Dirty Like Us

pissed the fuck off, and frustrated.
Sexually frustrated?
If I didn’t know better, I might’ve even said she was jealous.
Whatever it was, it was giving me a raging hard-on.
She made an irritated noise in her throat and I followed her gaze; the other two chicks were still at it on the couch, but now they were horizontal and kinda scissoring.
“Good night, Zane.”
Maggie tried to shut the door, but I stopped it with my foot.
“Aren’t we in a mood.”
“Hey.” Some shirtless dickwit appeared behind Maggie, running a hand through his scraggly hair, and a flash of kill-crazy jealousy went off like a firecracker in my gut. “Everything okay?” He met my eyes and flicked his chin at me in greeting.
Fucking Coop.
I blinked, ’cause I couldn’t quite believe it.
Maggie was fucking Coop?
Shit, no.
I was all for fucking, in general. Was even pretty sure on a rare occasion or two some fuckwad had probably slipped under my nose and snaked his way up Maggie’s skirt. I was no idiot. Chick as hot as Maggie had gotten cock somewhere, at some point in history, even if she was too fucking discreet, not to mention uptight, to ever let on about it.
But this? Not happening.
So fucking not happening.
“Give us a minute,” she said to him sweetly, like really fucking sweetly, in a tone I’d sure as fuck never heard her use on me. “You know, band business.”
“Oh. Sure.” Coop disappeared, reluctantly. No shit. I’d get impatient too if Maggie was talking to some asshole at the door instead of riding my dick.
“You’re not fucking Coop,” I said, low enough he wouldn’t hear it, leaning in to make sure she did, my face tipped down to hers.
She didn’t back down. She just glowered at me, her eyes narrowing and her sweet mouth puckering, all pissed off and petite.
Which was why I loved fighting with Maggie. She was so fucking hot when she was mad. Hot, and cute as all fuck. Adorable. Like a feral kitten.
Also, if I really hit the sweet spot and she lost her temper, made it a lot harder for her to ignore me like she usually tried to do when I jabbed her buttons.
“Are you fucking Coop?” I pressed.
“News flash, Zane,” she bit out. “You’re not the only one who might want to do it in this stupid-fancy hotel suite, okay?”
“Jesus, though. Coop?”
She glared up at me, a storm brewing in her gray eyes. Then she growled. She actually growled, low in her throat, and I swear to Christ I almost came in my pants. “What the hell is wrong with Coop?”
“Where do you want me to start? For one, he’s not me.”
“Nuh-uh,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not doing this. Not getting into this with you.”
“Let’s get into it,” I said, pushing another inch into the room, my pulse beating in my dick, spurring me on.
“Nope.” She put her hand in the middle of my chest, holding me off. “It’s been a really bad night, I have not been laid since Christmas, and you are not going to ruin this for me.”
Then she shut the door in my face.
Christmas?
Christmas was four months ago.
As I stood there, my back to the bedroom door, I racked my fucking brain to figure out who the hell Maggie’d fucked at Christmas.
Coop?
Some other fuckwit?
As far as I knew she wasn’t seeing anyone regular. Maggie’d never had a boyfriend in the years I’d known her. I’d seen Coop checking her out. I’d seen him flirt with her, but big fucking deal. Who didn’t flirt with Maggie? Half the crew was hard up for her, but the girl was so fucking proper and all-business she hardly seemed to notice. She so rarely partied with anyone, I’d gotten pretty comfortable telling myself if she wasn’t sucking my cock, at least she wasn’t sucking anyone else’s.
Now I had a visual. Sweet Maggie, down on her knees sucking off Andy Cooper—fuuuck. The murderous surge of testosterone and adrenalin made my dick so hard it felt like it might split in half.
Shit.
Maybe I was a fucking idiot.
Two hot chicks, horny and willing, were going at it right in front of me, and my head was in the next room.
But no fucking wonder. I’d been hot for Maggie, one of a very few woman I’d ever spent more than an hour with who wouldn’t spread her legs for me, for years. Years. And now she was giving it up to Coop?
Fuck. That.
Who the hell did he think he was?
Asshole had pretty much fucked his band’s sweet ride on Dirty’s coattails the second he breathed on Maggie. I said the word, the Pushers were off the next tour, and that gave me a grim fucking sense of satisfaction.
Would I actually do it? Maybe.
Depending how things went down tonight.
I grabbed the remote to lower the volume on the music. Too bad. It was Wolfmother’s “Woman,” a decent song to fuck to.
I liked sex the way I liked my music: loud and hard.
No idea how Marvin Gaye got in the mix. Probably my wise-ass drummer, fucking with me.
I listened, but I couldn’t hear shit from next door. What kind of awkwardly quiet, polite sex were those two planning on having? What were they doing in there, right now?
And how long was I gonna let this slide?
According to my phone, three fucking minutes had passed since Maggie shut the door. Felt like a goddamn hour.
But the longer I let this go, the worse it would be for Coop when I kicked his ass out. Yeah, so I was a sadistic prick. Didn’t bother me in the slightest that I was about to cockblock a brother.
Not when he was in there right now with Maggie, getting ready to stick his dick in her.
Right. That was about far enough.
I hammered my fist on the bedroom door. Hard.
Half a minute later, Coop opened it.
“Maggie!” I thundered over him. “Get your ass out here.”
“Don’t let him in!” Maggie called from inside. “He’s like a goddamn vampire. You invite