Widowed a Year, I Masked Up and Took Both of His Brothers novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Strangers on the Levee

On the Riverbend levee Vince's fingers and Tommy's mouth give Celie her first orgasms in a year while both brothers say aloud what they think of her, until Santo's name lights Tommy's phone.

Vince drove with one hand and talked the whole way up St. Charles Avenue.

"Stranger rules," he said to the mirror. "I can't ask you a single thing, so I'll just tell you what I see."

"Go ahead," I said.

"I see a woman in a black dress with her knees about two inches further apart than she thinks they are."

Tommy laughed, a short deep sound I had not heard from him in a year.

His hand had not left my knee since the loading dock.

At every red light it slid an inch higher under the hem, slow and exact.

I quit pretending to look out the window.

By Carrollton Avenue his thumb was moving on the inside of my thigh.

By the river road I was breathing through my mouth.

Vince turned onto the gravel below the levee at Riverbend and cut the lights.

Oak branches hung over the car, and past the grass the Mississippi was a long dark shoulder.

Nobody said anything.

Tommy put his black mask back on, and then he touched my jaw.

His palm covered half my face.

"Strangers," he said. "Tell me if I get it wrong."

"You haven't done anything yet."

"Yes, I have."

He kissed me.

It was slow, and he took his time, and his mouth tasted of bourbon and salt.

A year of nothing went through me at once.

I made a noise into his mouth that I would have been ashamed of in daylight.

"There," Tommy said against my lips. "Good. Just like that."

My door opened.

Vince crouched on the gravel with his mask pushed up on his forehead and held out his left hand.

"Come out, angel. I want to see you in the moonlight."

I let him pull me out.

He had thrown his jacket across the trunk, and he lifted me onto it in one move.

The metal was cold through the fabric, and the night air went straight up under my skirt.

Tommy came around the car and stood at my left side, huge and quiet, with his hand in my hair.

Vince stood between my knees.

"Now I get to tell you," he said. "You said you wanted it in our mouths."

"I did."

"Then listen."

His voice dropped, and the joke went out of it.

"You are the best-looking woman I have ever seen," Vince said. "I have walked around for seven years pretending I haven't noticed."

My stomach went tight.

"Seven years," Tommy said, low, above me. "Eight, for me."

"You think that's fine?" Vince asked. "Eight years of not looking at her?"

"I looked."

"I know you looked. You looked miserable. Everybody at Sunday dinner noticed."

I laughed, and it came out shaky, and Tommy pressed his thumb along my cheekbone until it stopped.

"Good girl," he said. "Let him tell you."

Something went through me when he said it, hot and low, and I opened my knees wider without deciding to.

Vince saw.

"Oh, there she is," he said, softly. "Look at that. She likes being told."

He pushed the black dress up to my hips, and his hands went flat on my thighs.

I was wearing nothing under it but lace, and the lace was wet through.

"God," Vince said. "Sweetheart. Look at you."

He hooked two fingers in the lace and dragged it aside.

The air touched me, and I jerked.

"Easy," Tommy said. "We have all night."

"I haven't been touched in a year," I said. My voice cracked on it. "I might not last."

"Then don't," Vince said. "Don't last. Come for us, and then we'll do it again."

He slid one finger into me.

It went in easily, and I heard how wet I was, and so did they.

"Fuck," Vince whispered. "You're soaked."

"Say it again," I said.

"You're so wet, angel. You're so good. You're so good for us."

A second finger followed.

His right hand, the bad one, the one I had held at the bar.

I felt it plainly, the last two fingers that did not straighten, pressing a hard knuckled curve exactly where I needed it.

I had read X-rays of hands like that at work.

A crush, not a fall.

Then Vince curled them and thought stopped.

I made a sound that echoed off the levee.

"Easy," Vince said, and he grinned at me, wicked and delighted. "They don't straighten, but they curl real well."

"Vince," Tommy said.

"I'm only saying," Vince said.

"Shut up and make her come."

"Yes, sir."

His thumb found my clit and circled it, light, then harder.

I grabbed Tommy's forearm with both hands.

His arm was solid under my hands, and he let me hold on.

His other hand cupped the back of my head.

He turned my face up to his and kissed me again, deep and unhurried, while his brother's fingers worked inside me.

"That's it," Tommy murmured into my mouth. "You're doing so well. Don't hold back for me."

"I'm close."

"I know. I can feel you shaking. Let go."

I came with my mouth against his and Vince's name in my throat, which I swallowed, because strangers did not have names.

My whole body locked and then poured out, and my thighs clamped around Vince's wrist.

"There it is," Vince said, shaky himself. "Christ. Look at that. Look at her."

I lay back on the trunk, shaking, and the oak leaves moved against the stars.

Nobody had made me feel that in a year.

Nobody had made me feel it in longer than that, if I was honest.

And I was being honest, with two men in masks on a levee road.

"Again," Tommy said.

I opened my eyes.

He was no longer standing at my side.

He had gone down on his knees in the gravel in his good tuxedo trousers, and he pushed Vince's hand gently away.

"My turn," he said. "Hold her, Vin."

Vince slid behind me on the trunk and pulled me back against his chest.

His arms crossed over my ribs, and his mouth was at my ear.

Tommy put his big hands under my knees and set my legs over his shoulders.

He looked up at me from between my thighs, with his mask pushed up and his dark eyes steady.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

"Your mouth," I said.

"Where?"

"On my pussy. Please. Tommy, please."

"No names," he said, but his voice was rough, and he smiled.

Then he put his mouth on me.

He did it slowly.

One long flat stroke of his tongue from bottom to top, and my back arched into Vince's chest.

"God," I said.

"Mm," Tommy said, into me, and the sound went through my whole body.

He found my clit and stayed there, light and steady, and did not change what he was doing.

It was exact and patient and unbearable.

"He's doing it right," Vince whispered in my ear. "Tommy does everything right."

I could not answer.

"Do you want to know what he said when he saw you in that dress tonight?"

"What?" I managed.

"Nothing. He didn't say anything. He went out to the loading dock and stood there with his hand over his mouth."

Tommy's tongue pressed down, and I cried out.

"You're beautiful," Vince said. "You're so good, sweetheart. You take it so well."

He nudged my chin down so I could see.

"Look at his shoulders, look how he's holding you. He'd stay there all night."

"I would," Tommy said, and licked me again, and I came apart for the second time with my fingers in his hair.

It went on longer than the first.

I rode his mouth without shame, and he held my hips and let me.

His low sounds of approval pushed me past where I thought I stopped.

When I fell back against Vince, shaking, my vision was spotted with white.

Tommy rose to his feet slowly.

His mouth was wet, and he wiped it with the back of his wrist.

He looked at me and did not look away.

"You taste like I thought you would," he said.

My face went hot all over again.

I sat up and found his belt with both hands.

"Celie," Tommy said, very quietly.

"I don't have a name tonight."

"Stranger." His breath caught as I opened his trousers. "You don't have to."

"I want to. Let me. I want to hear it."

I got him in my hand.

He was heavy and hot and so hard that he jumped at my touch.

He put his forehead against mine and swore in Sicilian.

"That's it," Vince said behind me, rough now. "Touch him. Look at him."

His breath was hot on my neck.

"He's wanted you for years and he's too polite to say so."

I reached back with my free hand and found Vince through his trousers.

He was as hard as his brother.

He groaned and ground into my palm.

I stroked them both, one in each hand, the three of us breathing together over the sound of the river.

"Good," Tommy said, on a broken breath. "Good girl. Slower. Yes."

"You feel perfect," Vince said. "Like that. Fuck, you're good at this."

I turned my head and kissed him over my shoulder, hard.

His mouth tasted of whiskey and of me.

"That's you," he said against my lips. "That's what you taste like. Can you tell?"

"Tell me."

"Sweet. A little salt. I'm going to dream about it."

"Let her have it from me too," Tommy said, rough.

He bent and kissed me, and I tasted both of them at once.

My hands tightened on the two of them without my meaning it.

Tommy hissed through his teeth.

"Careful. If you keep doing that, I'll ruin this suit."

"That's the best thing a suit has ever been told," Vince said, and his laugh caught on a groan.

"Then ruin it," I said.

I stroked faster.

I watched Tommy's face come apart in the dark, his mouth open and his eyes shut, and I watched Vince's head fall back.

I had never held a man's pleasure in my hand and felt it as a gift.

I felt it now.

"Celie," Tommy said again, strangled, and this time I let him.

"Say it," I told him. "Say what you think."

"I think you're the best thing in the world."

"Vince?"

"I think I'd walk into the river for you," Vince said, hoarse. "Right now. Just say."

Both of them were shaking.

I wanted them inside me so badly that my legs shook.

"Not here," I said. "I want a door."

"Not on a car," Tommy agreed.

He caught my wrist before I could take him further and held it gently, breathing hard.

"You deserve a door."

"Then take me home."

Behind me on the trunk, something buzzed against the metal.

Tommy's phone had slid out of his jacket, and the screen lit up the gravel.

One word on it: ZIO.

Tommy turned it face down, slowly, with one finger.

"Take me home," I said again.

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