by Vivian Lux
As Jackson's cock slid back inside of me, I moaned in relief. "God," Finn gasped. "Look at you. Your eyes roll back in your head when you get fucked well, did you know that?" I looked down, and my eyes widened when I saw that he had his heavy cock in his fist, stroking himself as he watched me get fucked from behind. "Each time he slams into you, you gasp," Finn said, breathless. "I love seeing you get fucked, Bee." His hand was moving faster now, as Jackson gripped me tighter. "You have to come again," Finn exhaled sharply. "I want to watch you while you come, and I want to come while I see your face."
"Shit girl," Jackson gritted. "Get there. I'm so close." His fingers slid around, catching the tiny buzzing nub of my clit, dancing there, driving me closer and closer to the brink. Finn watched me, breathless and entranced by whatever it was he saw on my face, and the full force of their attention was directed on me, shining like a spotlight that made me feel like a star. My breath caught. "Yes," Finn rasped, and suddenly I was shouting again.
He stood up, fist pumping furiously, and all at once he was coming too, his own shouts drowning out mine as he spilled himself into his hand, and at the same time, Jackson's fingertips gripped my hips tight, digging into my flesh. He thrust into me so hard I saw stars, and spent himself deep inside of me while both men roared out my name.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Finn
When our voices died away, there was no more sound. The whole restaurant was eerily silent, not even the click of the air-conditioning system, or the sound of the wind outside interrupted the heavy silence that filled my ears. The only sound was the ragged breathing of three sets of lungs as all of a sudden, we realized what we had just done.
Somehow I was able to wrench my eyes away from the work of art that was a freshly fucked Bee, and glance in the direction of Jackson.
He was watching me, warily, unsure as to what to make of all this now that it was over. His lip curled up in a slow, tentative, cautious smile.
I took a breath, and then gave him a nod. We'd deal with how it happened... later. With what had happened... later.
For now, it was only Bee that mattered.
And right now, she wasn't looking all that great.
"Oh my God," she exhaled, so quietly I don't think she realized she'd even said it. Her face went pale as she whispered again in quiet panic, "Oh my God."
"Hey," I said, moving to reach for her.
But she yanked her arm away before I could grab it. Glaring at me, she slid from the table and padded barefoot over to where her clothes had fallen in a heap. Her face went from pale to flushed bright red as she looked at her shirt, then resolutely yanked it over her naked breasts without even bothering with her bra.
"Bee," Jackson said, the care in his voice tugging at my heart for some strange reason.
But she turned sharply, fire blazing in her eyes. And she opened her mouth and said, "No."
There was only the sound of breathing again, but this was different. It was the sound of her anger as her breathing grew faster and faster. Like she was getting ready to run for her life.
I held my hands up, desperate to stave off whatever it was that was happening in her brain. "We didn't do anything wrong here," I pointed out judiciously.
Her eyes flashed. "Oh sure. You didn't," she burst out. "Two guys? Scoring with the same girl?" A wild, mirthless laugh escaped her throat. "Well! You're just a couple of studs, aren't you? Anyone finds out you did this, they give you a high five, maybe buy you a drink or something. What about me?" At that, her voice quavered a little. "What about me? Shit. There's a word for a girl who gets fucked by two guys at once," she bleated. "I'm a fucking slut!"
"Bee!" I cried angrily. "Don't say that..."
"Why not?" she demanded. "It's true. I can't believe...." She closed her mouth and her eyes went out of focus for a moment as slow, dawning comprehension washed over her face. "I can't believe I did that," she whispered.
Then she froze stock still, and then all at once turned and ran for the door.
"Bee!" Jackson cried as he rushed after her.
"Jackson, pants!" I yelled as I struggled into mine.
He growled, and whirling around he yanked a piece of plastic sheeting down upon from the wall and wrapped it around his waist in some sort of loincloth. I sprinted past him, zipping my fly as I did so, and yanked open the door.
She was there. Thank God. I was so relieved that she hadn't left, that she hadn't got into her car and rushed off before I could say anything or do anything to prove to her that this wasn't something she needed to regret having done. That no one was going to talk badly about her, not while I had breath in my body....
But she was right there. I didn't even think about why she was there, until I looked up and saw it.
"Fucking hell," I swore.
This time, it wasn't only across the front of her window. No, this time the black, angry letters marched from one side of her building, all the way around to the other, wrapping her sweet little shop in a ribbon of anger.
And this time, "go home!" was not the worst thing that it said. No, this time it was much, much worse.
Slowly, I looked over at her.
She stood there, frozen. Stock still like a statue. Her face was calm and focused. Only the flare of her nostrils, and the high spots of color on her cheeks betrayed how angry she was.
"Oh, what the fuck?" Jackson swore when he caught up with us. He stood there for a moment, and then exhaled. "I'll call the police," he said.
"I'll go get the solvent," I agreed with a nod.
"It's okay," Bee said tightly. "I'll deal with that."
"No fucking way we're letting our girl deal with this alone," Jackson growled. "We're helping you."
I glanced over at him and caught his eye. "Our girl?" I mouthed.
He shrugged.
"You go back in," I told her. "Get some more wine. We'll take care of this."
For a second, I wondered if she was going to smack me. The way her eyes flashed, and her color flared upward, I wondered if maybe she thought somehow I had done this. She radiated misdirected anger, and honestly, if it'd make her feel better, I'd take one in the jaw.
But then, she sagged a little. And that was almost worse.
The look of defeat that slid over her face was more terrifying than her fury.
"Okay," she said sadly, and headed back in.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay," I said, trying to gather my thoughts. Jackson was watching me closely. "So. We'll talk about all this later," I said, gesturing to him and his plastic sheeting loincloth. "Right now, you need to put on pants, before the police you're about to call arrest you for public nudity.”
"What? I'm covered!" he protested. Then he looked down.
The sheeting was completely transparent, and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I wrinkled my nose and looked away.
He let out a short laugh. "Oh, I see. I guess you seen enough of my dick for one evening?"
"Fuck off," I laughed, some of the tension draining out of my shoulders as I did.
Jackson grinned. "You can look again. One more time. If you need to."
I shook my head. "You are such an asshole," I said.
He shrugged and looked over his shoulder back into the restaurant. "Yeah," he said. "At least that much hasn’t changed."
I heard the meaning in his words. That hadn't changed.
But everything else suddenly had.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jackson
The police officer introduced himself as Officer Abbott and acted like he and Bee were old friends. He was also completely in love with her. That much was apparent from the dumbstruck look on his face as he watched her speak and the furious nodding he did as he wrote down what she said.
Can't say I blamed the guy at all.
Officer Abbott had taken photos of the graffiti first and then asked if we could head inside so he could get a statement. I gently steered Bee away from her damaged store and
back into the restaurant, sitting her down so her back was to the window that faced the worst of the vandalism. I couldn't keep myself from brushing her arm, sweeping her hair back from her shoulder and pressing my palm to the small of her back. Just touching her. Just so she knew she wasn't alone. That I was here — fuck — that we were here. Outside of the window, Finn was furiously scrubbing away the graffiti. He looked like he was ready to scour the walls back to the studs if that's what it took to get it right for Bee.
We were here. She didn't have to do this alone.
"So," Officer Abbott said. "It happened again, huh?"
Bee was perched on the edge of one of our tables. Her back was straight and tall, and her hands were calmly folded in her lap. She looked perfectly poised and composed. But I liked to think I knew her well enough to recognize the signs of agitation. The high spots of color on her cheeks. The bloodlessness of her lips, and the biting clip to her voice as she said, "I guess so, Jerry," with a tight smile. "I guess it did happen again."
"Well you know, I promised to get to the bottom of this," Jerry said, looking rueful. "But I have to say, whoever is doing this times it for when our patrol car isn't going by."
"Seems that way," I interjected angrily
Bee shot me a look, and gave a slight shake of her head.
I grimaced, and looked down. It hurt like hell to hold my tongue, but I did it for her sake.
"So, I've been meaning to ask you," Jerry asked. "Have you any idea about who we should be checking out? You told me there was nobody who had it out for you."
Bee squirmed a little, leaning back and drumming her fingers against the surface of the table. "Well now, Jerry," she said with a sigh. "I'm afraid that's not entirely true."
Jerry leaned forward. "You have an idea who might've done this?"
I could see her swallow, the rise and fall of her delicate throat. "You mean who do I suspect?" she asked with a heavy sigh. "Well, there are a lot of people angry at me, I guess."
I sat up a little straighter, leaning forward. She caught the motion, and ducked her head looking reluctant. "Go ahead," I whispered.
"Well," she said. "There's my dad."
"Your own father?" Jerry asked, sputtering.
She laughed tightly. "Yeah, he's probably pissed at me for wasting the money he spent on my wedding," she said. "But spray paint isn't really his style."
Jerry looked completely dumbstruck. Just like how I felt. Bee looked down. "Then, there's my mother. She hates the fact that she has a divorced daughter. Totally ashamed of that failure."
She sniffed. "But she'd never risk getting her hands dirty. Or staining her clothes with black paint."
"Who else?" Jerry asked, furiously scribbling in his notepad.
She darted another look at my direction. "It's okay," I told her. And I was telling the truth. I didn't give a shit about her past. I only cared about being part of her present.
She looked down again. "Well, there's my ex of course." She pressed her lips together and looked so sad for a moment that I wanted to gather her up in my arms and hold her tight. "But I don't think it's him."
Jerry was leaning almost off of his chair. "Make sense to me," he said with a knowing nod. "Bitter ex-husband, wanting to intimidate his wayward bride."
Bee looked up sharply. "No. That's not his style at all," she said fervently. "Zach, he likes to pretend that this whole thing — the leaving him, the divorce — is all me just being irrational. That I'll realize my mistake, and come home to him any minute now." She spat her words out with such venom I was almost afraid for the guy. Almost. "Honestly?" she went on. "I think he cared so little about me that he wouldn't even notice that I was gone."
A flash of anger struck me, and I sat back in my chair. My hands curled around the arms as if they were her ex-husband's throat. I wanted to shake all of these people and scream in their faces, demand to know what the hell they were doing. Didn't they know who she was? Didn't they understand what they had?
At the same time, as I watched her with her head still held high, I was in awe of her. This was her family, her husband. And she'd left them, all of them, and struck out on her own.
This girl was incredible. There was no denying it.
Jerry asked another couple of questions, seeming to wrap up his investigation. He stood up, and Bee shook his hand, lifting her chin fiercely and looking him in the eye. "You're gonna fix it, right Jerry?" she asked, and her voice was clear and commanding, and I swear I was ready to join the police academy just so I could take care of it for her.
"I'm going to do my best, Beatrix," he said, and I sincerely believed that he was. "You take care now," he said, looking between me and her. Then his eyes rested on me. "You take care of her," he said seriously.
"Oh he's not..." Bee started to say...
But I cut her off. "I will," I said, looking her in the eye.
Her lips parted, and I saw her tongue flick out nervously twisting around and around and I had to strongest desire to kiss her right there in front of Jerry.
I got up from my chair and went to her, sliding my arm along the small of her back. At that moment, Finn came in from outside, reeking of solvent and looking royally pissed off. When his eyes landed on Bee, and me with my arms around her, I held my breath, wondering if I'd misread things. When I said she was our girl, I didn't realize how serious a claim that was until just now.
"Goddammit." Bee slid down into one of the chairs like all the wind had gone out of her sails. "I can't keep doing this."
A little ripple of fear went through my body. "Doing what?" I asked.
"Cleaning off my store!" she half-laughed, half sobbed and a small, mean part of me was relieved that that was all it was. "I mean look at it! Someone clearly doesn't want me here. Someone is trying to send me a message." She looked up and bright tears gleamed in her big brown eyes. "Maybe I should actually listen to them?" she asked.
"No," Finn growled.
She looked at him wildly. "Why not? I can't fucking do this anymore. Maybe I should just go home."
"To who?"
"My husband?"
"The guy that stepped out on you?"
"Well?" she said, half-hysterical. "I mean, it wasn't so bad, anyway. I didn't have to work so goddamned hard just to get by. That was nice." She swallowed back a choked sob. "And I didn't have an apparent army of vandals dead set on ruining my damn day."
"The police will find them," I promised her.
"Yeah but then what?" she asked. "I mean, what's keeping me here? Pride? I'm all alone..."
"No you're not," I interrupted.
Finn nodded and stepped to her. "No," he repeated, tilting her chin up with his fingers. "You're not."
"We'll help you," I said, squeezing her a little tighter. "We're here."
She swallowed and then something inside of her broke, I could see it. Whatever tension that had been wound way too tight suddenly snapped, and she collapsed against my chest.
"I've got you," I whispered, stroking her hair back as she sobbed against my shirt. "We've got you."
"You're okay," Finn echoed, rubbing her back. "You're not going to let this stop you."
"You're too talented," I added.
"And too damn smart."
"And fuck if you're not stubborn enough to make it happen just by sheer force of your own will," I observed.
She laughed through her tears and looked up at me and then down at my shirt. "I got you wet," she mumbled, dabbing at the soaked patch on my shirt.
I kissed her forehead. "Consider it payback for when I got you wet," I said with a grin.
She laughed and then sniffled and looked up at Finn who silently handed her a tissue. His eyes bounced from me to Bee. He stepped forward, and slid his arm around her back so that it rested just on top of mine. "Come on," he said, slipping right into mother hen mode. "You're exhausted, sweet girl." He looked over the top of her head, and caught my eye. I nodded, he nodded back.
Right. Got it. She was our gi
rl.
"Come on sweetheart," I said. "We're taking you home."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Bee
No one spoke as we walked through my front door.
And I didn't stand in the entryway and welcome them into my home. I didn't give them a guided tour of the rooms, chattering aimlessly about my decorating scheme and how hard it was to find a couch small enough to fit in my shoebox sized living room. I didn't rush to the kitchen to slam open cupboards and drawers.
I felt no need play hostess. No drive to pour drinks and lay out something for them to eat.
Finn and Jackson were guests in my home. I felt that on an instinctual level. But I had no thought about treating them that way. It went against every fiber of my upbringing, but I somehow was able to see them as...
Belonging there.
Finn's hand rested at the small of my back, and I leaned into it, needing to feel that gentle, warming pressure as he guided me upstairs. I felt like it kept me from falling. I was suddenly so goddamned tired.
"Which room?" Jackson asked in a soft murmur. I gestured to the door on the right, and he opened it. My habit of keeping all the doors closed in my house was a holdover from growing up in a bed and breakfast where privacy was never guaranteed. I still kept it on, even though I now lived alone.
But right now, I wasn't alone.
Jackson walked into my bedroom, looking for all the world like he belonged there, and pulled back the sheets on my bed. I let out a grateful breath, and felt myself pulled, almost as if it had its own special gravity dragging me towards it.
I slid in and rolled over, and looked up at Jackson. "Are you going to tuck me in?" I asked, grinning.
"You want me to?"
"You know?" I exhaled. "Nobody ever has before."
Jackson winced a little, and then gave a soft smile. "Here," he murmured, grabbing the covers and tucking them up under my chin. "Okay?"
I closed my eyes. I'd never felt more snug or more protected in my entire life. I let out a deep sigh. "Okay," I replied.