Page 33 of Hustle

I flip her onto her back, and don’t even know what I want to do first. I bury my face into her pussy again, fucking her with my tongue until she comes at least twice. She’s panting, and I want her to say my name, but I’m not going to ask.

I’m going to earn it.

She moves like she’s going to go down on me, and it’s not that I don’t want her to. I do, it’s just that I have a different agenda. A strategy. A fucking roadmap in the war to make her scream my name.

I’ve got a mission.

And nothing, absolutely nothing, gets me off the path once I’ve committed.

What the fuck? I can’t ever remember having sex like this. Good sex, yes. Decent sex where everyone walked away happy. Yes. Very good sex where some buttons got pushed. Sure. Complete, lose my mind fucking sex?

Never.

My mouth is on her breast, and it’s beautiful. Small and perfect, and I can’t stop playing with her pieced nipple. My fingers dip in and out of her pussy, stroking her clit. My cock is steel and my balls are heavy, and they’re threatening a mutiny, but I think about baseball and the stock market and Peggy’s fucking nail art to last as long as humanly possible.

I realize with a jolt that I never want this night to end. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a day – or a night – that I didn’t just push hard to get through. A long time since there was anything in my life worth savoring.

Evi is just crying out with pleasure, one sort of endless, wordless orgasm that folds in on itself and keeps going. It’s amazing to behold, and I could do it forever when she catches my eye. She’s panting, panting for me, and I might not be able to take it.

“Please.” Her voice is so soft, such an entreaty, that shivers go down my spine.

“What, Evelyn? What do you want?”

Her hips arch up toward me. “Fuck me.”

My hand slips up and captures her breast, slowly and agonizingly circling. Her cry gets a little more desperate. “Fuck me,” her voice is a little more ragged.

“Evi,” I whisper in her ear. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Say it, Evi. Please. I beg silently.

With some effort, she manages, “Seamus, I want you.”

That’s all I need to hear. But as I’m moving above her, she puts a hand of my chest. “Condom?”

Holy shit.

I’m so near the edge of reason I almost just made a terrible mistake. I’ve never had unprotected sex, not even once with a long-term girlfriend. Tonight? It wasn’t even on my radar. I grab one and I’m back in an instant, rolling it down. Her eyes are on my cock, which bobs and flexes under the weight of her stare.

It looks like she’s coming back to herself, because that sexy as all fuck smile twists her lips and she says, “I didn’t know you were packing, Doyle.”

And like that, I’m on top of her. Her legs are already spread wide, parting the way to heaven. Every instinct is to just push deep into her, make her mine, relieve this edge of insanity feeling of arousal. But I look down at her, and my throat catches.

Her eyes are wide, her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted from crying out in pleasure. I come back to my senses. Kissing her very gently, I ease inside. She’s tight, so fucking tight, and she cries out against my mouth as I slide in inch by inch. It’s heaven and hell, pain and pleasure, this moment and eternity also seeming to spin all in on itself.

“Evelyn,” I say very softly, my voice tight with need and heavy with emotion. “You are the most exquisite, most awe-inspiring woman.”

And in that minute, I know that I could worship her for a lifetime. Lifetimes. A thousand reasons why we can’t will be slamming into this room in no time. But for now, I just want to stop time and hold onto her.

One tear rolls down her cheek, and I kiss her again, moving very, very slowly. It’s an effort, because the energy between us is so charged. But the feel of her tight channel holding me deep inside is so right. I’m a little large for her and I can see that she feels every movement of me inside her, and I fucking love it.

She starts to move with me, arching her hips as I rock into her. Deeper, deeper, and when I’m as deep as I can go, she gasps, “Yes, Seamus, right there.”

And then I let go, just giving into the most primal urge I’ve ever had to connect with someone.

To bring pleasure to someone.

To be wholly and entirely in this moment.

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