Moses locks eyes with me. “That’s why I didn’t beg you to leave with me. I couldn’t expect you to take a chance on me and give up everything you knew. Not then. Not when I had no idea where my path was going to take me. Not when there was a good chance you or me or both of us could end up dead.”
We’re both quiet for a few moments, and he opens a can of tomatoes to add to his delicious-smelling pan.
“I’m glad you didn’t push for me to go with you. Even though I wanted to stay with you bad, I knew I needed to be where I was.” A bead of condensation rolls down my glass of chilled white wine. “You know I never fucked another regular john after you left?”
He freezes and stares at me like a deer in headlights. “What do you mean by that?”
“I couldn’t do it. So I became someone else—a legendary madam who everyone would want and almost no one would get to have. I don’t know if I would’ve done it if I hadn’t met you. I might’ve just kept on the way I was. But I couldn’t. I made myself exclusive and expensive, and from that day forward, I never fucked anyone for money who I wouldn’t have fucked for free.”
Most men wouldn’t smile when their woman, a former sex worker, told them something like that, but Moses’s face lights up like a Mardi Gras float.
“I’m glad you finally realized your value, mama. I could see it back then, but I didn’t think you did.”
I take another sip of the wine and feel it flushing my cheeks. It has to be the wine because I don’t blush. Right?
Staring at my glass, I say, “It all worked out the way it was supposed to, I guess. I was no saint, so don’t go thinking that. But . . . I found a way to get what I wanted from that life without it eating me alive. Well, until now. I wouldn’t call the past few days ideal . . . except for spending them with this cocky motherfucker who likes curling my toes.”
His grin widens, and his teeth show when he laughs out loud. “You deserved the best.” He quiets for a beat, and then adds, “I only hate that I wasn’t here for you the whole time. To give you everything you needed.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t want you to give it to me. I needed to earn it myself. And I did. I made my own choices. Had control over my life. Found power in myself I never would have if you’d been around to do all the heavy lifting.”
His brows rise as he pours dry rice into boiling water. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? A former gangster-thief and a madam, who both made a life worth living despite the odds stacked against us.”
I lift my wineglass and salute him. “I’ll drink to that.”
Fifty-Two
Moses
We’re nearly through with dinner, outside on the patio, when the sky cracks open and rain comes pouring down. Magnolia and I grab our plates and rush inside, both soaked by the time we slip through the slider.
“Where the hell did that come from?” Magnolia asks, shaking her wet hair, but all I can see is the white T-shirt sticking to her tawny skin.
“I don’t know. You’re the expert on New Orleans weather, not me. Here,” I say as I grab her plate. “Let me get you set up at the table. I’d hate for you to miss a bite of my cooking. Mainly because I like the way you moan when you chew.”
She laughs. “I guess that means I’m going back out to save the wine.”
“Oh no you don’t. Because as much as I’d love seeing you look like you’re in a wet T-shirt contest, you need to go dry off. And if I follow you, I’m just gonna fuck you again.”
Her smile turns into temptation made manifest, and in three steps, she’s back outside in the rain, and the shirt is completely transparent.
“Is this what you mean? You don’t like it?” she calls from outside as thunder rumbles.
“Get your ass in here, woman. You can’t get struck by lightning on our first dinner date when you’re not spitting fire at me.”
“Come and get me then!” Magnolia spins in a circle, her arms wide, as rain falls from the sky. Her hair sticks to her face and the soaked shirt, and I wish I could capture the moment and keep it forever.
She looks . . . free. And happy as hell.
Come and get her? Damn right I will. Always.
I drop the plates on the counter and run outside, wrapping my arm around her waist and scooping her up into my arms. “You’re crazy, mama.”
With water rolling down her cheeks, she grins. “Crazy about you, Moby Dick.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” I take her mouth and kiss her, standing in the rain while it drenches us both, as if we didn’t have a single care in the world.
At least, until the next rumble of thunder cracks and reminds me that us getting fried means that there’s no more sex.
I carry her inside, not giving a shit about the water running off us all over the floor. I don’t stop until I reach the bathroom attached to our bedroom and flip the faucet to start the shower.
I lower her to her feet, running my hands over the wet T-shirt, cupping her generous tits and bringing them to my mouth. I suck her nipples through the fabric, rolling them between my teeth. Magnolia’s hands grip my head, pulling my mouth tighter against her.
Her whimper in my ear is the ultimate turn-on.
Heat from the steam of the shower hits my skin, and I finally pull back. “Strip, mama. I want you wet and naked for me.”
Magnolia’s lips curve up as soon as she steps back, following my order to a T. She shoves the shorts down her legs and then reaches for the hem of the shirt. Little by little, she draws it up, revealing all that smooth, smooth skin. The tee gets caught on her tits, and my cock is rock hard by the time her nipples pop free.
My groan sounds twice as loud in the bathroom, and I’m a man faced with a feast when the shirt hits the floor with a slap. I prowl toward her and she steps back into the shower, tempting me with a roll of her hips.
There’s only one thing for a man to do when faced with that kind of temptation.
Devour.
Fifty-Three
Magnolia
Moses follows me into the shower, and instead of taking my mouth or going for my tits again, he shocks me by dropping to his knees. The spray bounces off his back and head as he wraps those big hands around my hips and goes straight to my pussy.
Oh, hell yes. That’s my only thought as he sucks my clit into his mouth and tongues it, damn near sending me into an orgasm before I realize I’m even close.
Who am I fooling? I’ve been turned on since he fucked the hell out of me earlier. Round two? Bring it.
Moses doesn’t disappoint, and never has when it comes to this.
He slides a finger inside me, pumping in and out, curling it forward to hit my G-spot. That, combined with the suction on my clit, has me grasping his shoulders to stay upright as my knees go weak.
“How do you do this to me? Christ, Moby.”
Moses glances up, his lips shiny with my juices, and smiles. “We’re just getting started, mama. Best hold on.”
And hold on I do. Because Moses makes me come again before he finally stands, and I cling to him for support. My lungs heave like I just put myself through a punishing workout.