Come Again

by Kate, Jiffy

  Shaw’s eyes don’t leave mine as he helps me discard them onto the kitchen floor. Then, his fingers lightly graze their way back up my legs, landing on my pussy covered only by a thin scrap of fabric. When I spread my legs, I know the second he feels how wet I am. I see it in his eyes which are still locked on mine.

  Hunger.

  Desire.

  Unrestrained passion.

  Everything I’ve wanted from him and he’s finally giving it to me in spades.

  I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I want Shaw O’Sullivan.

  He makes quick work of removing my panties before sliding his finger along my slit and up to circle my clit. The relief I feel as his finger enters me is short-lived because my core immediately starts to tense in preparation for the release I so badly desire. I’m dancing on the edge of wanting to prolong this feeling but also needing to come so fucking badly as he pumps two of his thick fingers inside me.

  “So fucking wet, so tight. Do you like it when I fuck you with my fingers?”

  “Yes,” I pant, gripping his shoulders. “I’m so close, Shaw.”

  “I can feel you,” he whispers, losing himself in the moment. “Come for me, Avery.”

  When he curls his fingers, angling them to hit just the right spot as his palm gives my clit the friction it needs, my thighs begin to shake. Gripping his shoulders tighter, my orgasm takes over, making me cry out.

  Before I have a chance to catch my breath or remember my own name, Shaw grabs me by my waist and pulls me to the edge of the counter. I watch as he unbuttons his jeans and frees his cock.

  It’s long and hard as it bounces against his chiseled stomach. At some point, he’d also discarded his shirt and his gorgeous chest is on full display, swirls of black painting his skin.

  I want him.

  I want him so fucking bad I can’t stand it.

  Even though I just had one of the best orgasms of my life, I’m still greedy for more.

  Reaching for his cock, I stroke it and watch as Shaw’s head falls back, a guttural moan erupting from somewhere deep inside him, spurring me on. When I catch a bead of precum and swirl it around the tip, his head snaps up and his eyes look ravenous—like a starved man looking at his first meal in days...weeks.

  “I’m on birth control,” I tell him, wanting him to know he doesn’t have to worry about me.

  Shaw’s hands are back on my hips, pulling me into him. “I’m clean,” he assures me, panting as he leans his forehead against mine. “I swear.”

  “I trust you.”

  The next thing I know, my ass is no longer on the cold countertop. Instead, Shaw has me wrapped around his body as he pushes me up against a wall. I feel his cock slide against my wetness as he lines up with my center. He teases for a split second, repositioning his hands on my thighs. Just as I’m getting ready to beg, he nudges my entrance and then slides inside.

  It’s slow at first, his heavy breaths and weighted stare dominating the space between. I feel every inch, every glorious inch, as he fills me, consuming me from the inside out. When he’s buried deep, he pauses for a second and I wonder if something’s wrong—worry that he’s having regrets or changed his mind. “Give me a second,” he pants. “You’re...you, oh God. You’re so tight and I’m...”

  Cupping his cheek, I brush my thumb along the soft skin under his eye, wanting to give him anything and everything he needs. Unable to keep from touching him, my lips are on his. . .my hands are in his dark, thick hair—something I’ve always wanted to do—drowning in the goodness of being in Shaw’s embrace and feeling him inside me. I try to keep my hips still, but after a few seconds, they move on their own accord. With a loud growl, Shaw grips my legs tighter and begins to thrust into me—my back sliding up and down the wall as my hands try to find purchase.

  “Ahhhh,” I cry out, both in pleasure and delicious pain.

  It’s desperate.

  It’s frantic.

  It’s everything and yet I’m grasping for him, needing more.

  “Fuck,” I groan when Shaw begins to hit a spot inside me I didn’t even know existed. “Oh, fuck.”

  “God, Avery,” he moans. “You feel so fucking good. I’m gonna come, but I want this to...” He grunts and speeds up his pace. “I never want this to end. You feel amazing...”

  When his speed increases and his pelvis rubs against my clit while his cock drives into me, I erupt around him, completely coming undone. I’m so far gone that I don’t even remember Shaw coming. I wish I did. I wish I could remember every sound and word.

  I vaguely remember him carrying me up the stairs and laying me on a bed.

  At some point, in the early morning hours as the sun is barely peeking through the sheer curtains, I’m awakened by soft kisses on my shoulder. The feel of Shaw’s beard on my skin does tantalizing things to my body, waking me up better than my favorite cup of coffee.

  This time, when Shaw rolls me over and slips between my legs, it’s slow and sensual.

  It’s savoring and soft.

  And I get a front-row seat to Shaw’s orgasm, soaking up every nuance—the way his neck elongates as he comes, the vein that becomes more prominent, his perfect white teeth capturing that full bottom lip I love to suck on.

  Later, I’m not sure how long, I wake up again to the bright New Orleans sunshine painting the room a beautiful golden color. Lifting my head off the softest pillow I’ve ever laid my head on, I sleepily look around the room, letting the events of earlier sink in.

  I’m here.

  At Shaw’s.

  With him.

  And I had the best sex of my life.

  I can’t help the smile that splits my face and I’m kind of glad Shaw’s nowhere around to see it, because it’s so big I wouldn’t be able to hide it. Rolling over, I sit up in bed and bring the grey quilt with me, pulling it to my chest. The alarm clock on the nightstand says it’s only nine in the morning. Somehow, I feel as if I slept half a day away.

  I guess a few orgasms will do that to you.

  I wouldn’t know. It’s been too long since I had one...at least, until last night...or this morning.

  And that’s when I remember Jeremy.

  Shit.

  A hard lump forms in my throat and I struggle to swallow around it. What was he thinking? He wasn’t. If he was, then I just don’t know. I’ve never been addicted to anything so I have no idea what that’s like. Hard, I’m sure. The fact that he no longer exists is still hard for me to wrap my mind around.

  It doesn’t feel real.

  Glancing around again, wondering where Shaw is, I listen closely, but don’t hear any noises in the house. Then, I see a piece of paper beside the alarm clock. Leaning over, I grab it and in a neat handwriting there’s a note.

  Avery,

  It’s 8:30 and I’m going for a run. Be back in an hour.

  Shaw

  As I look back at the clock, I decide I have enough time to hop in the shower before he gets back. So, I walk over to the chest of drawers in the corner and grab one of his white t-shirts—I don’t think he’ll mind—and head to the shower.

  I’ve just finished towel drying my hair and using some of Shaw’s toothpaste to brush my teeth with my finger when I hear the front door open and close downstairs.

  “Shaw?” I call out as I put everything back where I found it on the counter. I’m just getting ready to call out again when I see him in the reflection of the mirror. My smile is instant, thoughts of earlier this morning racing back, but when I see his expression, mine falls.

  The bag Shaw is holding falls to the ground and his breathing increases. He looks pale, like he saw a ghost.

  “Shaw?” I ask, cautiously walking out of the bathroom.

  “Your fucking towel is on the floor,” he sneers. His eyes aren’t on me, they’re focused on something behind me. When I turn around, I see the towel I used to dry off with on the floor behind me.

  Nervously, due to the anger rolling off him, I take a few steps back a
nd pick it up, holding it to my chest. “I’m sorry. I was going—”

  “Were you born in a fucking barn?” He yells this time and it makes me flinch. Images of Brant flash through my mind and I feel the need to run.

  “No,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and even. “I was going to pick it up.” That last part comes out weak and quiet, my emotions taking over...my fear creeping in. I tell it to go away. This is Shaw. Shaw won’t hurt me. But then he yells again.

  “You don’t fucking leave towels on the bathroom floor!”

  Now, he’s pacing and I swear I hear him muttering to himself. Looking around the bedroom, I try to figure out what went wrong—what I did wrong—and how I can get myself out of this. The feeling of being trapped is overwhelming, so I stand there frozen, waiting for Shaw to calm down or give me a chance to get the hell out of here.

  Chapter 23

  Avery

  What the hell is wrong with me? How do I keep managing to find myself in these situations? I feel like I’m a nice girl who deserves a nice guy, but I’m starting to think all the nice guys really are taken.

  I thought I’d found a nice guy in Shaw, even though it took months for him to show that side of himself. But now I don’t know what to think.

  Being with Shaw at his house—in his bed—was perfect. Better than all the dreams I’d had about him, every fantasy all rolled into one. I’ve never experienced anything like that. It was more than sex; it was passion and need and connection. Maybe even love or something that could turn into love.

  But when he started yelling at me, I didn’t know what to think. I was so caught off guard and confused as to why he’d be so upset over a towel, but then I looked at him—truly looked at him. He wasn’t the Shaw I knew at that point. He was a man possessed. Possessed by what though? Anger, sure, but there was more. He was desperate and hurting and completely devastated by something. I know it sounds crazy, but I wanted so badly to comfort him, console him, chase away his demons for him.

  Shaw telling me to get out hurt me like I’ve never hurt before, and that’s saying a lot. Hearing him rasp out the word “please” nearly killed me.

  I can’t help but compare this situation with my last fight with Brant in Houston. I once couldn’t imagine Brant raising his voice to me or hitting me, but he did. Shaw yelling at me didn’t make me fear for my safety but it was jarring, nonetheless. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting after our amazing night together.

  My phone buzzes on the coffee table but I ignore it. Shaw has been calling and texting regularly but I haven’t responded in any way. I honestly don’t know what to say to him. I’d like to think we could work through whatever is eating away at him but, maybe, he doesn’t want that. Maybe he thinks our night together was a mistake.

  And what about my job? Can we even work together now? Will I be able to look at him tomorrow, knowing what it’s like for him to be inside me but also knowing what it feels like to have his wrath focused on me?

  I’m so confused.

  So very, very confused.

  And when I think my brain can’t take much more, Jeremy comes to mind and my confusion is replaced by guilt. This crap with Shaw has taken over my brain and my heart and I haven’t allowed myself to grieve for my friend. I just can’t believe he’s gone.

  I also hate that the last memory I have of him is the night in the hallway.

  I wish I would’ve had a chance to see him the next day, maybe help him in some way.

  The ache in my chest is so heavy.

  Later, CeCe brings me leftover lemon cake from the coffee shop and we binge watch Friends. She doesn’t ask many questions or grill me for information. She just lets me process and deal with things in my own way and my own time.

  She’s a good friend, probably one of the best I’ve ever had. I know I need to find my own place, but I’m grateful to be here right now because being alone would suck.

  That thought makes me think of Shaw and the fact that he’s probably alone in that big house and my heart breaks a little more for him.

  After a fitful night’s sleep, I wake up late and trudge downstairs to help CeCe for a few hours before our weekly Tuesday meeting at the bar. The thought crossed my mind on more than one occasion to call in sick. I might even get by with a text message to Shaw. But that’s not me.

  So, at noon, I’m walking up to the front door of Come Again with an anvil sitting in the bottom of my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for Shaw—his voice, his smell, everything about him that affects every part of me.

  When I step inside, the bar is eerily quiet. Paulie and Shaw are standing behind the bar deep in a quiet conversation. Kevin and Charlie are sitting at the table in the corner. The only people missing are me, Sarah...and Jeremy.

  I swallow down the onslaught of emotions and steel myself as I walk across the wooden floor and take a seat in one of the empty seats at the table.

  Conversation ceases and I feel like all eyes are on me. The tension in the room escalates as I feel Shaw’s eyes on me, but I don’t turn to see him. I can’t. Self-preservation is telling me to look away and not give into my deep-rooted desire.

  Clearing his throat, Shaw gets everyone’s attention and starts to talk just as Sarah walks through the back door. Her presence is what we needed to balance the scales. She gives everyone a soft smile as she takes a seat on the barstool in front of Shaw, facing the rest of us.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she says. “I’ve got an early lunch next door for everyone after we’re finished here.”

  I look from her and slowly over to Shaw, letting myself take him in for the first time since getting here. Oddly enough, the dark circles under his eyes don’t make me feel better. It’s obvious that he’s lost sleep and I hate it. I should be glad, because so have I, but I’m not.

  Shaw nods his head at Sarah and then turns his attention back to where me, Charlie, and Kevin are sitting. Paulie stands beside him with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor.

  “As you all know,” Shaw begins, “Jeremy was found late Saturday night outside a bar on Bourbon Street. He’d overdosed and was gone by the time the police found him.” He pauses for a minute shrugging his shoulders and giving a harsh shake to his head. “I’ve been in touch with his family and had his body sent home. It was the right thing to do, but it means that none of us will get to say an official goodbye.”

  Shaw’s eyes dart to mine and settle there, reaching deep into my soul.

  “I’m sorry about that. I know we all need a little closure. So, I thought we’d close the place down for the day. Sarah’s got lunch fixed and y’all can have the rest of the day off to mourn in whatever way you see fit.”

  Everyone is silent, mostly lost in their own thoughts, but I’m stuck on Shaw and the sincerity in his words. The confusion I’ve felt since he walked into his bedroom Sunday morning is back in full force. What makes him go from this caring, thoughtful man to the one who went off on me because of a wet towel?

  I don’t understand it.

  Maybe it’s not for me to understand?

  Shaw has secrets and if he’s not willing to share that part of himself with me, there’s nowhere for us to go from here. And I don’t think I can go back to just being his employee.

  When the guys finally get up to go next door to eat, Sarah follows behind them, placing a hand on my shoulder on her way by. A few moments later, the back door closes and it’s just me and Shaw, who’s now leaning against the bar with his head hanging down. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear.

  The apology is nice, but I want more.

  “For what?” I ask, standing from my chair and walking in front of the bar to face him.

  His head lifts slowly and troubled, guarded eyes meet mine. “For everything.”

  I give him a sad smile because when I look at him, I see the walls being built back up and I don’t want to be shut out again. I’ve been behind those walls and I’ll kn
ow what I’m missing out on, and I can’t be here if he’s not going to let me in.

  Every day would be torture.

  “I’m quitting,” I state as firmly as I can, but my voice cracks and betrays me. “I, uh...I need to find something else.” This wasn’t planned so I don’t have a speech planned.

  Shaw’s brows furrow as his face hardens. “What?”

  “I can stay for a couple weeks if you need me to, but I’m quitting.” I can hear myself talking but it’s coming from somewhere inside that’s detached.

  “Why?” Shaw’s voice sounds as shattered as I feel.

  “You told me I should think of myself...this is me doing that.”

  His expression softens as he takes a deep breath and then exhales. Blinking slowly, he runs his hands down his face, cupping his hands over his mouth. Finally, he says, “You should do that.”

  This time, there’s resolve mixed with acceptance. The pull I’ve felt between us is still there, but it’s loosened as Shaw lets me walk out of the bar.

  Once I’m out on the sidewalk, I allow myself to look back and see Shaw standing where I left him with his hands covering his face. For a split second, I think about walking back in there and forcing him to tell me the truth, making him let me in, but I want him to want to tell me.

  I want him to want me enough to give me everything.

  Every broken piece.

  It’s been five days since Jeremy’s death and two days since I quit my job at Come Again.

  I spent the better part of that afternoon inside the cathedral. I’m not Catholic, but it felt like the right place to be. When I walked inside and saw other people praying and lighting candles, I was drawn to them and the peacefulness I felt when I stepped inside. So, I stayed and lit my own candle.

  For Jeremy.

  For Shaw.

  For me.

  Then, I listened to the beautiful choir sing and sent up silent prayers for everyone and everything hurting in my life.

  After that, I walked to Canal Street and hopped on a streetcar that took me to The Crescent Moon. I needed comfort food and Wyatt always makes me feel welcome. It’s kind of been my safe place since I got to this city. When I walked in and saw Shaw’s table empty, I almost took it, but changed my mind and opted for the one I sat at my first day here.