“Is that why you're not more upset? He said you treated me like shit,” she pointed out. Jameson laughed.

“I do treat you like shit, about half the time. I'm not upset because you're in the car with me, and he's in that apartment, alone. Winning,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.

“You're winning all kinds of things tonight,” Tate said. He pulled her close.

“I told you, I always win.”

She pressed him back in to the seat and straddled his lap. It was like she was suddenly starving for him. She kissed and licked at his mouth, made fast work of getting his jacket off. But when she started to undo his belt, he grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands behind her back. She mewled in protest.

“I don't want to wait till Weston,” she breathed, leaning against him and running her teeth down his neck.

“Ms. O'Shea's apartment, Sanders,” he said in a loud voice.

She was surprised. He never wanted to go to her apartment. He hated where she lived, hated that part of town. She almost thought he was going to just drop her off, prolong her punishment. When they got there, though, he climbed out of the car with her and followed her up the stairs.

“Are you staying the night?” she asked, feeling giddy as she undid all the locks on the door.

“For as long as I want,” was all he replied, pushing the door open and brushing past her.

He moved ahead of her in to the room. Her apartment was tiny, two bedrooms and one bathroom – no tub, even. The kitchen was big enough for maybe one person to comfortably cook in; a small person. But it was clean, and it was cute, and she could afford her share.

Sometimes.

“I don't usually bring people here,” Tate said, running her tongue across her bottom lip as she shut the door. She felt like she had cotton mouth. Even after all the time they'd spent together, he still had the ability to make her nervous.

“No?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the living room. She shook her head, dropping her purse onto a chair.

“No. It's like ..., my space. Me. I've never slept with a guy here. Not even Ang,” she blurted out.

“That's a surprise.”

“We did it in the hallway once, outside the door. He threw -,”

“Jesus, Tate, as often as you talk about this guy, I'm beginning to think maybe I should fuck him, see what the big goddamn deal is,” Jameson snapped. She laughed.

“Maybe you should. He'd probably like it,” she told him.

“Oh, I'm sure he would.”

“Can I watch?”

“Tatum. Come here.”

It was a command and she heeded it. When she got to his side, he ran his hand up her arm, past her neck, in to her hair. When he got to the back of her head, he made a fist, bunching up her hair. But he didn't pull. She stared at him.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“If I hear his name, one more time tonight, I swear to god, I will make you regret it,” Jameson told her in a quiet voice.

Looks like someone else is jealous. New game?

“What if I don't say his name, and just refer to him?” Tate asked. The grip on her hair tightened, pulling a little.

“Tate.”

“You said 'hear his name', so technically, I could just -,”

He used the fist in her hair to shove her forward. She stumbled in to the hall and didn't need anymore prompting. She pushed open her bedroom door, barely sliding her skirt off before he grabbed her from behind. They crashed in to her dresser and she threw her arms out, catching their weight.

“Why do you like to push me?” he groaned, lifting her hair so he could bite at the back of her neck.

“Because I like it when you push back,” she whispered.

He turned her around and yanked her tank top over her head. It was all push and pull after that. She unbuckled his belt and shoved his pants to the floor. He shrugged out of his shirt and she pushed him back, onto the bed. She quickly slid her panties off and then straddled his lap, letting her shoes fall to the floor. She didn't waste any time, just grabbed the base of his dick and sat down on it. She let out a shriek, holding herself still on him.

“Sometimes I think you don't even need me to be mean to you – you do a good job all on your own,” Jameson chuckled in her ear. She reached for the back of his head and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling.

“Shut. Up.”

“I get what you're doing, you know. I know when you're baiting me,” he informed her. She rocked her hips against his, and was rewarded with a fluttering of his eyelids.

“Really? Then why do you usually take it?” she asked, her voice a little breathless as she moved her hips faster.

“Because this is all on my terms, and sometimes I like to indulge you,” he replied.

She couldn't respond. When she was on top with him, he hit spots inside of her that might have actually been portals to other dimensions. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Just gasped and pushed and pulled. But after a couple minutes, something wasn't right. She was perilously close to coming, but he was still sitting very still. Hands on her hips, silent. Jameson was never silent.

“What are you waiting for?” she gasped against his mouth.

“You're upset. I'm angry. It's too easy,” he replied, trailing his lips down her shoulder. She laughed.

“You're too easy, Mr. Kane.”

He playfully glared at her.