Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
It takes him no time to drive me mad. My nails score his back in pure, petulant frustration while he works two fingers into my tight passage. I clench around him, ready to come but I refuse to let go until he’s inside me. I’ve waited my whole life for Mickey O’Halloran to fuck me, and I’ll be damned if I can’t hold out until he’s sheathed within me where he belongs.
I babble, half begging for him to take me. He scissors his fingers inside me and my head falls back. A wire snaps inside me and all I can to is convulse, molten and helpless as he spears my core with his clever hand. After I come, I’m weak, languid and warm, the urgency to have him subsides and I sink to the floor with him. He rolls me on my back and spreads my legs. The look he gives me is so good that my blood heats and all that adrenaline spikes right back up.
I fumble, helping him unzip his pants and groan at the broad, heavy cock that springs out into my hands. My body shakes hard with wanting him now.
“I’ve got you,” he says, soothing me with his voice even as he sets his hips between my quivering thighs.
When he rocks forward and the fat, damp head of his cock kisses my slit, I moan way too loudly. A wash of embarrassment floods me, but he grins, pushes forward with a slow, deliberate movement. Everything inside me lights up like a pinball machine, every place he brushes against feels electric, charged and sizzling.
My hips take over, a life of their own, lifting, reaching, rocking in rhythm with him while delirious waves of pleasure take us both. The sound I make starts as a scream and winds down to a helpless mew as I feel wrung out by so much intense pleasure, but I can’t quit rubbing against him, my too-sensitive pussy still desperate for more even when we’re spent.
I come hard on my own fingers and breathe out a sigh of relief.
But even in my fantasies I know once would never be enough with him.
Not that I’ll ever have the chance.
5
MICKEY
“Thank you, gentlemen,”
Numbers are up for this quarter, outpacing my projections from July. It’s good news all around. I finish shaking hands with the legal team and finance guys, then I ask Ben Ragucci to hang around for a minute. He’s the forensic accountant, and he’s been around since my dad was in charge. He’s the guy who’ll give it to me straight.
“You got a minute?”
“For you, boss? Always,” he says and sits back down at the table in the board room.
“Thanks, it won’t take long. I was thinking with profits way up, I can funnel some more to the robotics program, food banks, maybe the women’s shelter.”
“You can cross off the food bank. You got them set up for the next six months at least. Roxbury and Mission Hill already looked at sending the holiday donations from the community down to Somerville and Medford. Spread the wealth.”
“Good. Then put the surplus on robotics and the women’s shelter.”
“You talk about charities the way your old man bet on the ponies,” he chuckles. I nod. There’s nothing I can say to that without insulting the memory of my father.
Ben looks up from his calculations. “You wanna put all this on those two?” he asks.
“Why not?”
“Most guys would take a vacation at least. Buy yourself another car.”
“I’ve got four. And two bikes. I don’t need another car.”
“Right. I’m just not sure the robotics program needs this much money. They have all new equipment. The teams will go to competition with their travel expenses paid already.”
“Then give it to the libraries.”
“Okay, will do. You know, you and your old man couldn’t be more different,” he says.
I know it’s a compliment.
“Thanks,” I say. I want to be a better leader and a better man than my father, but it’s awkward having Ben Ragucci mention it to my face. “Save the compliments for my eulogy, okay?”
“You got years ahead of you, boss,” he says and nods to me as he leaves.
I know he’s right. I have years of this job ahead of me, of guiding this organization and building my legacy as long as no one else gets the crazy idea to try to challenge me or take it from me. Frankly, I get a little tired just thinking about it.
I like what I do, and I like being in charge, but there’s never peace for very long and another forty years of this doesn’t sound like heaven right now. It feels good to give to charities and know I’m changing the face of the city little by little, but all I have to look forward to is going home dead tired at night and doing it all again the next day. It’s no wonder my dad was such an asshole—the grind is unforgiving and it never stops.