30. Who Was That Man?

Chapter 30

Who Was That Man?

HUNTER

M egan sounds both upset and angry, and I frown. Rounding the corner, I see her hunched over herself, one hand on the marble counter, her expression tight.

"That's not my problem, and I don't live there anymore!"

The hand that's holding the phone is shaking. She doesn't see me since her back is towards me, but her posture reveals her fear.

"What do you want from me?" she half shouts, struggling to keep her voice low. "I sent you more than half my fucking paycheck! I don't have the kind of money you want."

I've heard enough.

Walking over to her, I pluck the phone out of her hand, my tone icy. "Who is this?"

"Wait, Hunter. " I silence Megan by grabbing her by her shoulder, whirling her around, and covering her mouth with my left hand.

She struggles with me as I turn my attention toward the person on the other end of the line. It's a man's voice on the other end.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I believe I asked you that question," I respond, unfazed by Megan's attempts to escape my hold as she makes muffled protests against my hand on her mouth.

"That little bitch sleeping with you?" the man sneers. "It figures. She was always like her mother, spreading her legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry."

"Do you know how easy it is for me to track your phone number and find your ass? It'll take me less than a few minutes."

"What?" the man growls, suddenly angered. "You threatening me, you son of a bitch?"

"Threatening you?" I chuckle angrily. "I don't make threats, Mr. whoever the fuck you are. I have a reputation for carrying out whatever I promise, and I don't like what you just said to my friend or to me. Maybe I should pay you a visit and slit that dirty mouth of yours from ear to ear since you like talking so much."

"What?" My cold words rattle the stranger. "You put Megan on the phone, you crazy bastard!"

"Mmph!" Megan tries to push me off of her, but I ignore her struggles.

"I'm afraid she's not available."

"Listen, you piece of shit, I don't care if you want to fuck her or whore her out, but you tell that bitch, if she doesn't send me my goddamn money, I'll make sure those pictures of her are sent to the police. You tell her that. Trust me, she'll make herself available to talk real fast!"

I abruptly end the call and set the phone down on the counter, slowly absorbing the words.

A moan leaves Megan's lips, and I finally release her, causing her to stumble forward. All the laughter that had been in her eyes just a short while ago is gone, and she trembles with fury and horror.

"What have you done?"

"Who was that man?" I ask her, an icy snowstorm brewing inside of me at the callous and disrespectful way that man just spoke of Megan.

Sparks shoot out of Megan's eyes and in my direction. She's pissed, although I'm confused why all of her venom is directed at me.

"You had no business taking that phone from me!"

I stare at her, and my tone is soft when I ask, "No business?"

"Yes," she grits the word out angrily. "That was a personal call."

I run my tongue over my teeth, struggling to contain my temper. "He was threatening you."

I see the way her face shutters at my words. "You misunderstood the conversation."

"Did I?" I take a step toward her, and she immediately takes one back.

"Yes, you did." Her voice is hard.

I'm seething mad and simply furious at how she lets other people treat her, not to mention refusing to ask for help. It's not like she doesn't know I won't help her if she asks. But the fact that it takes a crowbar to pry anything out of this woman is driving me insane.

The man's vulgar words are still ringing in my ears as I walk backward against the refrigerator, only stopping when her back hits the metal and she realizes that she has nowhere to go.

"I'm usually a very patient man, Megan," I say tightly.

"Could've fooled me," she retorts.

"Regardless," I ignore her provocation and continue my anger brewing. "It seems that when it comes to you, I'm very quick to lose my patience."

"Why?" She bares her teeth at me, and the show of defiance infuriates me, and I grab her hair, yanking her head back to face me, pressing my body against hers.

"I may give you a free pass now and then, but don't you ever forget who I am," I growl at her. "I'm not some puppy you can tame, Megan!"

She shoves at my chest furiously. "I never said that you were. And what free pass? I'm not doing anything to you. You're the one butting into my life, making my business your business. That was a private phone call, and you had no business taking that phone from me. You are my boss, or maybe my boss with benefits, but you have no right to interfere in my personal matters."

The more she talks, reminding me of the chasm between us, the more it infuriates me. I am just her boss? Is she serious? Did she just come home from the same Parisian trip I did? The one where I fucked her senseless?

She should be the one pining for me, the one who should be unsure of how to act around me, and yet I'm the one acting like a fool, unable to stop interfering in her affairs, damn near begging to keep her safe and offer her my protection.

Unable to take it anymore, I smash my mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss, wanting to hurt for making me feel like this. But as soon as the taste of her floods my mouth, I feel a gnawing hunger inside me. It's swift and familiar, and my cock hardens at the scent of her light perfume.

I release my hold on her hair, grasping both her hands and slamming them beside her head on the refrigerator, pinning her to it. She tries to fight me off for a few seconds before dissolving into me with a helpless moan.

I thrust my leg in between her legs, deliberately pressing my thigh against her hot pussy and moving it enough to give her the kind of friction that'll drive her wild.

And it does.

She's straining against my hold, trying to get closer to me. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are ravenous.

I want more.

I want to strip off her clothes and take her on the marble counter. I want to lap at her pussy until she begs for forgiveness for the words she just spat at me. I want her screaming my name as I pound all the defiance out of her with my dick.

Sliding her hands up, I pin her wrists together, grasping them in one hand as my other lowers to where her chest is thrusting out, the buttons of her blouse protesting.

"Bastard," she whispers against my mouth, her eyes opening to reveal a dazed expression, and a wanton moan escapes her lips as my hand curls around her breast, squeezing it and rolling the hard nipple between my finger and forefinger.

She's thrusting against my thigh, her face twisted in pleasure and need, and I run my mouth over her jaw and her cheeks before descending onto her lips in a now tender assault. I can feel it when she's on the edge because she tenses up, so I pull away, abandoning her aching pussy.

Trembling, she gives me a confused look, her eyes clouded with need, and a whimper escapes her before she nearly crumples onto the ground. I catch her in time, holding her up by the waist and whispering into her ear as she pants, "I will never be just your fucking boss."

With that, I let her find her balance, and then I walk out of her apartment, stuck with a painful hard-on that not even a cold shower manages to ease.

I hope I left her in just as much pain.