Shawn's Law (27 page)

He moaned and arched up on his toes. I knew what he wanted. I knew what I wanted too. It was the same thing, and it involved a lot less clothing and a lot more privacy.

I opened my mouth for his foraying tongue, allowing the flavor of him to burst over my taste buds. My brain remembered the link between that particular taste and other pleasures and sent the signal to my dick that it was party time. Perhaps my father’s suggestion of making up in the front yard was not the best idea. Shawn’s tongue was dueling with mine, but it was the wetness and the warm lick on my chin that brought me back to earth. Shawn was receiving his own licks.

We pulled apart and looked down at the tiny creature giving us both happy kisses. Shawn laughed. “Not in front of the children, dear,” he quipped.

I growled lightly. “Just you wait until we’re alone, then.”

Shawn’s grin could only be described as saucy. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Harley

The end.

L
IKE
ALL
relationships, Shawn and I required a lot of work, a lot of talk, a lot of compromise, and a heck of a lot of sex to get to where we are today. And of course, with Shawn’s Law as our constant roommate, trials were unavoidable.

Shawn laughs and teases me about my “save the world” mentality, but he’s exactly the same, just on a smaller scale. He still talks to Rory on the phone, although the phone calls are less frequent now. Shawn didn’t talk to him for months after our little disagreement. Rory rang and begged, wrote and begged, and finally told Shawn he’d tell him exactly where Francis Gerald was buried if Shawn would simply talk to him once again.

I attended the burial service for Francis’s bones, along with Shawn and several members of the taskforce tracking down Rory’s victims. Francis’s mother and father personally thanked Shawn and hugged him tightly, telling him how glad they were to know the truth at last. I was never more proud of him. He may not think he’s a superhero, but he is. He saves the world in his own special way.

And let us not forget that he can make things go
awry
.

I also stood at Shawn’s side as Estelle slipped deeper into the clutches of her disease. I was strong for him while he tried his best. In the end he had to give up the fight to care for her at home. She lasted only three weeks in the nursing home before she slipped away peacefully. It broke something inside Shawn that I was unable to heal with my love. It was only the smile of his new niece, named Stella, after her grandmother, who was able to reach that part of Shawn and kiss it better. Despite his claim that he could never love another niece as much as he loved Izzy, I know that Stella holds a very special place in his heart.

The day I convinced Shawn to move in with me was one of my happiest. His old house was full of memories he needed to escape, and although he mourned the loss of his veggie garden and mature fruit trees, the thought of planning a new one from scratch was ambrosia to him.

Looking for a house together was a trial I never wish to go through again. Ever.

Shawn didn’t just want any old house—it had to be perfect. He insisted that it needed a pool, or at least room to put in a pool. I didn’t know why the house needed a pool and why he was so insistent on it. Then Shawn gave me a small peck on the lips and sauntered over to the dishwasher, where he bent over to put a cup inside. I suddenly understood his insistence.

It also needed space for a veggie garden. Not as big as the one he had with Estelle. He no longer had as much time since I’d found him a job. But he still wanted to potter around in the soil when he could.

Shawn needed an art room, and I needed a study since I didn’t have a nine-to-five job where I could keep all the paperwork and my computer. We needed somewhere that was big enough for three dogs (or two-point-two dogs, as I like to tease Jenny) and that had a dog park nearby. We wanted to be close to Lisa, and I needed it to be an easy commute to the city.

Easy, right?

We finally found a house to buy together and planned a big housewarming. I remember the guest list. Shawn was in the shower at my house, and I had just switched on the kettle for him. He needs his coffee in the mornings. I’ve tried to introduce him to green tea and several other invigorating blends, but he tells me he can make the same taste by dunking some of the weeds in his backyard into some water. I sigh in exasperation, but make sure he buys the free-trade coffee beans.

I picked up the piece of paper he’d been scribbling on the night before, and realized it was a list of people he wanted to invite to the bash we were planning once we had our keys. There were the obvious names—Lisa, Brendan, the kids, Kris, Kyle. But then I blinked at the next names—Greg and Tania (from the ambulance service), Amber, Christine, and Lee-Lee (from the hospital), Colin and Geoff (the repo guys), Marty and Cullen (from the auto-breakdown service) and his regular doctor, Jeffrey Sims.

“Babe?” I asked as I wandered into the bathroom. “Why do we need to invite Greg and Tania and Marty and Colin and all the rest? I know that they’re your friends, but are they close friends that we should be having at our party?”

I could see him through the frosted glass as he stopped and looked at me as if I were lacking in intelligence. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea that they know where our new house is?”

I nodded and conceded he was right. Then I watched as Shawn ran the soap across his chest and dipped lower. The glass didn’t show me the details, but my mind filled in the blanks.

“Babe? Do you think that Shawn’s Law is still asleep? Can we risk a quickie in the shower this morning?”

He turned and smiled at me. “Washed and ready for you, Harley. What took you so long?”

There was a box of condoms on the bathroom bench and so I dropped my shorts and suited up.

The discrepancy in our heights means that we need to be a little inventive when it comes to sex standing up. After almost drowning because we couldn’t make it work, I purchased a shower chair with grippy legs. Best investment ever.

Shawn crawled up on the chair and presented to me—no hesitation whatsoever. I’d finally convinced him that he turned me on something fierce, and he now reveled in his newfound “sexy” status. He often waved his meaty arse in my direction and ended up well fucked for his trouble. He was a total tease now. For example, he’d often come home from work, look around and say, “It’s a lot breezier in here today. Have you opened a window?” I’d know immediately that he was trying out free balling, which would make me instantly hard, and I’d just have to check him out. With my mouth.

Or the time he read that pineapple can make your semen taste sweeter, and for months he teased me by telling me he’d had pineapple that day and would I like to try it out? Of course I did.

Six months into our relationship, I realized that Shawn was keeping count of how many blow jobs he owed me. It’s the little things that make me love him more. No matter how many times I tell him that he doesn’t owe me one-for-one in the blow job stakes, he keeps a little mental tally. Apparently the pineapple research put me in front by seventy-three, and he still hasn’t whittled the total down.

Inviting Greg and Tania to the party was a good move. We don’t see them as often as we used to, but they’re still needed, every now and then. Shawn’s Law still hangs around, but I try to remain calm, and unobtrusively prepare. As I mentioned earlier, thick sheepskin rugs on either side of the bed are good. I’ve also installed the bench seat in the shower, which minimizes the risk of us drowning and gives me a lot of pleasure. We have a smoke alarm in every room. I update my first aid skills every six months and I never take any risks with lightning.

I’ve purchased several fire extinguishers, and I carry one around in my car. Shawn gave me a speaking look when I installed one in the kitchen and one in the garden shed. I didn’t say anything, but made sure the three others I bought were well hidden. They were on special at the hardware store, and I knew it would be financially better in the long run. I was right.

Picky and Louie do a great job of looking after Shawn for me while I’m away overseas. Shawn’s not really sure about traveling, so I’ve left him home while I’ve helped tsunami victims rebuild and distributed hepatitis vaccines. There’s a safe sex and HIV-awareness campaign planned for Brazil early next year that Shawn has agreed to attend with me. It’s three weeks of hiking and road trips to spread the message, and it culminates in the fun of Rio’s Mardi Gras.

I’m excited. But I’ve told myself we’re not allowed to go anywhere near Rio’s Christ the Redeemer statue. Can you imagine if Shawn’s Law met Jesus?

Shawn

When Shawn’s Law met Jesus.

I
T
WASN
’
T
my fault. I swear.

His arm just came off.

R
ENAE
K
AYE
is a lover and hoarder of books who thinks libraries are devilish places because they make you give the books back. She consumed her first adult romance book at the tender age of thirteen and hasn’t stopped since. After years—and thousands of stories!—of not having book characters do what she wants, she decided she would write her own novel and found the characters still didn’t do what she wanted. It hasn’t stopped her, though. She believes that maybe one day the world will create a perfect couple—and it will be the most boring story ever. So until then she is stuck with quirky, snarky, and imperfect characters who just want their story told.

Renae lives in Perth, Western Australia, and writes in five minute snatches between the demands of two kids, a forbearing husband, too many pets, too much housework, and her beloved veggie garden. She is a survivor of being the youngest in a large family and believes that laughter (and a good book) can cure anything.

You can e-mail her at [email protected], view her website at http://renaekaye.weebly.com, and follow her on Twitter @renaekkaye.

The Blinding Light

By Renae Kaye

Jake Manning’s smart mouth frequently gets him into trouble. Because of it, he can’t hold a job. Combined with some bad luck, it’s prevented him from keeping steady employment. A huge debt looms over him, and alone he shoulders the care of his alcoholic mother and three younger sisters. When a housekeeping position opens, Jake’s so desperate he leaps at the opportunity. On landing, he finds his new boss, Patrick Stanford, a fussy, arrogant, rude… and blind man.

Born without sight, Patrick is used to being accommodated, but he’s met his match with Jake, who doesn’t take any of his crap and threatens to swap all the braille labels on his groceries and run off with his guide dog unless he behaves.

Jake gets a kick out of Patrick. Things are looking up: the girls are starting their own lives and his mum’s sobriety might stick this time. He’s sacrificed everything for his family; maybe it’s time for him to live his life and start a relationship with Patrick. When his mother needs him, guilt makes his choice between family and Patrick difficult, and Jake must realize he’s not alone anymore.