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“Gladly.”
****
Maverick
While he’d been at Flannigan’s that morning meeting with Derrick, the garage camera alerted that someone was at his workbench. Glancing at his phone, he saw it was Olivia, so he returned to the conversation with his brother without a second thought.
Pulling into the garage, he noticed his neat and orderly workspace was anything but neat and orderly.
He got out of his truck and walked to the empty stall he used for his workshop. It looked like a tornado had blown through his six by four foot tool chest. Drawers were left open. Hammers were where the screwdrivers should be. Wrenches were with the pliers. He couldn’t even find his tape measures. Nothing was where it belonged.
But it didn’t stop there. Moving on to his workbench, he discovered his tools that had their own specific space on the pegboard were in disarray: his saws out of order, the levels moved haphazardly around. Not even the bins of screws, nails, and bolts had been spared.
Dumbfounded and confused, Maverick logged into the security system to review what the hell had happened.
It didn’t make any sense. The only alerts he’d gotten were when Olivia had been in the garage. Had she fallen? Tripped? Had a seizure? Even those scenarios didn’t explain the mess his space was in.
When the video started to play, he couldn’t believe what he saw. His beautiful wife, the mother of his young son, had willfully and deliberately fucked with his shit—and with a smile on her face as she did it.
She was obviously pissed off at him and had been acting passive-aggressively for the last few weeks, leaving little messes everywhere she went. He’d been a dumbass, and rather than address it head-on, had chosen to ignore it.
Apparently, his new bride didn’t like being ignored and had decided to go next-level to get his attention.
Well, he was going to pay attention to her, alright. She was about to get the brattiness fucked right out of her.
When her eyes dilated as he ripped her blouse, he knew that was exactly what she needed.
Her sassy “Make me,” comment told him he was on the right track.
He yanked her yoga pants and panties past her ankles, dispatching them to the floor before pulling her legs apart to find her pink center glistening.
“Your pussy’s soaked, darlin’,” he said with a smirk as he ran his finger down her wet slit. “If you wanted me to fuck you again, you could’ve just asked. You didn’t need to destroy my workspace.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “It was hardly destroyed, and no, I don’t want you to fuck me again.”
Maverick plunged a finger inside her.
“You sure about that?” he taunted as he methodically finger-fucked her.
“Positive.”
The sound from her wet pussy echoing off the wall suggested otherwise.
“Just like you didn’t deliberately fuck with my things to get a rise out of me?” He added a second finger and circled her clit with his thumb. “Tell me, sweetheart, was this the reaction you were hoping for?”
“No.”
“No?” He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, thrusting it inside her with no pleasantries. “Then this must be what you wanted.”
It’s what I wanted.
“You’re delusional,” she snarled, while at the same time arching her back and moving her hips to meet his thrusts.
He stopped moving. “So this isn’t what you want?”
Maverick knew it was a risky move. She was stubborn and proud, and making her admit that she wanted him might backfire.
“Did I say red?” she sassed with a glint in her eye.
