XXX Shamus by Red Hammond Page B

that’s got me running all over. I’ve even got an appointment for later tonight.”
    “Liar.”
    “No, really. People keep weird hours sometimes.”
    Sister was propped on an elbow, fast-forwarding the movie to her next favorite scene. “What is it, another ‘missing’ girl case? Did you hear her cry for help?”
    Twisting the knife, reminding Hopper of Cynthia. He had spilled the story to her looking for a little sympathy, maybe absolution, but she belittled him.
    “Just like a man. Never thought to ask what she wanted. You should be charged with murder,” she had said.
    “She’s not dead.”
    “Attempted murder, then.”
    She never forgave him. It was always an issue.
    Sister froze Demi in mid-cry and shifted her shoulders. She turned her face profile. “Divorce work is admirable. People deserve more respect than a cheating spouse gives, so do more of that.”
    “I take what comes my way.”
    “Funny how it’s always girls, young and horny and of questionable character. You surround yourself with them. Especially that new secretary.”
    Hopper watched the screen and wished he were elsewhere. Burt Figg was going to feel all Hopper’s bottled-up rage, guaranteed.
    “Divinity’s helped a lot. Maybe she’ll organize me into a new tax bracket.”
    “That’s enough. Shut up, all right?”
    Sister’s cheeks sagged and the lines were deeper than last time. She was never diagnosed as manic depressive, but the signs were all there. The moods varied every time Colin left. Sometimes she’d get ambitious, start a new novel, clean the house, try to learn Russian. Other times, this was what happened—self-doubt, hostility, acid-strength sarcasm.
    Hopper stopped the backrub.
    She said, “What is that, a threat? I didn’t say stop.”
    “No, I’m really tired.”
    “We’ve been through this before.”
    He collapsed onto the mattress, blew out a long breath. “Do you ever believe me? Ever?”
    A long moment passed, her back to him, before she rolled, her head on his shoulder, hand on his chest. “I believe you when you agree with me. Besides, you’ve pulled this type of thing before. Your cock will betray how you really feel.”
    She had that quality, indeed. Something about her brought out the rawest sexuality in him. He’d even fucked her once when he had the flu and fever. She insisted. He swore he couldn’t get it up. All she had to do was touch his belt.
    Much like she was doing right then.
    “Why tonight? Can’t we talk? Veg out?”
    Her eyes. Full, soulful, turned up to his. “You sound like a queer.”
    “You know better.”
    Sister’s hand unbuckled the belt without looking. Hopper stirred, throbbed, wished he wasn’t getting hard for her. “Please.”
    “Your mouth says ‘Please,’ but your body, well, let’s take a look.” She worked the button, the zipper. Of course, no underwear for Hopper. He considered changing that habit to give himself an extra layer of protection from moments like this, albeit a thin one. Sister’s hand circled him in just the right way, the organ half-hard and growing.
    “Violet—”
    “You say my name? You don’t dare.” She laughed darkly and slid herself towards his waist. He watched her nightgown slide up. White thighs. She didn’t get out to tan much.
    Her lips were around him, taking him in fully before coming off again and flicking her tongue against the tip. Her warm saliva chilled quickly. She took him again. He was hard indeed, pretty much full bore, no turning back. One of Sister’s hands cupped his balls while the other yanked at his waistband. He didn’t help her. Soon his pants were free and she pushed them to his knees. She wouldn’t let him come in her mouth. Not if he knew what was good for him. She wouldn’t let him come until she had gotten all of him that she wanted.
    She lifted her mouth from him, caught his eye again. “Your balls stink. You have been busy today, haven’t you? Is this what Divinity’s cunt smells