12. Seamus
twelve
Seamus
The Next Morning
I wake up grinding into the mattress.
My cock hard and straining again, heat flooding every nerve.
No build-up. No lead-in.
My body moves like it knows what’s coming.
Marcella .
Her mouth. Thighs. Tits . God, the way she fucking looked at me like she already knows her effect…
I haven’t even touched myself yet.
Already too close.
My new morning ritual began the day after she eviscerated me. For the past week, I’ve been getting myself off to depraved fantasies of the woman who’s determined to destroy my career one way or the other.
I’m a sick, sick man.
With no intention to stop. The end result is too fucking good.
I close my eyes and she materializes in my mind. Marcella . My new completely unexpected fucking obsession.
She's older than me, it’s hard to know by how much. Doesn’t matter, the woman is fucking beautiful. My fantasy woman come to life.
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?”
“Sarah says it’s solid. It clears me completely. Signing it means I have to work with Marcella Delgado against Caldwell.” I try to keep my tone neutral and hide the buzz I feel at the thought of being close to her.
He whistles. “Good deal. You should sign the feckin’ thing.”
“You don’t think it’s weird? Working with the woman who’s been trying to take my mentor down?” Part of me hopes he agrees, the other part wants permission. Go figure.
“Jaysus, lad. Caldwell’s a snake. You don’t have a choice.
From the sound of things, he’s been trying to blame it on you.
Don’t youse forget it.” Connor sounds spitting mad.
“ You didn’t fuck up her surgery, Seamus.
He did. If you truly believe he’s been setting you up to take the fall, sign the agreement.
Make sure he never does it to anyone else. ”
I close my eyes, nodding, even though he can’t see me. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“If you’re worried about the lawyer, do you want me to ask Zoey to give you a heads up on Marcella?”
I frown. Why would his bandmate’s wife be involved. “Zoey?”
“Remember, she worked at Finney Cooper when she got out of law school,” he reminds me. “She might have useful insight.”
I consider it. “Maybe. If it gets weird. Right now, I’m trying to wrap my head around all this. It’s surreal.”
“I get it.” His voice softens because he’s been through the wringer as a famous person. “Take it step by step. My suggestion is to get yourself out of this situation and move on.”
He’s right.
Yet, even after getting solid advice from Connor, I can’t bring myself to sign the damn papers.
The gym seems like a good place to work off the restless energy clawing at my insides. I push myself hard—sprints, heavy lifts, anything to exhaust my body so my brain will shut the hell up and resist the urge to masturbate.
It doesn’t work.
Even after the second cold shower of the day, fantasies of her naked body beckoning me make my dick stir.
Once I’m back in my car, I pull up the Finney Cooper website and stare at her polished headshot.
She’s so professional. Composed. Did she feel the heat crackling between us, dangerous and undeniable?
Am I losing my mind?
Goddammit. My cock is hard as a rock again.
Insanity .
With a muttered curse, I throw my phone on the passenger seat and start the car. I’m having a late lunch with my ma. I can’t go to her like this—sex-starved and restless. I concentrate on the one thing that’ll get my dick under control.
Wrinkly grannies. Wrinkly grannies. Wrinkly grannies.
Jesus.
When things calm down, I head to my parents’ house. Da is on the jobsite covering for Cillian, which doesn’t surprise me in the least considering the state of him last night. It’ll give me time alone with my ma.
The second I step inside, the rich, familiar scent of her famous Irish stew wraps around me. Lamb, slow-cooked until it falls apart, thick with potatoes, carrots, and onions, simmered in a rich broth perfected over generations. A fresh loaf of bread is wrapped in a dish towel.
My stomach growls despite the knot of anxiety sitting heavy in my gut.
She turns from the stove, eyes warming when she sees me. “Seamus, love, perfect timing. Sit, I’ll fix you a bowl.”
“Ma, I need some advice.” I sink into one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m conflicted.”
She ladles the stew into a bowl and sets it in front of me with a thick slice of brown bread slathered with grass-fed butter. Only when she sits across from me with her own lunch does she speak. “What’s troubling you?”
“Yesterday, I was offered a settlement to help bring Bryce down.” I stab my spoon into the stew and swirl it around. “My gut tells me to save myself. My head tells me to remain loyal and hope things work out.”
Her spoon hovers mid-air. “You know Bryce threw your name out there. So, what’s the conflict?”
“I’ll be working with the lawyer who deposed me and tore me to shreds.” I dunk a piece of bread in the broth and nearly groan with pleasure when I shove it in my mouth.
She studies me carefully. “Do you trust her?”
“I don’t know.” I try to get the vision of her beautiful eyes out of my brain.
Ma tilts her head skeptically. “You want to.”
I don’t answer.
She puffs out a breath. “Seamus, love, you’ve carried the weight of this surgery on your shoulders for months. It’s not your burden to bear.”
“I’m not so sure.” I clench my fist. “I can’t stop thinking about Miranda.”
She reaches across the table, resting her hand over mine. “Maybe helping this attorney will give you some peace when it comes to the wee girl.”
“I’ll have to spend a lot of time with her.” I stare at our hands, at the delicate lines of her fingers against my rougher skin.
Ma lifts an eyebrow. “Miranda? Ach, no, you mean the lawyer?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “I… I don’t know what I think.”
A knowing glint sparkles in her eyes. “ Huh .”
“Don’t even. Marcella is going to ruin my career,” I fire back.
Her smile widens. “No, she’s your advocate. I think she likes you.”
I open my mouth, then close it.
Ma pats my hand. “You remind me so much of your da when he was your age.”
“I’m nothing like Da.” I tense.
“You are.” Her gaze softens. “You have his heart.”
I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t ever put my own family through what he put us through. I don’t understand why you stayed.”
She winces like I’ve slapped her. “Love isn’t about perfection. It’s about standing by your person, even in their worst moments. It’s about seeing past their mistakes to the person they’re trying to be.”
“He hurt you.” I look away. “He hurt all of us.”
“He did,” she admits. “He fought to be better. I believed in the man he could be and now we have him back.”
I swallow hard. “I’ve never wanted to fall in love. I don’t think I have it in me.”
“You have more love in you than you know, Seamus. I’m sorry for not getting you boys help. It never occurred to me, it’s not the old-school Irish way.” She reaches over, cupping my face.
I shake my head. “I don’t want love. I don’t need it.”
“Ah, my sweet boy. You do and you’ll fall hard and give yourself to the right woman.” She gives me a sad smile.
Give myself? Does she know my secret?
No. there’s no possible way.
I finish the last bite of my stew and shove back my chair. “Fine. I’m going to sign the settlement.”
“Good man, yerself.” She nods, as if she already knew.
After I help her with the dishes and head back home, her words stay with me. Wrapping around me like a warm hug. Making me believe I don’t have to be alone anymore.
Somehow, I feel at peace for the first time since we failed Miranda.
Ma’s words follow me into the quiet.
They don’t haunt—they settle.
Maybe I don’t have to carry this alone.