Poised and self-assured. Voluptuous with curves so sexy I’m practically salivating. Her gorgeous face could grace magazine covers…and I want to see it flushed and debauched with lust for me.
I see her on her knees, chestnut hair twisted in my fist, come streaking her face while she gasps for breath—messy, ruined,mine. Her eyes shine. Like she’s proud of what she’s done—made me lose all fucking control.
I’m getting ahead of myself, though.
My dick is diamond hard now, pre-come slicking the tip. Rewinding my fantasy, I've ripped open her blouse, revealing her incredible tits. They're soft and heavy in my hands, way more than a handful, with dark-brown nipples begging for my mouth. I can almost hear the needy sounds she makes as I suck and bite those sensitive buds.
I stroke up and down my shaft, hissing through my teeth at the electric pleasure of imagining Marcella before me, pouty lips strained around my cock as I fuck her hot, wet mouth. I want to see tears smeared in her mascara. Hear her gag when I hit the back of her throat.
My hips punch up, bucking into my tight fist. God, I want her. I want to manhandle those magnificent breasts, press them around my dick and thrust until I'm coming all over her pretty face.
With a final twist of my wrist, I erupt, ropes of come painting my chest and abs. I'm left panting and spent, shame quickly replacing ecstasy.
She's my goddamn nemesis. I have no business fantasizing about Marcella like this. I’m an idiot because no matter how wrong, I know I'll be jacking off to a new fantasy of her tomorrow.
Or later tonight.
With a frustrated exhale, I drag a hand down my face, forcing myself to push her from my mind. This is insanity. Grumbling at the mess I’ve made, I grab a tissue from the nightstand and wipe myself clean before tossing it into the trash. Ignoring the lingering tingling in my dick, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, rolling my shoulders.
A cold shower. Coffee. Work. The trifecta of what I need.
Except I took the day off to regroup and decide what to do. I have the settlement paperwork in my in-box. Sarah signed off on it, told me it was an excellent deal—better than I could have hoped for under the circumstances.
Why, then, can’t I shake the feeling putting my name on the dotted line will mean more than stepping out of the legal crosshairs I find myself in?
I know the answer. It’ll mean I’ve got to accept Miranda Black will never wake up. Never have another birthday. Never get the life she should have had.
I’m not sure I can live with this reality.
I need to talk to someone. Who? None of my friends at the hospital, for obvious reasons. My brothers are all over the place.
I tried to meet up with Cillian for dinner last night after the meeting, it was a disaster. He was already four or five drinks deep when I walked in, blaming his problems on his break-up. Unfortunately, I know the truth. His reliance on alcohol started long before her. Despite Da’s best efforts, he’s still circling the drain, and I don’t know how to pull him back out.
Brennan hasn’t returned my last few calls or texts. He’s buried in some corporate disaster at his company, Cognify AI, trying to keep it from imploding under the weight of whatever the hell’s going on in Silicon Valley. It’s always like this with us, he’s either all in or completely absent.
Maybe I’ll try Liam and Padraig. The twins have always forged their own path. They left home when I was a kid, chasing their music careers, and while they’re closer to Connor than they are to me, they always have a good take on life.
I hit dial. It rings twice before Liam picks up. “What’s up, everything okay?”
“You got a minute?” I rub my temple.
“Well, is it an emergency?” I can hear someone tuning a guitar in the background. “We’re in London and it’s time for sound check.”
“Shit. Of course. It can wait, why don’t you guys call when you have a minute.” I sigh.
There’s a pause, and for a second, I think he’s going to tell me to spill anyway. Then Padraig’s voice cuts in the background, calling Liam back to rehearsal, and Liam exhales. “I’m sorry, Seamus. It’s bad timing.”
“I get it. Talk to you soon.” I end the call and dial Connor, whom I seem to be leaning on a lot lately.
He picks up immediately. “Hey, wee Seamus. Everything okay?”
I hesitate, then decide to spill. “Not really. You got time to talk?”
“Aye. Ronni’s nursing Teagan and the boys are at nursery school. What’s going on?” He always sounds so cool and confident, it’s what I need.
“Well…” I run a hand through my hair. “I was offered a settlement agreement. It will fully exonerate me.”
Connor is silent for a moment, then he exhales. “And?”
