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Eoin didn’t remember the first three times this had happened and had yet to draw the conclusion that I had, which was if dad was going to die, Satan would have to bloody well come up here and do it himself. This was a sentiment that Dad himself had expressed on more than one occasion, in his more lucid states.
I started to ponder why all the news I had gotten that day was bad when I remembered that it wasn’t. I had met the amazingly hot Miss Maggie Sanders and we had set up a date, or a sort of date. Granted, it was to her ex’s engagement party, but I intended to make the best of the occasion and help her have the best time possible.
I picked up my phone and dialed the most familiar number I knew, thanking God for $5 long-distance plans. It took several rings for anyone to pick up, which made me wonder if things might be worse than I thought.
“Hello?” Eoin asked.
“Hey, little mite.”
“You got me message?”
“Aye.”
“‘Tis really bad, t’is time,” Eoin said.
“How bad?”
“T’ey had ta use da paddles.”
“His heart stopped?” I asked, not expecting that.
“For ten seconds. He was dead for ten seconds.”
“And was resurrected.”
“Aye, pretty much.”
“Praise science!” I said, with all the evangelical fervour I could muster.
“Stop. He might hear you,” Eoin said, panicked.
“Ye’re t’ere wit’ him?”
“Aye.”
“T’ere really isn’t much ta be done. I’ve known da longer t’an ye. He has a head harder t’an cobblestone. All I can say is to suggest t’at he gets his arse into rehab. T’e fact t’at he nearly died permanently might just be enough of a kick this time. ‘Tis up ta him after t’at.”
“Aye, ye’re right.”
“Take care, lad.”
I hung up and tried to cheer myself up by letting my mind wander back to Maggie. She hadn’t been wearing a particularly sexy outfit when we’d met – just a plain black pant-suit – but I could still tell she had a really nice figure underneath. I thought hard and imagined what she would look like naked, my cock getting hard instantly.
I imagined her getting down on her knees in front of me, without a stitch on, and gently sucking my cock, looking into my eyes, while rubbing her pussy with her hand, bringing a huge load of cum onto her mouth. I unzipped my pants and took out my cock, the pressure getting to be too much to bear. It wouldn’t stop throbbing until I rubbed it, so I started to stroke the shaft as I imagined repositioning Maggie, laying her out on her back and burying my face between her sweet thighs, partaking her beautiful pussy, making her squirm and moan in pleasure, while she was running her fingers through my hair.
Kissing my way up her belly, I imagined stopping off at her tits, giving them some tender loving care with my lips and tongue before moving on up over her neck to her mouth, sliding into position as I went, pressing the head of my cock up against her warm little pussy. She wasn’t very big, really. She was curvy but she was also pretty short, and her frame was actually pretty slight. I loved her feminine curves and gorgeous smile.
Continuing to stroke my cock, I imagined stroking Maggie’s pussy with my hand, keeping her excited. When she was ready, I would shift slightly and slide the head of my cock inside her, causing a long moan to emanate from deep in her chest.
Moving slowly, I imagined starting to pump inside her, moving in a bit deeper with each thrust, until I was almost all the way inside her, picking up speed as she got used to having me inside her. We all came at the same time: Maggie and me in my head as well as me in real life.
And I couldn’t wait to do it for real with my fake fiancée.
Chapter Eight
Gavin
It was odd, how a week could pass. It could feel like either the longest or the shortest amount of time in the world. On a much-awaited vacation in Hawaii, seven days hardly seems like much. Banged up in prison, it could be an eternity.
In my case it was kind of a combination of the two, which I guess would be something like waiting in jail for a Hawaiian vacation.
I couldn’t wait to see Maggie again, but wait was exactly what I had to do. But it was for such a good cause that I did my best to take it in stride, hoping that the waiting would make the actual event all the sweeter from the anticipation.
I had sped home from the shoot, Flogging Molly blasting on the car stereo all the way there Still humming “The Devil’s Dance Floor,” I went to my bedroom to get changed. When I came over from Ireland, I’d only brought jeans and T-shirts. But once I arrived, I realized that wouldn’t cut it in some circles so I decided to “invest in my future” by blowing a good chuck of the money I’d brought on a bespoke suit.
