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I kiss her hand, staying on my knee for a long moment because I’m too lightheaded with joy to stand. Then I get to my feet and kiss her gently on the lips, pulling her close and whispering against her ear. “Great. But just so you know, I’m not Xavier anymore.”
Connie pulls back, frowns, then nods. “Oh, right. Xavier is dead. So you have a new identity? Isn’t that difficult these days with everything so computerized? Your new driver’s license has to swipe, your new social security number has to check out.”
“Yeah, gone are the days when you glue a photo on some card stock paper, type in whatever name you like, then laminate it and you’re good to go.” Rubbing my smooth jaw that’s going to take some time to get used to, I reach into the back pocket of my painfully new khaki trousers and pull out my new wallet and flip it open to show her my new driver’s license. “Now the identity-crooks give you a list of stolen names that are already set up in all the government databases. You have to choose from what they’ve already got, and since I needed something really fast, there wasn’t much choice.”
Connie stares at my new name. Then she stares at me. “Liam O’Brien? Really? You’re Irish now?”
I grunt. “Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it. But it’s all the guy had available on short notice. He said it’s complicated to get new identities now, you have to find old records that are already in the system, then hack into them and change some details to create a new identity. And this is Boston, so he gets a lot of Irish names. You’ll get used to it, baby.” My palms slide down her back, rest on the round of her ass, my cock starting to fill out. “Say my new name, sweetheart. Say my fucking name.”
Connie giggles as I squeeze her ass with both hands, almost lifting her off her feet, my cock hardening and pushing against the white apron protecting her pink sweatshirt which seems to have the new logo and name on it. “Nobody’s going to believe that’s your real name,” she says against my chest. “You don’t look Irish.”
“That’s racist, lass,” I growl against her neck, my fingers untying the knots of her apron, my palms sliding beneath her shapeless black track pants and closing on her shapely barebottom, squeezing hard and then smacking her ass good and tight, making her jump. “I’m as Irish as the next fucker in Southie. Now I’m going to have to put my big hard leprechaun-cock into your tight little shamrock to prove my Irishness.”
Connie snorts out a giggle. “Um, you do know leprechauns are . . . small, don’t you? And grouchy.”
“They’re also lucky, baby. Just like a shamrock. Come on now. Let’s see that little clover. Don’t make me grouchy, sweetheart.” Grabbing her ass with both palms, I pop Connie up on the kitchen island. The smooth wooden surface is dusted with confectioner’s sugar, and a white cloud of sweetness swirls around us as I drag her track-pants and underwear all the way off and start to kiss her smooth thighs, my cock throbbing as I pick up the scent of Connie’s perfectly furled clover-leaf. “Oh, fuck, baby. Lie back, sugar. I need to taste you before I take you. There we go. Here we go. Here I come, baby. Here I come.”
11
CONNIE
Icome before he even touches me. Just the teasing tickle of his tongue along my delicate curls brings forth my wetness, brings out my feminine, brings out a lilting climax that’s sweet and soft. Xavier licks me carefully as I shudder through that gentle first orgasm, his tongue sliding into every hidden fold of my wet pussy lips, slicking me up with loving attention, wetting me with delicate care.
“Oh, Xavier,” I groan, sliding my fingers into thick dark hair that he’s grown out over the past few weeks. He looks up at me from between my legs, his freshly shaved chin shining with my wetness. “I mean, Liam O’Brien,” I say hurriedly when I see the stern look in his sparkling fake-Irish eyes. “Oh, Liam O’Brien. My big lucky leprechaun.”
“There’s a good lass,” Xavier whispers through a smile. It draws a snicker from me, but then Xavier’s tongue flicks my clit and his thumbs spread my folds and my pussy opens wide like a flower thirsty for the rain and the jokes are washed away by the beautiful seriousness of what’s about to happen, of what’s already happened, of what will continue to happen as our story unfolds.
Xavier kisses my wet virgin pussy, then backs away from me and undresses. I watch in awe as he unbuttons the blue collared shirt that’s been tucked into khaki trousers that look painfully tight around his bulging crotch. Under the new clothes of his new identity is still Xavier, though, and my breath catches when I glimpse the bulging muscles rippling over his dark torso, thedangerous tattoos shining under the hot halogen lamps above my kitchen work-island.
His head briefly dips when he bends his long hard body to get his shoes and trousers and underwear off, and when he stands upright again it’s all Xavier, all man, all mine,
My convict in all his tattooed bronzed brutal glory.
His cock thicker than my biggest rolling pin, its dark shaft shining with pre-cum, bulbous head glistening with anticipation, balls heavy and big beneath the upward curve of his erection.
My lips tremble as Xavier draws close, spreading my legs and climbing onto the sturdy kitchen island. He positions himself over me, his cock dripping onto my belly as he leans in for a kiss, a deep loving kiss that simmers with the heat of his need, boils with the rawness of his desire.
“Your Mama was right, baby,” he whispers, reaching for his cock and guiding its head to my entrance, holding it there and looking into my eyes. “She was right to make you wait. Even if she did it for the wrong reasons, she was right to make you wait. Wait for me. Wait for this. Wait for us.”
My head nods dumbly, my lips moving soundlessly because this moment is beyond words. Xavier pushes into me now, slow and careful but steady and unyielding. My eyes roll up in my head as my pussy stretches for the first time, opening up for his thickness, widening for his girth.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, arching my back and gasping as Xavier thrusts firmly and drives all the way into me, breaking through my seal, bringing forth an erotic wetness that’s blood and sex, warm and thick, sticky and sweet. “Oh, Xaiver, I’m so full of you, so filled by you, so . . . so yours. So damn yours.”
“Mine,” comes his growl as he pushes all the way into me and flexes inside my stretched vagina, kissing me hungrily on the mouth, then drawing back and thrusting deeper, like he’sseeking new ground within me, claiming new territory, owning parts of me I didn’t even know existed. “All mine.”
The words spin through the air and then shatter as Xavier begins to pump his hips, steadily increasing the force of his thrusts, his gaze dark with desire but warm with love, his big hand stroking my hair as I whimper from his powerful pumps, his heavy thumb wiping the tears as I sob with each dominant drive into me, his dick somehow getting bigger with each entry, his girth pressed against every inch of my virgin walls, stretching me open in the most perfect way, that wonderful mix of pain and pleasure.
Soon we’re moving together as my body understands that it is his, my pussy acknowledges that it is owned. Xavier senses it and begins to go harder, ramming into me with increasing force until the heavy kitchen island is creaking and groaning as we grunt and groan, mutter and moan. My ass is pounding against the sugar-dusted wood surface, sending clouds of white sweetness puffing into the air. Beneath me I feel the sticky wet mix of blood and sex get stirred into the white sugar, and in my swirling spinning mind I see how fate and destiny stir events together and spin space into sequence and swirl time into threads that make sense to the heart even as they boggle the mind.
We move together in a wild frenzy, and then Xavier explodes into me with mindboggling force, his hands groping my breasts and stroking my throat and sliding around to the back of my head to cushion the impact of his heavy body rutting me deep and hard on my own cookie-baking island.
“Oh, fuck!” he shouts, his hips slamming my ass into the wood, his cock shooting jets of hot seed into my depths, filling me until I’m overflowing down my thighs and ass onto the table, Xavier’s semen the final ingredient in this surreal cake that webaked together, the frosting formed by fate, the batter sweetened by destiny.
We come together under the hot lights, surrounded by the shiny ovens that made it through the fire just fine, the thick black soot cleaning off just fine. The two of us are a sweaty sticky mess when it’s over, but beneath it we’re clean like newborns. Xavier groans and flexes, pushing out the last of his load, then collapses against my neck, the two of us panting together like beasts who’d been fleeing through the forest together and are finally safe in their hiding place.
“I love you, Xavier,” I whimper.
“I love you, Connie,” he whispers.
