“Don’t care. I’m not about to finish before I’ve gotten you off even once. My turn, mama.” I lift her off me and roll over, pinning her to the mattress.
“But—”
“Shhh.” I strip her dress off and worship every patch of smooth skin I uncover, licking and sucking and kissing. “Like silk,” I tell her, glancing up to see her golden-brown eyes going hazy.
“You’re a tease.”
“I’m just getting started.” I work my way down her belly, pressing a kiss to the side of the bandage where her stitches are. “These okay?”
She nods and runs her fingers over my cheek. “Can’t even feel them.”
“Good. Bet you’ll be able to feel this, though.” I cup her center with my hand. “This is my cunt. Mine to eat. Mine to fuck. Mine to make come.”
She rocks into my palm. “Then you’d better show it who’s boss. Remind me who owns it.”
A growl tears from my throat. “Damn right that’s what I’m going to do, and you’re gonna fucking scream.”
“Prove it.”
With that challenge thrown down, I press my mouth against the strip of lace separating that sweet, sweet pussy from my lips.
“I love the way you taste. Makes me fucking hard every time I think about how hot and juicy this tight little cunt is. And, fuck, I think about it a lot.”
Magnolia releases a moan of approval as I drag my teeth across her. “Fuck, I love your dirty mouth.”
Flicking the lace aside, I swipe my tongue up the slit, catching her slickness and groaning at the taste. “You like my dirty mouth on this sweet pussy. That’s for damn sure.”
Before she can reply, I devour her, tasting every sweet and tangy inch of her cunt. Teasing her clit until every muscle in her body is tight and begging to come.
Magnolia’s hand brackets the back of my head, pulling me harder against her center, and I lash her clit hard with my tongue as I push a finger inside.
Her inner muscles clamp down, damn near strangling it as she yells, “Moses!”
Five
Magnolia
I don’t mean to scream his name, but I can’t hold back.
The orgasm hits me like a runaway train, and tremors rip through my entire body. The pleasure is so powerful that one hand digs into the bedding as I try to hold on. My other hand anchors me to Moses, and he doesn’t stop. Again and again, he brings me to the edge and pushes me over until I’m nothing but thrashing limbs and sensation.
My lungs heave as he finally lifts his head from between my legs. With my sex-fogged vision, I can make out his lips slick with my juices.
The man looks like he just feasted and is still hungry for more. More of me. The intensity of his gaze lights me on fire. It’s need and want and worship all wrapped up into one, and everything I need in this world is written on his face.
One lie isn’t shit compared to every action that has shown me Moses’s character, including that look in his eyes. This man might have come back to fuck me, but he didn’t come back to fuck me over. That’s not who Moses is. That’s not who he’s ever been to me.
“I need you,” I tell him, spreading my legs wider.
He climbs my body, takes my lips, and I taste myself as he lines up the head of that perfect dick against my entrance. And when he slides home, everything I need becomes clear in his intentions.
He belongs to me.
I belong to him.
That’s just the way it’s gotta be.
Afterward, I lie sated in bed with Moses’s big body wound around me.
God, I missed this.
Given my former line of work, moments like these were a rarity. I didn’t have sex for fun because it had always been a business transaction.
But with Moses . . . sex had been different from the beginning. There was nothing businesslike about it. Those two weeks I spent with him taught me I could have sex for the sole pleasure of it. I’d never known before then.
With that melancholy thought dragging down my postcoital bliss, I roll closer, soaking up the heat radiating off him like a furnace.
I survey his face, the deep golden tan of his skin, and see lines around his eyes he didn’t have back then. He wasn’t a boy all those years ago—no, he was a man already—but now, the miles and wisdom he’s accumulated in the last decade and a half are etched on him.
Similar to the way his initials have always been carved in the stone wall around my heart. M.B.G.
Nevertheless, I’m sure he notices the signs of aging on my face too, despite how much time and money I spend trying to beat them back. I should probably welcome them with open arms, considering there were plenty of days when I wasn’t sure I’d make it to thirty-five.
I wonder what would have happened if things had worked out differently between us. If we’d stayed together instead of life pulling us in different directions. Would we have made it this long?
Who knows?
Then again, I believe enough in fate that it doesn’t matter. Things work out the way they’re meant to be. There’s no point in second-guessing God’s plan, and all that.
But I do know one thing. I’m not letting him go again. Because I’ve fucking missed him.
“This mean I’m forgiven?” Moses asks, smoothing a wild lock of hair away from my face.
“You don’t even need to ask, Moby.”
He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe me.
“As soon as I found out you weren’t hiding a wife and kids—which, by the way, I would’ve killed you for and let Mount dispose of your body—I honestly didn’t care what you’d lied about.”
The corners of his mouth curve up at my statement. “You’re a fierce woman, you know that?”
“Never had much of a choice. I became the woman I had to be in order to survive, and then . . . thrive. At least, as much as I could.”
“You’ve done a hell of a job,” he says softly, tightening his arm to pull me in closer to his body. “And thank you for your grace. I should’ve told you everything sooner, but I was too caught up in making you mine first.”
“Well, you’ve got me now. Don’t you dare fuck it up.”
At this, his face lights up with a wide smile. “You’re fucking perfect for me, Magnolia Marie Maison. I spent years wondering if I’d made it all up. How it was between us. How you were.”
“And?” I ask, liking the warmth blooming in my chest at the idea of him spending years thinking about me. Because I did the same, despite my every attempt to block out his memory.
He covers my mouth with his, pressing kisses to my lips as he murmurs, “It’s even better. Because we’re both older, wiser, and more comfortable with ourselves. There’s something about it I didn’t expect. It makes it all feel even more . . . real, I guess.”
I know exactly what he’s saying. “I get you.” His stomach growls, and this time, I laugh. “Someone worked up an appetite.”
“Keeping you satisfied is gonna cut down on the cardio I need, that’s for damn sure.”
He drops his head back on the pillow, and I take a moment to appreciate the sculpted muscles of his body.