the bed and, by some small miracle, fell fast asleep.

  ***

  “No offense, man, but you look like shit. And I’m pretty sure I’ve served you way more whiskey than you’re gonna like in the morning. Let’s make this the last one, huh?”

  Dan grunted and raised his middle finger as the bartender set the final glass of Jameson on the bar. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as he wanted to be, so there was no way he’d let the guy cut him off just yet. “I thought it was your job to cater to losers like me, not insult us.”

  The man, a twenty-something American with orange tips in his dark hair, snorted. “You’ve been sitting at my bar for over two hours, turning that wedding ring around on your finger like it’s cutting off your circulation. My guess is there’s a pretty little woman somewhere who isn’t going to appreciate you stumbling home all schnockered. Maybe you don’t care right now, but you will tomorrow. I promise you that.”

  “Just take my goddamn money and bring me another.” Dan slid his credit card toward the guy and downed the numbing liquid without a flinch.

  “No can do, man. You’re done drinking here tonight.” He took the card, rang up Dan’s tab without the extra drink, and didn’t look one bit sorry about it. The fucker. “Come back tomorrow with your wife, and you both drink on me. Sound good?”

  Now it was Dan’s turn to snort. “My wife, huh? By tomorrow night, I might not even have a wife.”

  The bartender rolled his eyes and leaned back against the rail, because apparently he had nothing better to do than deny paying customers their requests and act like a prick about it.

  A glance around the bar said he probably didn’t—the place had cleared out almost entirely since he first snuck into the resort’s main bar, stealing a stool in a darkened, semi-discreet corner. He’d followed Maddie back to the villa, because pissed as he was, he wasn’t a complete asshole. She was still his wife and this was still Party Central, Mexico. He half entertained following her to their room and fucking Armando out of her head, but he wasn’t an asshole. No matter how badly he wanted to be.

  That didn’t mean he felt the slightest bit sorry fo
r her either. She was probably worrying herself crazy about where he was, but that wasn’t his problem right now. Not after she’d let another man put his hands on her and suck on her fucking neck.

  A slow burn crept up his spine, spreading like wildfire along his nerves. She hadn’t done this before, had she? When he wasn’t there to catch her?

  Fuck! He couldn’t even let the idea turn around in his head without wanting to throw up. Or smash the shit out of something.

  “What’d you do?” the bartender asked, still assessing him.

  “I didn’t do anything.” He tipped back the last solitary drop of whiskey in his glass before slamming it down on the bar. Hope flickered to life once again when the bartender took the tumbler and filled it with ice. But when he topped it off with water and set it back in front of him, Dan growled.

  “Okay, then—what did she do?”

  Dan shook his head, because there was no way he could verbalize what he’d witnessed. No way could he put Maddie in the same sentence as the word ‘cheat’.

  But that wasn’t quite right. Disgusted as he was, he couldn’t logically say that what Maddie had done constituted cheating. If it had been any of his friends’ women, he might’ve rolled his eyes and told his buddy to man up and go reclaim his girl. With Maddie however, it stung. Like hell. And it wasn’t something he ever wanted to experience again. But it wasn’t cheating. Not really.

  “You got a girlfriend...” He broke off, gesturing toward the bartender with a roll of his wrist. “Shit, I didn’t even get your name.” He extended his hand. “I’m Dan.”

  “Mike.” The guy stepped forward with a chuckle.

  “So, you got a girlfriend, Mike?”

  “Nope—I have a wife.” He held up his hand, revealing a wedding band much like his own.

  “Ah, sorry about that, bro.”