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Danny was released a week later from the hospital, expected to make a full recovery. He’d need a few more weeks of taking things easy, then he could slowly ease back into work, though his undercover days were probably over since he was at the center of one of the largest criminal busts in the history of the city involving not just the Chicago PD, but the DEA, the ATF, and half a dozen other agencies who had been after my brother for years.
Archie picked Danny up at the hospital for me and ferried him to Ritchie’s—I mean—to my house in the suburbs just outside of town. Archie helped me get Danny situated in the master bedroom, then I told him to take a hike. I could handle things from here. Archie, who had turned into my personal assistant of sorts, just smiled and told me to take it easy on the guy.
“Oh, I will,” I said, shoving him out the door. “Don’t you worry.”
* * * *
IT FELT SO GOOD JUST knowing he was home.
My knight in shining armor.
My savior.
My man.
The moment Archie was gone I stripped off my clothes and ran to the bedroom. My pussy was so wet the juices ran down the insides of my legs as I moved. Danny was sitting up in bed, smiling, waiting, naked, stroking his already rock-hard cock.
“Is that for me?” I asked, climbing on top of him, pressing my lips to his. His mouth was hot and wet.
“For you and you alone,” he said, gripping his cock and sliding it along my pussy, spreading precum over my lips and rubbing circles over my clit. My pussy ached for him, clenching and spasming and sending ripples of anticipation through my body. When he held his long, thick cock upright, I lowered my body and slid my cunt over his cock, impaling myself until I sat on his pelvis and his cock was buried deep in me, touching every inch, so snug I could feel the veins pulsing against my soft flesh.
“Ride me,” he said, his voice tight. “Slowly...”
Gradually I began to move in small increments, up and down, inch by inch, until Danny gritted his teeth and sweat bathed his skin. I sat straight, my hands lightly on his hips, my pelvis rocking and lifting and rolling as I fucked him. He stared into my eyes, his gleaming with both desire and affection, and I felt his emotions roll toward me in waves. Good emotions. Healthy emotions. Emotions that offered hope for happiness and a possible future. No, I didn’t want to start over. I suspected that much of Danny O’Shea resided in Daniel Dutton, and I wanted to know him better.
“God, your pussy feels so good,” he sighed. “I’ve been dying for this moment for a week...” He dug his fingers into my hips and I saw him wince in pain, so I took his hands and told him to be still.
“Let me do the work,” I said. “You just relax and enjoy.”
Slowly, I increased my pace, rocking faster and faster on his cock, lifting and dropping to force him deep into my cunt. My pussy swelled and pulsed, and my clit ached for attention, so I used my fingers to rub it, faster and faster to the movement of my body. The pleasure surrounded me, swamped me, and when my orgasm tore through me, I arched my back and let the waves drown me.
My entire body trembled, and my cunt throbbed, sending pulses of sensation through my pelvis and limbs. Danny gave a soft cry, and then cum burst from his cock, flooding my pussy, the throb of his cock matching the throb of my cunt.
As the tide of sensation tapered off, I drew in a deep breath and slowly lowered myself down next to Danny, careful of his chest and my still damaged wrist. He curled his arm around me and pulled me close, protecting me once again.
I lifted my face and found him staring at me.
“I think I might love you, Hannah Silvestri,” he said softly.
“I think I might love you, too, Daniel Dutton.”
“Can you see a future with a cop?”
“I can see any future that has you in it.”
“What about you?” he asked, his eyes circling my face. “Besides me, what’s in your future?”
“I’m glad you asked,” I said, rolling over to rest my chin on his chest. “Now that I’ve sold off or shut down all of Ritchie’s businesses, I’ve been thinking about a new venture. A combination Italian restaurant and Irish pub. I’d call it Hannah O’Shea’s.”
He smiled and brushed the hair from my eyes.
“Somehow, that makes perfect sense.”