“Good God. The government should force you to register your tongue as a lethal weapon, because you damn near slayed me again.”
His grin couldn’t get any bigger, but his cock bounces between us like it’s dead set on growing another inch at the praise—and it’s already a monster. I reach down to jack him and return the favor, but he shakes his head.
“Later. Right now, I’m fucking you. And I apologize in advance. Slow and sweet is gonna have to be round three.”
I can’t stop laughing, and I realize sex with Moses is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time. Maybe ever.
“Give it to me any way you want, Moby. I’m ready.”
He lifts me up as he turns us so my back is against the wall once more. “Legs around my waist.”
When I comply, he swipes a kiss across my mouth, and I taste myself on his lips. Wetness gushes between my legs, soaking his cock.
“Put my cock in that tight, little cunt, woman. I want to fuck.”
The guttural command turns me on more than I knew was possible. I’m not about taking orders, but Moses’s make me hotter and needier.
I grip his cock, giving it a hard stroke because I can’t resist. He releases a harsh breath.
“Don’t tease me, mama. I need that pussy. Bad. I’m a man on the edge.”
I line his shaft up with my entrance and meet his gaze. “Then you’d best take what you need.”
Instead of slamming home, he lowers me inch by inch, fucking himself with my body, and it might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. The heavy muscles of his shoulders bunch and flex as he lifts me up and brings me down. Over and over, until I can’t watch anymore, because my head is thrashing from side to side as pleasure threatens to drown me.
The bathroom echoes with our screams as we both come, and the only thought left in my head is . . . Moses is mine, and I’m not letting him go. Never again.
Fifty-Four
Magnolia
When my cell phone rings the next morning, I’m having the best dream and don’t want to wake up. But I do, because the stupid thing is loud as hell.
“Why did I turn my ringer on?” I murmur, reaching for the nightstand. It’s at this same moment that I realize I wasn’t dreaming. Moses is wrapped around me like a kudzu vine, and the heat I was curling into while I was asleep is all from him.
“What’s going on?” he mumbles with a sleep-roughened voice.
“Sorry. I didn’t know my phone was on. I’ll shut it off.” I grab it off the nightstand, intending to decline the call, no matter who it is, but I see Norma’s name on the display. She doesn’t usually call unless it’s important. “Shit. I’d better get this.”
“Okay, mama. You do that.” He yawns and rolls to his back, throwing one arm over his head.
I slip out from under the covers and tap the screen. “Hey, Norma. What’s up?”
“I hope I didn’t wake you. I was trying to wait to call, but . . .”
“But what? What’s wrong? Bernie okay?”
At the concern in my voice, Moses opens his eyes and sits up.
“I don’t know. She keeps knocking things over when she reaches for them, like they aren’t where she thinks they are, and it’s freaking me out. We’re on her third glass this morning already, and she swears she’s fine and refuses to go to a doctor.”
“What do you think it could be?” I ask. Hell, for all I know, Bernadette could just be bored and winding Norma up for entertainment.
“I don’t know. I keep watching for signs of a stroke, because that’s all I can think of.”
When she says stroke, a heavy knot forms in my gut. “Shit. Okay. I’ll be right there. We can bully her into going to the hospital together.”
She sighs. “Thank you, Mags. You know how she is. She’ll kill me if I call an ambulance without her say-so.”
“Don’t you worry, Norma. She can kill me instead.”
When I hang up and turn around, Moses is already out of bed and reaching for his clothes.
“Where we heading?” he asks as he pulls on a pair of shorts.
Could this man be any more perfect?
It takes me a second to remember he asked me a question, and that I’m standing here naked while he’s already half-dressed.
“My great-aunt’s house. That was Norma. She used to be Bernie’s maid. Now I pay her to take care of the old bat, because she’s one of the few people who can handle her battle-ax attitude.”
He tosses a gray T-shirt over his head and tugs it down over his chest and stomach. “She okay?”
“I don’t know. Norma thinks she might be having a stroke. Even if she is, Bernie will never admit it.”
I go to the drawer and pull out a bra and underwear, and then grab a simple dress from the closet. We’re both fully clothed and ready to leave in under ten minutes.
“This the great-aunt that kicked you out when you were sixteen?” he asks as we slide into the Rolls.
“Yeah. That’s Bernie, all right. She, unlike your grand-mère, wasn’t thrilled to be raising someone else’s kid. My mom was a whore, and Bernie told me I’d end up just like her. Guess I proved her right. She’s never let me live it down.”
“Hey,” Moses says, grabbing my hand across the center console. “That’s the last time I hear you say something sorry like that about yourself. Hear me?”
There’s a flutter in my stomach, and I’m so damn thankful he came back.
“I hear you. But you’d best brace yourself. Bernie is . . . well, she’s not a cheerful woman, and I don’t think she’s ever been accused of being remotely friendly. I, however, get great delight from pissing her off. So . . . yeah. Do what you will with that.”
He smiles and squeezes my hand. “It’ll be fine. I can handle a little old lady.”
I laugh, knowing better. “Just so you know. She’s gonna hate your fucking guts.”
The laughter that fills the car is borderline deafening. Moses shoots me a grin. “Challenge accepted.”
Fifty-Five
Moses
The well-kept white row house with black shutters where Magnolia’s great-aunt lives is in a decent neighborhood. Thanks to Trey’s skills, I’m aware Magnolia pays for it and any of her great-aunt’s upkeep that isn’t covered by the woman’s Social Security check.
That says something about Magnolia, that she takes care of the old woman, even when her great-aunt didn’t take care of her.
I’m already predisposed to dislike the woman for throwing Magnolia out when she was still a kid, but I’ll keep that to myself and do everything I can to charm her. Not only because I’m sure Magnolia will get a kick out of it, but because my grand-mère was a big fan of killing people with kindness. While I’m better at just plain killing people, I’m willing to go the extra mile for my woman.
I park, and she climbs out of the car and opens the wrought-iron gate in the fence blocking off the tiny patch of yard from the sidewalk. We walk up hand in hand, and I give her a squeeze before she leads me up the stairs to the front door.