“Do you want to?” he asks as he pinches my slippery clit between his fingers.
“No,” I groan. “Where’s Vaughn?”
“On a call.”
“Oh. Well, then we shouldn’t disturb him.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, we shouldn’t.”
I grip the steering wheel with one hand and the back of the seat with the other as my hips pump forward. I’m grateful Shaw’s yard is surrounded by trees. I’m glad his prim and proper Polo-clad neighbors can’t see Shaw push three fingers inside of me. That they won’t catch my hips arch off the seat. The way I start fucking myself on his hand, my pussy starting to straight-up leak onto his driveway.
My cunt starts to squirt when he finds that perfect spot and we both hit that perfect rhythm, shooting my juices all over his tattooed wrist. They can’t see the way he’s looking at me or notice how fucking turned on I am by the dark spots I make on his nice clean shirt. They might hear me when I come, when I cry out, whimpering Shaw’s name. They might hear me, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Seventeen
Vaughn
Shaw is still standing at the sink where I found him washing his hands after he apparently fingerfucked Brooklyn in the driveway. I get it. I’ve been waiting almost three weeks to see her and touch her again, but damn. He couldn’t even let me say hi. I could smell her on him as he explained that she was upstairs getting changed. When she comes back down, she at least knows she’d been caught leaving me out in the cold again. I hadn’t said anything, just sat back down at the table.
“Don’t be mad.” Brooklyn looks down at me as she lets out this throaty laugh right before she hugs my head. I fix my glasses, jostled by her arms, but I don’t pull away. Her arms feel good around me. She feels good in my lap.
“Who said I was mad?”
“Your face,” Shaw says from the kitchen.
Brooklyn collapses in my lap and covers my face with kisses, trying to make me smile. I won’t budge. They will suffer my wrath for another twenty-something minutes.
“How can I make it up to you?” she says, kissing me again.
“You can’t. You ruined it. Both of you. Weekend’s over. I want a divorce. I want to go home.”
“Are you two married? I never asked.” Brooklyn suddenly says.
“No, it would fuck up Shaw’s vibe.” I’m just fucking with him and he knows it.
“Shaw, marry him and then he’ll stop being pissed at me.”
“I’m not pissed. Just disappointed.”
“How about Shaw and I spend the rest of the weekend making it up to you? What do you want? What do you need?”
Stop fucking each other without me,I almost say. I’m fine with the fucking itself. I’m not jealous or anything like that. They needed last weekend and I’m glad they had that time together to sort their shit out, but I want to fuck too. Damn.
“I need Shaw to control himself.”
“Can’t, sorry,” he says, staring me dead in the face. I hate when he does that ’cause he knows that his ego is part of his appeal.
Brooklyn sucks her teeth at him. “Stop.”
“I want Shaw to take us out on the boat,” I say.
“Oh, I’d love that, but like not too far out?” Brooklyn asks.” I can swim, but I can’tswim.”
“We’ll be right in the harbor. Plenty of people around. Lots of witnesses,” Shaw says, winking at her.
“Well, in that case,” Brooklyn says sarcastically, looking back at me. I give her thigh a gentle squeeze and she lets out a soft breath. “I think we owe you more than a boat ride. What else can we do for you, Vaughny? How can we make this up to you?”
“I’ll think on it. Let’s head out. We can get lunch on the way.”
