Each day he picked her up for work and dropped her off. After her shift, he picked her up again, usually took her for a late night bite to eat, then dropped her off at her apartment. But not before copping a feel or two. Man, he was so screwed over her. If he could just get inside her body, he knew this mind fuck would end.
Pulling out his cell he glanced at the time. It’d been a long ass day and he needed to see Mac. He’d like to lose himself and get his grind on with her. But who knew how long she’d make him suffer with this permanent hard on. Technically, they didn’t have a commitment, and there’d been times he’d been tempted to call on Claire for a quick blow job. But that fucking nagging voice in the back of his head told him if M found out she might rip his balls off. With his luck, it would be before he got to sink into her.
“I need a drink,” Derk said, rubbing a tired hand down his face.
He looked over to the man he considered to be his best friend, whose gaze hadn't left the stairs. Smith was a difficult man to read, but his obvious enthrallment with Courtney had always been evident. Smith never approved of how the Murphy men took her for granted or the hell she'd been put through. Derk agreed.
“You comin’?” Derk asked, his hand on the doorknob.
Smith nodded and followed him out of the house.
***
A few minutes after ten, Derk and Smith sauntered into Cards to find it filled with wall to wall drunks.
"Holy shit," Derk spat.
Mackenzie was on top of the bar with Kayla and two other bartenders doing some sort of dance, gyrating to the pulse of the music. He could have sworn he felt his blood pressure spike. Fuck this shit. It was bad enough she just recovered from a concussion from dancing on that cesspool of a bar, but to be on display like a pole dancer. Forget it. Not his girl. She needed to find a goddamn secretary job.
Seeing red, he stormed right up to the bar, shoved drunk bastards out of his way, until he stood below her. It only took a moment for her to catch his eye. A flash of fear lit those beautiful blues. Luckily for her and everyone else nearby, it was the end of the number. She jumped off the bar to a round of applause and went right back to pouring drafts. Conveniently out of arm’s reach. When she approached him, he reached across the bar and yanked her close.
"I don’t like it," he growled. Eyes narrowed, he studied her as she nervously bit her lip. The caveman in him wanted to toss her over his shoulder and cart her the fuck out of the disease infested place. Buuuut, that would more than likely have her screaming, and the only time he ever wanted to hear her shriek was when he was pounding into that tight body.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
How the hell did he deal with this? He wasn't used to wanting a woman so badly he went all alpha or whatever. It made him feel...exposed, like he was gonna lose his shit.
"You realize you don't have a say in what I do for a living," she challenged, her voice unsure.
"You really want to get into it with me, Mac? Do you?" he countered, totally turned on by her defiance. Shrugging, she looked him dead in the eyes. "Do you really want to get into this debate with me?"
She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, ready for a battle.
Assaulting her mouth, he kissed her hard, his tongue reaching as far back as it would go. He was so fucking hot for her, he wanted to take her on the dirty-ass wood bar. Apparently, she was just as hot, because she met him stroke for stroke as their tongues danced violently. He dislodged their lip lock. "Mac, you're mine tonight."
Her eyes glittered excitedly. "You think?"
"You don't have a fucking choice, M. I'm tired of waiting for you. No more." Derk released his grip on her and reluctantly allowed her to return to her duties. Raking his eyes up and down her fine body, little did she know what she was in for when she clocked out in a couple hours. Waving toward the far end of bar, she let him know where she was stationed for the night. He and Smith muscled their way and not-so-gently escorted two barely twenty-one year old punks off two stools.
Mac quickly slid a beer in front of them, then went about her business. Derk ran a hand through his hair and released a long breath. He picked up his longneck and took a drag, his eyes plastered to Mac. As if she could feel his penetrating gaze upon her, she turned his direction and her cheeks pinked. Snorting, he crooked a finger at her. The minx sauntered over to him and leaned on the bar, teasing him with her perfect breasts.
"You're coming home with me after work," he demanded.
Narrowing her eyes, she said, "Are you asking or telling me?"
About to admit that was a direct order, he clamped his mouth shut.
"Will you?" he asked, with only a hint less demand.