The Hustle (Irreparable 4)

“Send her in,” I reply, quickly gathering the photos and stuffing them in the desk drawer.

A smile forms on my lips as she walks through the door, like one always does when I see her. It’s like every time she’s near me she takes a little piece of my pain and makes it bearable, allows me to smile and forget how broken I feel. The emotions I feel around Peyton are why I keep my distance. Before long, she’ll ease all of my pain and I’ll forget why I hurt. Then I’ll fall for Peyton, starting the vicious cycle of love and losing all over again.

The black pumps on her feet hold my attention as she strolls to my desk. Her long and luscious legs are on full display with the short gray skirt wrapped around her fuck-me hips. I love her calves and the curve of the back of her knee. I’ve fantasized about seeing her naked, but a girl like Peyton feels, and a woman with emotions isn’t one I can take to bed. Especially not one I consider a friend, one who makes me laugh, and one I have no intention of hurting.

She glides beyond my desk with the grace of a ballerina to the side of my chair and stares down at me. With my eyes focused on hers, I spin in the chair to face her.

“This is a nice surprise,” I say, allowing my eyes to slowly peruse the edges of her curves and the swell of her breasts peeking out from the top of her low-cut blouse.

“Is it, Aidan?” She bends over me, placing her hands on my shoulders as she straddles me in the chair. “Because it feels like you’re avoiding me. Why is that?”

My breath catches as shock sets in and I stare at her open–mouthed, unsure if I should be truthful with her. The attraction between us has been there from the start, but I’d hoped she was denying it as much as I’d been. I swallow hard, leaning back as Peyton begins slowly undoing my tie. Where her sudden bravery stems from hits me with her next breath. “Have you been drinking?”

“A little.” She giggles, lowering her head. My dick hardens as her tongue trails softly along my jaw.

I grip her small waist, pushing her back so I can look at her. “Are you drunk?”

“A little.” Her in

dex finger pushes into my lips when I start to tell her this is a mistake. “But, I’m sober enough to know that you don’t want to answer my question.”

Her hips push forward, causing me to groan.

“I am avoiding you,” I tell her, releasing a breath.

“Why?” Her warm breath tickles my ear as she removes the tie from over my head. She drops it on the desk and gets busy releasing the buttons on my shirt.

I reach up, secure my hands over her delicate wrists and remove her hands from my shirt. “Because, Peyton, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why do you assume you’ll hurt me?”

Turning my head and ignoring her is easier than telling her how fucked up I am. That I always hurt people I care about. She yanks on my belt, releasing the buckle. I haven’t had an opportunity to get my dick wet since Peyton showed up at the loft and my will to refuse her hangs by a thread as she undoes the button on my slacks and lowers the zipper.

“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing down at her small hand that’s inching its way inside of my boxers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You should stop,” I warn, knowing I’ll fuck her if she doesn’t. Drunk or not, I can’t resist her when she’s so willing to let me have her.

“Why?”

I release a shaky breath as her warm hand covers my dick.

“Because if you don’t, I will take everything you’re giving me, but I won’t give you anything in return. I’ll fuck you and hate you. That’s who I am. I’m still in love with a woman I can’t have.”

“And I’m still in love with a guy I can’t have. They left us. I’m not here so you’ll fall in love with me, but you can have me.” Her hand wraps around my rock hard dick. My head falls back as she works me base to tip before taking my hand and shoving it up her skirt where I discover she isn’t wearing panties. Her confidence makes my dick harder and decreases my ability to say no. She slides my fingers through her wet pussy, causing me to lose control. I insert two fingers deep inside of her as she writhes against my hand, panting. “I’m done fighting you. All I want is for us to take care of the sexual tension that’s been brewing between us since the day we met. It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex and what I want is for you to fuck me until I’m satisfied.”

A growl erupts in my throat. Her forwardness arouses me further. As much as I know I shouldn’t give Peyton what she’s asking for, my dick takes command. I withdraw my fingers and push her skirt up to her waist, staring into her eyes and silently begging her to change her mind. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She grips my face with one hand, her piercing aqua eyes rendering me stupid. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

Her bold order is my complete undoing. The thread finally snaps and I slam her down onto my cock, lifting my hips to get as deep as possible. To reach the edge where I feel nothing before I fall. That point right before climax where I feel numb and my head clears, free from pain and regret. The brink of orgasm is the only time I feel peace. Even if only for mere seconds, I need to go there.

She throws her arms around my neck, tipping her head back as she cries out in wild satisfaction, but I feel the pang of conscience crushing my chest. I can’t. We can’t, but as she starts to move, I lack the strength to stop what’s happening or how much I want her. Being in her bare overwhelms me with a carnality that makes me want to own her. I am prepared to stake a fucking claim right now. Then the same raw passion shoots anger through me and has me shoving her off of me. She shrieks falling back on her ass.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Her arms fold over her body as she scoots back on the floor. “Fuck! You could get pregnant . . . I don’t want a kid. You fucking stupid woman.”

As her eyes well with tears, my anger grows in intensity, but not with Peyton. With myself for being careless and acting with an impulsivity that fucks with my life every damn time I act on it.