“Come, baby,” I hear him say. No one needs to tell Vaughn twice. His fingers dig into Shaw’s hips and three hard pumps is all it takes before he’s groaning with his head pressed against Shaw’s shoulder. They both settle for a moment, just breathing. I’m focused on Shaw’s hard dick bobbing against his t-shirt. I stumble off to the side as Shaw suddenly springs to his feet. He pulls up his pants just enough to cover his ass. He catches my elbow and starts pushing me back toward the door.
“Where are we going?” I ask, panicked for so many reasons, like the fire’s still going and poor Vaughn just jizzed himself to death in that chair. We can’t just leave him or the fire going. “What about Vaughn?” I ask.
“Come on, Vaughn,” he calls out. “Brook wants you to watch while I take her.” I don’t hear Vaughn behind us, but I’m more focused on not tripping over my own feet as he marches me through the house to the big bed in the addition. He tosses me face first in the covers and, as I try to wiggle my way to a comfortable position, he walks to the side of the bed so I can see him slide a fresh condom into place. Then he steps behind me again and I feel his hands at my waist yanking my leggings and panties down my thighs. A few moments later, he’s pushing my thighs apart just enough to get at my throbbing pussy from behind. I arch my back to help him out.
He isn’t gentle as he slams inside me and even though I cry out, whimpering his name, it’s exactly what I wanted, for him to take me brutal and fast. He’s fucking me like it’s been years since he ever had it this good. When I feel the bed dip beside me, I open my eyes. There’s Vaughn, still a little bleary eyed from his own orgasm, but ready and eager for more.
“Okay, baby?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I whimper as Shaw pumps into me again and again. I’m coming. I can’t wait. I can’t stop myself. Shaw is hitting my g-spot just right and the thought of Vaughn watching us, the way I watched them is too fucking much. It’s way too fucking much again when Vaughn slides his hand under me and finds my clit. I groan out a loud “Fuck!” as he gives it a perfectly painful squeeze. I come all over Shaw’s dick again and I think I hear him say something close to, “Brook! Fuck!” before I black out.
When my senses come back to me, Shaw is still in my pussy, but he’s stopped moving.
“Did I kill her?” I hear him ask Vaughn. I crack my eyes open and look at him. Vaughn smiles back at me, his glasses low on his nose again. He winks at me before he strokes my cheek.
“She’s fine, but maybe get off her and let’s take those cuffs off.”
“Thank you,” I groan. Shaw is still balls deep inside me when he takes the cuffs off. I ease my arms to the side, get up on all fours and push back on him two more times before he wraps his arms around me and pulls me upright. He pulls out and helps me stand off the bed. Vaughn pulls up my pants and helps me fix myself while Shaw gets rid of the condom in the bathroom. I let Vaughn rub my shoulders. He turns me, still rubbing me down as I face Shaw, who cups my chin and kisses me on my lips.
“I can’t come inside you right now. We gotta talk about BC and other general safety shit, but soon. We’ll talk about how to do it the way you want it.”
“’Kay.” I don’t know whether to cry or come. The considerate way he’s talking is equal parts sensual and sweet.
“Good girl. Now put your titties away, or don’t, but Vaughn is going to help you get ready for bed and then we’re going to watch the best movie ever made.”
“Which is?” I say, tucking my boobs back into my bra.
“Haven’t decided yet. Let me go put out the fire before I piss off the historical society and burn this place down.” He leans over my shoulder and kisses Vaughn. “You good?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Be right back.” He literally skips out of the room and then jumps up the stairs back into the main part of the house.
I can’t but help chuckle as I turn back to Vaughn.
“Let’s get some water and then take a shower. Sound good?”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Come on.” I let Vaughn take my hand and lead me into the kitchen where Roger is now dead asleep under the dining room table, clearly over our human bullshit. Vaughn hands me an ice-cold glass of water as Shaw comes stomping back into the kitchen singing “American” from West Side Story. Our weekend isn’t close to over, but I’m already scrolling through my mental calendar putting another trip to the Cape on the schedule.
Nineteen
Brooklyn
I need to get back to the city, but first, brunch. I know it’s silly. I could drive through a Dunkin’ Donuts, caffeinate and feed myself, and be back at my apartment with plenty of time to do some relaxing shit like wash my hair or something else that’ll help me turn my vagina off before I have to be back to work in the morning. A couple of hours after our fireside sexcapades, I somehow ended up having sex with Vaughn while a sleepy Shaw watched us and jacked his dick. Later, in the middle of the night when I came back from getting more water, Shaw fingerbanged me back to sleep. This is going to be a problem.
I went from sad, tortured spinster-in-training to insatiable sex fiend in a matter of weeks. Being around Shaw and Vaughn isn’t addictive, exactly. I just wake up the next morning with the clear sense that I haven’t been this happy in a long time. I know it’s not a perfect scenario, but now that Shaw and I have sorted things out, I really feel like I can enjoy being with them both. And what’s more, I feel like they genuinely enjoy being with me, which I didn’t think I’d trust at least for another decade or so.
I grab my purse and head to the driveway, where Vaughn is sitting in the front seat of his Escalade, one leg hanging out as he blasts some Beenie Man song I haven’t heard in ages. I stop halfway down the brick path and start rolling my hips.
“Okay, girl,” Vaughn laughs.
“This my shit. Where’s Shaw?”
“He’s doing something in his workshop real quick.”
“Can I go in there?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Cool.” I cross the driveway and make my way over to the barn. The side door is cracked open and I find Shaw inside. He looks fine as hell, as usual, but I’m overwhelmed by the smell of saw dust and the sheer size of the workshop. There are several workbenches around the perimeter. Tons of tools. Racks of wood and what looks like a halfway-completed canoe mounted in the middle of the room. He turns when he hears me walk in.
“Hey. I got a request for a quick project. I just need to check the ol’ supplies for something.”
“Take your time. Vaughn’s outside reliving his dancehall days.”
“You haven’t seen him dance yet, have you?”
“No, why?”
“Three prom dates. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Okay,” I laugh.
I cross the room and join him at his computer. His desk is filthy. Sawdust and wood chips everywhere. Supply catalogs with water-wrinkled pages. He writes something in a notebook that looks like it’s been around since the early 90’s, then turns and looks at me.
“I thought I had a few pieces of white birch. But I don’t, ’cause I fucking hate white birch.”
“Why?” I chuckle again. I know nothing about wood. The forest kind, at least.
“It’s cheap and it looks cheap, but some people like it.”
“You could use the scraps to finally teach me how to whittle.”
“You don’t want to whittle with birch.”
I roll my eyes and nudge him in the stomach. He grabs my hand and pulls me closer, settling his ass against his high desk.
“So, I was thinking,” he says.
“Ooh. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“See,” he sucks his teeth. “I’m trying here and you’re just throwing it in my face.”
“No, no. I’m kidding,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Tell me. What were you thinking?”
He reaches up and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I was thinking about what you said last night
and I see that you’re holding back. I understand why, but I don’t think you want to.”
I stand back just a little, so I can look him in the eye without craning my neck. I drop my hands from his waist and grab his fingers instead. “I mean, it is nice to just tell you what I want and to have you actually listen. You and Vaughn. It’s pathetic that most of my experiences with men haven’t been like that.”
“Say more.”
“If I said to, I don’t know, just lick my pussy a little slower or fuck me harder, but not necessarily faster, it’s like the message didn’t make it all the way to their brain. Josh was...better than most, I guess. Probably part of the reason why I wanted to marry him, but—”
“You said you felt like he was rushing you.”
“Yeah.”
“No rush, but think about what you want your submission to me to look like. I want to get to know your desires better, so I can anticipate your needs and you can anticipate mine.”
“I think I can work on that.”
“Good. You’re not coming back next weekend, right?”
“No. It’s the Fourth. I’ll be spending a few days with my sister and my family. But maybe the week after?”
“I’ll be here.”
“’Kay. I’ll let you finish up in here. I don’t want Vaughn to think we’re fucking without him again. Poor guy.”
“Yeah, I woke up in the middle of the night to you pogo-sticking on his dick. Poor, poor, Vaughn.”
“Bye, Shaw!” I leave him to his inventory and join Vaughn in the Escalade. Shaw is only a few seconds behind me. We wait for him to lock up the barn and house, then we drive into town to a breakfast spot called the Salty Dog. It's a beautiful summer morning, so we grab a table outside. I make myself comfortable next to Vaughn while Shaw sits across from us. A nice, white girl hands us our menus and tells us she’ll be back with waters and the gallon of orange juice Shaw has preemptively ordered.
“Okay, what’s good here?” I ask.
“They have cinnamon roll pancakes you might enjoy,” Vaughn says, pointing them out on the menu for me. He’s sitting with his other arm around me. I know I’m going to miss this closeness with him, with the both of them, as soon as I get back on the road. Our server comes back and I order the cinnamon pancakes and some eggs, while Vaughn and Shaw order the rest of the menu between the two of them. It takes a lot to feed that much man.
“Shaw, what’s on the agenda for this week, besides your hatred of all things birch?” I ask.
“I have—Jesus Christ.” I turn and follow his gaze over my head, just as some man brushes by me. Detective Jansen pulls out the open chair beside Shaw and takes a seat. “Man, what the fuck.”
“I have to say, I thought I was seeing things, but I’m not,” he says, attempting to keep his voice down. “It really is Bronx Assistant District Attorney, Brooklyn Lewis, sitting here cozy as can be with Corrine Johnson’s former lovers. Both of them.”
“You can leave now,” Vaughn says.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shaw says.
“Detective Jansen. How are you? What brings you to the Cape?” I say calmly. He and his partner were good to me during the whole ordeal, once they cleared me. Comforting and kind. They did their best to keep me in the loop. Still, I am less than happy to see him.
“Just visiting family, quick stop before we get back on the road.” He nods toward the window. I peer through the glass and there’s a table of eight or so white people watching us. Great. “What are you doing here, Ms. Lewis? I actually spoke with the Delinskys last week.”
“Good. How are they?”
“Good as can be expected. Still dealing with the grief, of course.”
“Look man,” Shaw starts, but Detective Jansen just keeps his eyes focused on me.
I feel my own face heating. I’m pissed, mostly, because how fucking dare, but my A.D.A. brain has already kicked in.
“Detective, is there anything in particular you would like to discuss? If not, I would really appreciate it if you let us enjoy our breakfast. And I’m sure your family would be happy to see you back inside.”
“I’m just wondering how this all came together. Your cheating fiancé dies with their cheating partner and then, bam, the three of you out enjoying yourselves miles and miles away from the comforts of New York City. I mean, this doesn’t look like a casual run-in. This looks like a weekend getaway. But you live closeby don’t you, Mr. Shaw? Did you invite Ms. Lewis out here to partake in the less than savory activities Mrs. Johnson mention to me?”
I glance over at Shaw and see that he’s doing his best not to punch the man in the side of the head. I can feel Vaughn practically vibrating beside me. I stand and nod down the street. “Let’s go.”
Detective Jansen raps his knuckles on the table, a nice fuck you to the guys, and then follows me down the street. A few people are watching us as I try not to hurry. I step into the alcove of a closed jewelry store and turn around.
“Do you really think that was the best way to approach us?” I ask him.
“Do you think spending time with them is a good idea? What the hell are you doing?”
I take another deep breath and think about the detectives I work with every day and what they would say, what I would say if we found out the significant others of two murder victims were suddenly hanging out together. Trauma does weird things. Victims and survivors turn to the most unexpected people for all kinds of comfort after a tragedy. But I’m sure he never expected me to turn to Vaughn and Shaw. Not that it’s any of his business. Not anymore.
“Do I need to reopen this?” he says, trying to put some bass in his tone.
“What? Of course not. Vaughn introduced himself to me after Josh’s funeral because he was trying to get some closure. He didn’t even know Josh’s name until you and your partner spoke to him. After Corrine Johnson’s funeral. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t mastered time travel enough to plan a double-murder homicide of the man I didn’t even know was cheating on me.”
Detective Jansen sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. He knows I’m right. I talked to him and his partner for hours. Shared every detail of my life with Josh. They both sat with me while my emotions caused me to vomit more than once. I know how this looks now, but I sure as fuck—we—did not plan Josh and Corrine’s deaths. That was all Ryan Morgan and Ryan Morgan alone.
“Fine. Okay. But are you shacking up with them?”
“I really want you to rethink that question. And I don’t appreciate you speaking like that to Christopher or Vaughn. They lost someone too, no matter how you personally feel about them.”
“All I’m saying is Miss Johnson’s family had nothing good to say about these two and, considering the circumstances, I’m thinking about how this looks for one second. I get reaching out, but Sunday breakfast on the Cape isn’t reaching out. What would you do if this fell in your lap? Would you just let this slide without asking a single question?”
I swallow and look past his shoulder. Vaughn is watching us. I can only glimpse the back of Shaw’s head. I’m sure he’s trying to grind his teeth right out of his jaw. It’s taking everything in my power not to start explaining. It really is none of his business and the more I say, the more it’ll sound like I’m trying to rationalize what I know is a bad idea. Like I’ve committed a crime, which I haven’t.
“If you have questions that you truly think are pertinent to your case, then go through the proper channels to ask them. But what you want is to satisfy your personal curiosity.”
“Look. I remember the look on your face when we first came to talk to you. I remember how discovering the layers to Josh’s murder destroyed you and I cared. I still do. We all, my partner and I, we felt bad for Josh’s family and we were really worried about you. I’m just shocked to see that this is how you’re moving on.”
“Your concern was and is appreciated, but you can’t approach us like suspects because you are surprised to see us hanging out together.
”
“I’m not kidding about Corrine’s family. They hate those men. What do your people think about this?” That’s the question that sends my stomach down to my feet. When I don’t respond, that’s answer enough for him.
“Oh, so they don’t like them either.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“They don’t know.” I hate this, being on this end of an interrogation that shouldn’t even be happening. “Listen, I won’t tell you what to do, but maybe think about why your family doesn’t know. The two of them were a problem for Corrine Johnson before she was murdered. Drove a huge wedge between her and her mother. If everything’s all good here, then there’s no reason to keep it a secret. And I would think you wouldn’t be interested in getting caught up in something that might hurt you again. Enjoy your brunch.”
“Detective—” I’m genuinely torn between cussing him out and trying again to convince him there’s nothing to worry about, but nothing else comes out of my mouth.
“Have a good one.” He heads back into the cafe without giving Vaughn or Shaw a second look.
I return to the table, just as our server brings out my pancake. “Thank you so much, but we actually have to go.” I reach into my wallet and pull out all the cash I have on me, more than enough to cover our meal and her tips for the rest of the day.
“Oh, thank you. So sorry you have to rush off. You guys have a nice day.”
“Thanks.”
Shaw sighs and stands, motioning for me to lead the way back to the car. I know Vaughn follows.
“I have to head back,” I say when we get back to the Escalade.
“What did he say to you?” Vaughn asks.
HARBOR: Beards & Bondage Page 19
