Son and brother who thinks of everyone else? Gone.
The only thing that’s left behind is me. Just a man, who is on his couch with the woman he’s wanted to fuck for years. That realization hits me, and another raw sound rips its way out of my throat.
“Why, Seamus Doyle,” she asks very sweetly, as if she read my mind. “Am I making you lose control?”
My cock jerks so hard at the words “lose control” that I think for a second that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
Absolutely fucking not.
We’re on our feet, and she’s leading me to the bedroom, even though some dark corner of my hazy brain isn’t sure how she knows where it is.
“Light,” I command and the soft glow of the side lamp sparks to life.
I reach for her with my other hand, but she puts up a hand, and then pushes me back on the bed. I’m not used to not being the one in control. But I respond to her command on some deep level that threatens to drown me down into the undertow of this woman’s amazing influence.
It’s taking everything I have not to rip off the rest of her clothes, and mine too. Her eyes go around the room and they stop at the fuzzy handcuffs on the bed poster.
Heat rushes my face.
Fuck.
It’s a joke. My brother Kieran put them there as a big fuck you to my precise and expensive furnishings. I’d left them there to keep my brothers from providing any other housewarming gifts. It was a small concession that never mattered, I don’t bring women here.
As I rush to explain, she puts a finger to my lips.
“Shhhh.”
Her fingers touch my wrist, and before I know what’s happening, she’s sliding the cuffs around it. Before she closes the final snap, she asks if it’s all right, and then when I nod, it closes firm. She’s grabbing a tie off the dresser, where I’d left it earlier, and now my other hand is secured to its nearest bedpost. Evelyn McCallum has me spread-eagled and tied up to the frame of my bed.
This might be the best fucking day of my life.
She’s looking at me, a little concerned.
“Seamus,” she says in a seductively sweet voice that makes my entire body vibrate. “We seem to have a little problem here.”
Problem? What problem? I’m trying to push through a haze of desire when she slides a knife out of the bag she brought with her. I break out in a sweat. I like hardcore and I want to be hardcore, but this might be too far, too fast.
A laugh of pure amusement escapes as she flips the blade. “Still wearing your shirt, Seamus. Going to have to cut it off. Too bad, it looks expensive.”
It is but I don’t care. She could incinerate it while I wear it, as long as she keeps going. The shirt is cut away, her hand tracing down over the muscles of my abs. The knife goes back in her bag.
She just cut my fucking shirt off.
Holy hell.
Her fingers dip into my pants, under the belt, and instinctively I thrust up at her. My hands go to move toward her, but I can’t because I’m tied up.
Damn it, she’s good with knots.
“Evi,” I manage.
She’s undoing my belt, pulling it out of the belt loops. She unbuttons my pants, my cock is straining to escape. She pulls and they’re down around my ankles. I try to kick them off, but she’s sitting on my legs, staring down at my cock.
“These too,” and then she’s pulling down my silk boxers. I lift my hips, in part to help and in part because I want my cock as close to her as I can get.
She licks her lips, and my whole body bucks.
I may not survive the night. But I’ll definitely die a happy man.
Her hand pushes me back, and I realize for maybe the first time that giving up a little control – once in a while – in the bedroom can be hot as fuck.
She’s wearing nothing but a thong now. I’d eat it off of her if I could.
Her fingers trace up my inner thigh, grazing over my cock and balls, and I’m seeing stars.
“What do you want, Seamus?”
When I try to say that I’d like to eat what she’s wearing right off her body, what comes out is just the word, “eat.” My voice sounds so deep I almost don’t recognize it.
“Fantastic fucking idea.” She slides off her panties. I’m getting an eyeful and can’t take my eyes off the nipple piercings on her breasts, the winding tattoo that starts at one hip and snakes down her body. The glint of silver between her legs.
She’s so fucking beautiful. Something pulls tight in my chest, some sensation other than the almost blinding desire coming from my cock.
I want her so much, I can’t even make sense of it.
I’m pulling hard at the bindings on my hands, and I can feel the tie starting to give way. But she slides up my body, the smooth lines of hers sending fireworks as our skin connects. She pulls a move straight out of gymnastics and her beautiful pussy is right above my mouth.
Heaven.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Kissing and licking my way along her seam, I run my tongue over the piercing above her clit and she pushes her hips down. She’s moaning words like fuck and yes, but all I want is for her to say my name.
She tastes like honey, and my nerd brain kicks in with some weird thought about honeybees and pollinating flowers, before my cock reminds me that we have something far more pressing at hand.
I slide my tongue inside her, and then back to her clit. She’s soaked and so fucking hot. My left hand rips free of the tie and I grab her hip to pull her down closer. Working my tongue over the clit, over the piercing, I pick up speed and intensity until I feel her shudder against my mouth. Her moans of pleasure send satisfaction straight to my core.
Now I’m pulling with real intensity on the right side. Damn it. “Evi,” there’s an urgency in my voice, as I’m reaching to pull her down to me.
“Uncuff me.” Another growl.
I sound like a Neanderthal.
She’s slid down my body and is striking a sex goddess pose on the edge of the bed.
She grins that wicked grin again, and says, “If you want me, Seamus, you’re going to have to come get me.”
She’s holding eye contact, sliding hands around her breasts, down along the line of her stomach, and into her pussy where she’s softly rubbing. A mewl of pleasure escapes her, and I’m filling with the strangest sense.
Possession. Jealousy. The only one I want her making those noises for is me.
Against my mouth.
With me inside her.
Saying my name until her voice is raw.
Until she has no voice left.
I might be a lawyer, but I’ve got plenty of muscle and apparently I’m pulling hard enough to start bending the iron headboard. She comes forward and puts a hand of my chest.
Must. Get. To. Evi.
Her eyes are a little wide, but her voice is gentle as she comes forward to help me.
“Seamus,” she whispers. “Just uncuff it.”
She does.
Fuck. Yes. I’m losing my mind here.
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 fin
gers 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.
I push myself as far inside her as I can go, again and again, hitting that spot with a slow-building grind until she shatters. It starts deep in her core, ripples where she clenches my cocks and starts crying out my name over and over again.
And then I’m driving into her again and again, unrestrained, deep and hard, and I’m lost. My own release overtakes me, and I just keep pumping into her like this is everything I’m made for and this is where I’d like to be for eternity. Like there’s something beyond the blinding light that’s all I can see and the explosion rocketing through my cock.
Finally, I managed to whisper her name, and bury my face in her neck.
“Evi, Evelyn, perfect, beautiful, wicked girl.”
What have we done? And how the hell am I going to keep myself from doing this again, a dozen or a hundred or a thousand more times?
10
Evi
I’ve never been a morning person. Seamus would walk with me to school most days, but they always began with him pounding on my door to wake me up.
My Ma would be gone, at church already, praying for my soul, or sometimes my father’s if he’d come for one of his rare visits which often coincided with some trouble with the law. And of course, we’d fight. We always fought.
But I’m awake now. It’s early, the morning sun barely beginning to poke through Seamus’ blinds. He’s asleep, his strong arm curled around my shoulders. His face looks so peaceful in sleep, the worry that normally creases his face smoothed out.
I can’t remember the last time I’d spent the night at a man’s house. I’d had a lot of sex. Never like this, though, and I’d always left long before dawn. The men had never complained about that. Seamus, on the other hand…
Our sex had been amazing. And when he’d asked me to stay the night, I knew I couldn’t turn him down. I want to run. But I also want to stay.
Sighing, I nestle my head against his chest. The small movement wakes him, and I feel guilty. He doesn’t strike me as someone who sleeps well.
Those blue eyes flutter open, and he’s smiling sleepily at me.
“G’morning.”
“Hi,” I reply, drumming my fingers on his chest.
“What time is it?” He murmurs, reaching for his watch.
“It’s not even six yet.”
He pulls me against his chest, kissing my forehead. Heat pools between my legs as he slides those incredible hands over my back and down across my ass. He deftly slides a finger between my legs and I gasp.
“God,” he murmurs. “Evi. You’re so fucking stunning.”
His finger lazily slips across my pussy lips while his thumb glides up to my clit, playing with the piercing on the hood. That had hurt like a bitch, but god, was it worth it now. The sensation was amazing. He presses his hot open mouth to my neck, pulling me on top of him. He nudges my legs further open with his thigh, and pushes a long finger deep into my cunt.
“So wet,” he growls, “god, you’re so wet, and so tight, Evi.”
I arch against him as he circles his thumb against my clit, his fingers pumping in and out of me. The things this man could do to my body were unreal. He adds another finger and I gasp.
“Is this okay?” he whispers, taking his thumb off my clit.
“Jesus, yes, don’t stop!” I hiss.
He makes a noise low in his throat and starts plunging his fingers in deeper, harder, while continuing to assault my clit with his thumb.
“Please, Seamus. Oh, god.”
He adds a third finger and I see stars, screaming like a cat in heat, clenching around his fingers.
“That’s right, come for me, baby,” he moans, his fingers still slamming into me. “I’m going to make you come so many fucking times.”
I gasp for breath, grabbing at his shoulders. His grin is feral.
Seamus Doyle is a man of his word.
We sleep, and fuck, and sleep, until early afternoon. Seamus orders us some greasy takeout—not in his usual food regimen, I’d wager--and I call the shop to see if someone can feed Hank. Joey is there, but she says no, Hank bites. Fair. He has his kibble so he’s far from starving, but I’d hear about the delay in serving his canned food.
The Chinese food arrives, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Seamus and I laugh and chat, and it’s easy, like it used to be. I think back to the Lovers Tarot card I pulled, and wonder.
“So how long do we have, with the injunction?” I ask around a salty mouthful of vegetable fried rice. I’m sitting cross-legged on his couch, wearing one o
f his silk pajama tops and a pair of his boxers. It’s all too big for me, but I can tell from Seamus’ expression that I make it look good.
“Probably no more than a month,” he says, deftly picking up a spare rib with his chopsticks. “Stacy has friends on the bench who will challenge it immediately.”
“But you also have friends,” I say, “librarian friends.”
He smirks at me. “What do you have against librarians?”
“Mrs. Howe was such a bitch to me,” I say. She was our high school librarian and was always sending me to detention for talking during study hall.
“Mm,” Seamus replies, nodding and eating another spare rib. The grease was shimmering across his lips and I wanted to lick them. “Did you know she went to school with your father? I wonder if there was some history and she took it out on you.”
I roll my eyes. “Who didn’t have history with that asshole?”
I see something cross Seamus’ eyes. He puts his plate down.
“Evi,” he says, “I owe you an explanation.”
His tone is so serious that I put my plate down, too.
“I wanted you to go to college,” he says.
“No shit,” I reply.
“And it’s because you’re talented, Evi. But also because I thought you could benefit from being away from the neighborhood for a while.”
“Seamus, you’re not my father,” I say snidely.
“No,” he snaps. “I’m not.” He closes his eyes, and his tone softens. “We were friends. And my dad…he asked me something, Evi. And I’m not sure if I made the right decision.”
I regret the grease of the fried rice as fear turns it into a cold slick in the back of my throat. Where is this going?
“My family. We didn’t like how your father was constantly in and out of trouble, making things hard for you and your Ma. I told my dad he hit you.” Seamus looks up at the ceiling, and back at me. “I told him because I knew he could stop it.”
I’m stunned into silence.
The world’s starting to spin.
“You know what I mean, right, Evi?”
I nod. My throat feels tight now.
“My dad would’ve been happy to do it. He hated your father. But he asked me if it’s what you wanted.” Seamus gets up and sits next to me on the couch. “I should’ve asked you, Evi, but I couldn’t. So I said no. And I hoped you’d just leave for school because I felt like a coward. I couldn’t pull that trigger. I couldn’t have my dad pull that trigger. I’m sorry.”
Hustle: The Doyles: A Boston Irish Mafia Romance Page 8