Page 46 of Hustle

“But today,” he says, sliding two fingers inside me, “I don’t have time for that. I need to fuck you right now. Condoms?”

I nod to the dresser, barely coherent with how badly I want his cock to replace his fingers. He has no trouble sliding the condom on with one hand while he continues to finger me.

“So, Evi,” he whispers, “how do you want me to fuck you now?”

Any way he wants.

He smiles at my lack of coherency.

“Do you want me to take you from behind?”

I moan as he pushes a finger deeper into me, curling it slightly.

“Hmm, you’re right. Maybe not tonight.” With that he moves back up to the bed, and has me straddle his hips. “Do you want this?” He holds me over him.

“Fuck yes.” I manage to say, before guiding him into me as I slowly, slowly impale myself on his shaft.

Mother of God, it feels amazing.

He’s a bit big for me, but this way I can control the action, and I’m swaying my hips in slow circles. I see his eyes go dark with lust, and it feels amazing. One of his hands is on my waist while the other plays with my nipples. They pebble and tighten under his expert ministrations. I move slowly up, and then down his shaft, and the groan that escapes his throat makes me feel beautiful and powerful. I begin to speed up the pace. Both of his arms are around my waist now, helping me move faster and faster on his cock. His eyes are glued to my tits as they bounce up and down with the fevered movements, and he’s chanting my name like a mantra.

His cock is hitting me just right, stroking my G-spot with every powerful thrust. The intense look on his face is such a turn-on, and before long I feel my body clenching.

“Oh…” I want to ask for something, but I don’t know what it is.

He pumps into me harder, faster, slipping a hand between our bodies, pinching and stroking my clit.

He groans as I begin to shatter. “You’re so fucking hot when you come, Evi. I need to see you come.”

His name is ripped from my lips once again and I’m exploding into a million pieces around him.

But that’s okay, because he is too. His pace gets more and more frantic as I pulsate around him, and it’s not long before he’s coming too, holding me tight to his body.

We collapse together on the bed, sweaty and panting. I cuddle up against his chest.

“Seamus?” I whisper.

“Yeah, babe?” He replies, lazily tracing patterns on my back.

“It’s not going to be easy, you know. You and me?”

He chuckles. “No,” he says. “But it’ll be fun. And I don’t just mean the sex. And even when it’s not fun, we’ll have each other.”

“What if that’s the reason, though, Seamus? There’s a lot of history here. A lot of damage.”

His hands stroke across my back, still. “There is,” he admits. “Whatever we decide to do, it will be a lot of work. But you and I have never shied away from hard work, Evi. We just need to be better about how we focus those efforts.”

“And how we communicate,” I add.

“Right.”

“Well, I’m ready to get down to business,” I say, adopting his more polished tone.

“Me too. Well, not until we roast the fucking Stacys alive first, that is.”

Epilogue - Seamus

It’s a longer process than I expect, but by mid-summer, we’ve beaten the Stacys’ eminent domain claim. The Boston historical society salivates over the discovery that the famous painter Donal O'Shaughnessy once lived in this nondescript-looking brick building in Southie.

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