Hustle: The Doyles: A Boston Irish Mafia Romance

by Sophie Austin

  “It’s like the Tarot cards,” I say, placing a hand on Seamus’ thigh. Hank flicks his tail across my hand. “You have a lot to carry, but you can put some of it down. The world is about taking what you’re offered, too, and not just holding the whole thing on your shoulders.”

  I lean closer, my lips hovering over his. “I always thought we were opposites, but now I think we’re more like two sides of the same coin.” I kiss him and press my forehead against his. All the fighting, all the miscommunications. All because we’re both stubborn in our own way. I thread my hands behind his neck.

  “I love you too, Seamus.”

  15

  Seamus

  Her lips against mine almost make me forget why I’d come in the first place. And then she’d said she loved me too, and I wonder if I’ll be able to string words together.

  “Why don’t I get us some tea?” I say.

  “That’d be great. It’s in the cabinet to the left of the fridge.”

  I almost feel bad disturbing the cat. This is the first time he’s shown anything but pure disdain for me, but I need to share the news with Evi, and her proximity is making it hard to concentrate.

  She watches me move around her space wearily. She needs time for her adrenaline to ease off. Seeing her trying to hammer through that brick wall scared me for her. It’s not that I blame her.

  If someone were taking the Kildare, I’d be damned if I let anyone but family touch one goddamn brick. But I don’t think Evi would’ve cared if the building caved in on top of her. In fact, part of me wonders if that’s what she was hoping for. But I understand her love for her work, and I was wrong at eighteen to try to force her down my path.

  She’s talented, she’s built a hell of a thing, and her work is being recognized. All those things matter. This is where Evi’s heart and soul are, and that’s enough for me.

  A few minutes pass and the kettle I’d dropped on the stovetop whistles, letting me know the water is boiled. Turning off the gas, I pour the steaming water over a chamomile tea bag. I pass it to her, and she sets it on the coffee table, letting it steep.

  Even with her smeared makeup, she looks stunning. I’ve always been exasperated by her hot temper, but having felt her despair as she’d sagged against me earlier, I realize even more how I never want to see her without that fire. And how much I want – and need - that fire in my life.

  “So,” I say, sitting close to her. “Julia, my librarian friend.”

  “Always with the librarians,” she scoffs, playing with the string of the tea bag. But the affection in her eyes is unmistakable, and it’s all for me.

  “She found the records, Evi.”

  “Anything good?” Her flames are kindling again.

  I nod. “It’s pretty fitting, actually. These buildings were a string of boarding houses back at the turn of the twentieth century. They were eventually occupied mostly by immigrants, a bunch of whom turned it into an artists’ collective. There’s a big mural on the end of your shop by an artist who was in his art deco phase.”

  “Where?” she asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I’ve never seen it.”

  “They bricked over it,” I reply. “Right where you were swinging your hammer. The whole block has historical value. It was a hotbed for literature and theater and art. After World War II, everything changed and they wanted to modernize the area, which of course meant covering up all the local character. But who knows what kinds of treasures are in these spaces.”

  She’s quiet and hasn’t touched the tea.

  “Evi?” I ask. “Are you okay?” I expected some kind of jubilant reaction.

  She nods. “Do you really think the historical commission will go for it?”

  I nod enthusiastically. “Wait till you see that mural, Evi. It reminds me a little of your Empress. We may have to pay to help restore it, but we can find plenty of grants for that, no problem, especially with your connections in the art world.”

  I observe her for another moment and think back to my conversation with my father. Evi has been fighting her whole life. I’d told her I loved her, but maybe that’s not enough. And maybe she needs to know how capable I think she is.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Evi. And if there’s another battle, we’ll face it together. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I don’t trust you to handle things. It’s just that I hate that you’ve had to fight so goddamn hard all the time, and all on your own.”

  Something snaps in her, and she’s throwing her arms around my neck, kissing me fiercely. It takes me off guard, but luckily my body responds while my brain catches up. My arms wrap around her, fingers skimming her waist as she pushes me back to the couch. I’m all too happy to show her how happy I am to let her handle things.

  She’s straddling my hips, but unmoving. I arch up to get closer to her heat, and she smiles, a touch of that wickedness returning. She presses a soft kiss to my mouth and pushes me back down. She wants to be in charge. She slides her slender fingers under the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. She fucks me with her eyes first, and I feel myself get hard. This is going to be a big test of my control, but Evi’s pleasure is worth my patience.

  She strokes my abs. “When do you find time to work out?” she murmurs, her light touch sending shivers up my entire body. My cock jerks against her center. I can feel how hot she is even though we both still have our pants on.

  I’m dying to pull her shirt off and see her like I’ve seen her in my dreams since she’d cried out my name as I made her come. I want her to say my name again. Scream it out till her throat is raw. Until she feels nothing but that all-encompassing pleasure.

  But I can let her take her pleasure as much as I can give it to her.

  And she’s taking her time, exploring my body, drawing lines across it with her fingertips. She rocks her hips against me and scrapes her nails across my nipples. Fucking Christ, that’s good.

  “You can touch me,” she says.

  I run my palms up her thighs and finger the button to her jeans. I look up to her for consent, and when she nods, I undo it and pull the zipper down. I can’t touch as much of her as I’d like, but I can feel how wet she is with my fingertips.

  She continues her slow, steady torture, biting and licking her way across my chest. She pauses and moves off of me, and I groan at the loss of contact.

  “Take your pants off,” she whispers. “Boxers too.”

  I’m completely naked, and she licks her lips. I’m so hard it’s painful, and I reach for her pants again. She sheds them, but before I can touch her, she smiles coyly, and kneels next to me, taking my cock deep into her mouth.

  My vision goes white. The hot, wet sound of her mouth and the sight of her gorgeous face bobbing up and down over my cock is almost as good as the feeling of her licking me, but then her hand slides to cup my balls, and I have to grip the couch to keep myself from bucking up against her. I’m big, and I don’t want to hurt her. Fuck. She teases me with her tongue, stroking me from the base of my shaft to the tip, licking me in circles like I’m some kind of ice cream cone.

  I’ll never be able to watch her eat ice cream again.

  The pressure is exquisite. She kisses the sensitive underside of my cock with a wet, open mouth, fully aware at how badly I want to be completely sheathed in her. She watches my face as she teases, stroking my balls and cock with light pressure until I’m cursing her name. It must be what she was looking for, because right then she takes me deep into her mouth, as deep as she can, before moving rapidly up and down my shaft. She sucks me hard and fast, her tongue swirling around my cock as she does, her hands still cupping my balls. I’m on the edge, and I’m sure I’ve torn a hole in the cushion of the goddamn couch at this point.. I look down at her again, against my better judgment, and see her lips curl into that confident smile at my desperation, only this time I can fucking feel it too, and that’s all I can handle. She keeps me in her warm, wet mouth as I come in pulsing jerks. She licks me clean
, and I’m fully undone.

  I’m still too keyed up from the orgasm to speak coherent sentences, but I can pull her tightly against me. I need a few minutes to recover, but before long, my fingers dip into her panties again.

  Time for my hands to do some exploring of their own.

  16

  Evi

  “Bedroom?” Seamus asks, his hands slowly sliding over my ass.

  “Mm hm,” I murmur, and before I can get up, he’s pushed up and swung me over his shoulder, caveman style. He slaps my ass a few times for good measure. There’s a time and a place for everything.

  He carries me to the bedroom, and kicks Hank out before shutting the door, and depositing me on the bed. He stares at me with an intense hunger in his eyes. And I thought I couldn’t get wetter. He strips me down with Seamus-like efficiency, and when I’m completely naked, he growls in appreciation.

  “I’ve been dreaming about being inside you,” he says, running his huge palm down between my breasts, all the way down until it cups my mound. “I can’t get enough of you, Evi.” He kneels on the floor and pulls on my legs, sliding me down so his mouth is level with my cunt. He closes his eyes like he’s saying a prayer before pressing his face between my legs.

  “I love how wet you are,” he murmurs. “And how good you taste.” He dips his tongue into my channel, teasing me before rolling his tongue up to lash my clit. He sucks the stud above it into his mouth, applying gentle pressure with his teeth.

  A noise of pure pleasure rips out of me and I grab frantically at the comforter. He pulls my legs harder, pushing his face deeper into my pussy. He eats me out thoroughly. Holding me tight as I squirm against him, he teases my clit first with the tip of his tongue before stroking more firmly and sucking it deep into his mouth again.

  “More,” I moan.

  He holds me with one hand, freeing the other to thrust those big, thick fingers into me. I’m crying out his name as my muscles begin to ripple around him. I wonder for a minute if he’ll make me wait, like I did to him, but instead he twists a knuckle against my clit as he continues to finger me. He drags his fingers over my inner walls, pressing deep inside. My body tightens and I arch up against him, gasping. He leans over and kisses my mound, licking the tip of my clit as he pumps in and out of me, still working my clit against my piercing. The tension coils deep inside me, and I come with a long moan when it breaks.

  I’m gasping, still coming down from that first orgasm when he looks at me with those fierce blue eyes again, climbing over me.

  He pinches one of my nipples and plays with the piercing in the other before sucking it into his mouth. My nipples were always sensitive, but even more so after the piercing. I could come just from Seamus’ delicious attention to them.

  “Next time,” he says, moving from one nipple to the other, “I’m going to tie you up. Touch you.” He slips his hand between my legs again. “Tease you.” He’s thumbing my clit, increasing the pressure with each stroke. “Before fucking you senseless.”

  I’m heady with lust, imagining that scenario. The give and take of control with Seamus is going to be amazing.

  “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.

  And I’m right that they need to restore the mural he’d painted, too, so Evi has to close up shop.

  Just for a week though, while they do the initial demolition of the exterior wall and then evaluate structural integrity.

  Integrity is everything, after all.

  She, and unfortunately Hank, are staying with me while this happens.

  I park outside her loft, and before I can go upstairs to help carry her luggage, she’s already at the door with a giant roller bag, an overnight bag, and a carrier with a very petulant cat in it.

  I’ve borrowed my brother Owen’s SUV for this trip, so if the cat pukes, it’s Owen’s problem and not mine. My sports car doesn’t have room for much luggage and Evi’s not a woman that travels light. For some reason, I like that and I grin as I pack her things into the back. She buckles Hank’s carrier into the back seat.

  “Goodbye, shop,” Evi says with a sigh. “I’ll see you when you have one less wall up.”

  I grin at her. “It’s going to look really amazing when it’s fully restored. You know the original painting looks a lot like you, only with much bigger, longer hair.”

  She looks annoyed, but I like her hair much better, and tell her so. This appeases her, and we begin the short drive to my place.

 
“It was so satisfying seeing the look on the honorable mayor’s stupid face when we showed up with the historical society representative,” Evi says dreamily. “Not as satisfying as how good you fuck me, of course, but a close second.”

  “Thanks, I guess?”

  Her laugh is more of a giggle. Hank is beginning to wail sadly in the background like a sailor lost at sea.

  “Poor Hank,” she says, turning to look back at him. “I hope he doesn’t destroy your apartment.”

  “About that,” I say, clearing my throat. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if Ronan watched him for a while?”

  “Ronan? He likes cats?” Her head snaps back in my direction, her eyes on my face with the intensity of a crazy cat lady. “Besides, I’ll be watching him.”

  “Ronan loves cats,” I say quickly. Hopefully not too quickly. “I was hoping you’d come on an adventure with me while the work was being done on your building.”

  She lets out a whistle. “An adventure!” she says. “Seamus, you wild man. What about your clients?”

  I’m quiet for a moment, and Evi knows why.

  “What about your dad?”

  “It’s only a week, and he wants me to lighten up. It’ll make him happy.”

  “Seamus.”

  Evi’s voice is more serious than I’ve heard it since before we’d saved her shop. She’d finally come around to the value of librarians, or at least, to Julia.

  “You’re perfect the way you are. I tease you a lot, and I always will.” She reaches out a finger to trace my hair gently. “And yes, I want you to relax more, but the core of who you are? You’re incredible.”

  We pull into my parking garage, and I throw the car into park. Her eyes are on my mouth, but slowly pull up to my eyes.

  “I love you, Seamus. Who you are, and not who people think you should be.”