I Discharged Two Shrimper Brothers, Then Took Them Both Home novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Tuesday

They were on my porch at six on Tuesday with a bag of shrimp and no apology.

"Saturdays," I said through the screen.

"Doc," Rhett said. "It's Tuesday."

Boone stood a step behind him with his hat in his hand and said nothing at all.

I looked at the two of them for as long as I could stand it.

Then I opened the door.

On the boat Boone ran the wheelhouse and Rhett ran the deck.

They had worked it that way since their father died.

It showed in how they came through my door, one behind the other.

I put the shrimp in the sink and turned to the hall.

"Rhett," I said. "Sit on the bench."

Gran had given me that bench years ago, a plain pine one against the hall wall.

He looked at it and at me, and he sat.

"Hands on your knees."

"Doc," he said.

"On your knees, Rhett. You watch, and you do not touch yourself."

He put both hands flat on his knees.

His knuckles were already pale.

"Boone," I said. "Come here."

He crossed the hall in two strides and stopped in front of me.

He was so tall that I had to tip my head all the way back.

His gray eyes were serious and a little afraid.

"Pick me up," I said.

He put one arm under my ass and one around my back, and he lifted me off the floor.

My feet left the boards, and my arms went around his neck.

I weighed a hundred and forty pounds.

He held me against his chest and did not strain.

I kissed him.

He kissed me back hard, with none of Saturday's care.

He walked me two steps until my back met the wall.

The plaster was cool through my blouse.

His body was hot all down the front of me.

"Ma'am," he said against my mouth. "I've thought about this since the day you cut my shirt off to look at the plate."

"You thought about it for twelve weeks."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Then stop thinking."

He pushed my skirt up around my waist.

He found my underwear with his free hand and pulled it aside, and I felt his knuckles brush my wet skin.

He swore softly into my hair.

With his other arm still holding me up, he got his jeans open and freed himself.

I looked down between us.

He was long and hard, flushed dark, and I could not look away from how big he was against my small body.

"Look at me," Boone said.

I looked up.

"I'll go slow," he said.

"Don't."

He fit the head of his cock against me, and I reached down and held him there.

"Slow the first inch," I said. "Then I want all of it."

He pushed in.

I felt him stretch me open, thick and unhurried, and I dug my nails into his shoulders.

He stopped when I gasped.

"Keep going," I said.

He went on, inch by inch, until I was full and held against the wall with my legs around his waist.

He was all the way inside me, and my feet did not touch anything.

"Oh," I said. "Oh, God, Boone."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Move."

He pulled back and thrust.

My head knocked the wall.

He cupped it in his hand to keep it from hitting again, and then he thrust again.

He drove into me with long, strong strokes, and every one pushed me higher against the plaster.

I couldn't have moved if I tried.

I was pinned, lifted and held, and all I could do was take him.

I had never felt so small, or so safe, or so wanted.

Boone's mouth found my ear.

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