Chapter Nine #2
“Yes,” I whispered.
Wallet out, eyes locked on mine, he dropped it to the bed
and his hands went to his belt.
“Yes,” I panted.
The metallic noise of the clip buckle releasing gave me
another quiver. The sound of his zip going down made me start to shiver. The
movement of his arms which meant he was putting his hands to his waistband and
was about to do the reveal made my eyes drop.
His cargos went to his beefy thighs and his massive,
rock-hard cock sprang out from a thick bed of dark hair.
Oh yes, oh yes, yes, yes, yes.
God loved me.
“Hurry,” I begged.
I watched him roll the condom halfway on before my gaze cut
up to his face.
“Hurry!” I snapped.
He fell forward and I almost shouted, Hallelujah!
But he caught himself in a hand beside me, straight arm,
holding himself away from me.
“Mo!” I cried.
His hand went between my legs, two fingers gliding tight
over my clit then driving right inside.
Oh yeah.
I fell fully to my back, closed my eyes, lifted my knees,
and reached to him.
Hard muscle, sleek, hot skin.
Beautiful.
I opened my eyes as he started to stroke. “You need to get
inside me.”
“And you need to be ready, baby,” he said low, his voice
tight.
“I think you can feel I’m ready for you, honey,” I pointed
out.
I wasn’t wet.
I felt it.
I was slippery.
He separated his fingers inside me and dragged them out.
My eyes rolled back into my head and my fingers dug into his
sides.
He withdrew and gently rolled my clit.
I looked at him again, fingertips compulsively clutching his
flesh. “Mo, please.”
“Slow,” he said.
Had he lost his mind?
We’d been waiting a hundred years!
“Not slow,” I replied.
His fingers left me, and I felt why when he guided the head
of his cock to me.
“Oh yeah,” I breathed.
He slid in, stretching me. I took the head and then he
rocked, giving me just that.
I glided my hands to his pecs and held on. “More, Mo. Come
inside.”
He gave me another couple of inches, opening me, filling me,
then no more and he again rocked, giving me only that.
The wide stretch affected my clit, the gentle rub pure,
delicious agony.
“Mo, baby,” I pleaded.
“I’m a lot.”
Through the haze, I focused on him and saw the strain, the
sweat breaking out, the harshness in his face, the dark hunger in his gaze.
I reached up, grasped onto his thick neck, pulled myself up
and stared in his eyes.
“I don’t care, Mo. I want it all.”
He gave me more, not all of him, and again rocked.
“Baby,” I whispered, swinging my feet in so I could dig my
heels into his ass.
God, his ass felt good, his cock felt good, the rest of him
was just hot.
I needed him inside.
“Lottie, you aren’t helping,” he gritted.
“I’m trying to,” I snapped.
“Baby—”
“Mo.”
“Sweetheart.”
I seized his jaw in both hands. “Mo!”
He stared in my eyes, then dropped to his elbow, and with a
powerful surge, I took all of him.
He’d filled me.
I had him.
He was finally all mine.
I arched up into him, the long, low moan from my throat
slinking around the room like a cat as I dug my heels in, wrapped my arms as
far around him as they could get, and I clutched him tight with my pussy.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
And we were off.
He drove into me and I held on.
He moved faster and harder and I held on tighter.
When I started coming, a magnificent occurrence that didn’t
take long, I dug my nails in and called his name.
I got his thumb on my clit.
And I went flying, clawing at his skin, wrapping my legs
around him so I was holding his ass with my calves, moaning his name over and
over like an incantation.
I kept coming and I kept coming and only when the fingers of
both my hands found the back of his neck and head and held on did his thumb go
away.
But he dug his arm under me and clamped it around my waist
to hold me stationary so I could take his thrusts and he didn’t fuck me into
the headboard as his deep, fast, hot rhythm went super-charged and my
powerhouse lost all control.
Oh yeah.
I liked it like that.
Coming down from my orgasm, I caught his eyes drilling into
mine and I felt the rumble in his belly before it grunted out his throat.
His head snapped back, the cords in his neck straining, he
slammed his hips into mine, then ground them there, and his grunt became a
groan that I would swear shook the lamps on my nightstands.
God, he was spectacular when he came.
Breathtaking.
He did not collapse on me when he came down.
Oh no.
Not Mo.
I knew his climax was big, I saw it, felt it, heard it.
But even if he couldn’t possibly be over it, he rolled so he
was on his back, I was on him, and we were still connected.
I rested my cheek on his pec.
He clamped one hand on the side of my neck, one hand on the
cheek of my ass.
It was quite a trip, riding the powerful rises and falls of
his chest as his breath evened out.
It felt like riding a mountain.
I loved every second.
Eventually, his thumb came out to stroke my jaw.
“We’ll go slower next time,” he murmured.
“Okay,” I murmured back, stroking the smooth valley between
pectorals with the backs of my fingers.
“Hawk gave me two days off.”
“I’m calling in sick.”
At first, I didn’t know what was happening. I also didn’t
know what I was hearing.
It took a second to realize the quaking of his big body and
the deep noises that were tumbling low around the room were indications Mo was
chuckling.
It seemed like a very long time since I heard him laugh and
I’d never heard his humor come like that.
But hearing it, I wanted to see it.
So I lifted my head and looked down at him.
Face relaxed, sated, eyes soft and warm and aimed down his
nose at me.
“You haven’t kissed me,” I whispered.
“I’ve totally kissed you,” he whispered back. “Just not your
mouth.”
Oh yeah.
Right.
I smiled at him. “Our first kiss a pussy kiss. I like it.”
His mouth quirked, his eyes dropped to my lips then his arms
went around me, and I was on my back with Mo covering me, his lips on mine, his
tongue gliding inside.
I made a mew, rounded him with my arms, my legs, and sucked
his tongue deeper.
He tasted precisely like I thought Mo would taste and he
kissed like I thought Mo would kiss.
Overwhelmingly amazing.
Yeah.
I’d been right.
Every day, little by little, or bit by bit, I’d be falling
deeper in love with this man.
He ended it by running the tip of his tongue along my lower
lip then asking, “How’s that?”
It was the best first kiss I ever had.
Except the pussy one.
“I liked that too.”
He smiled at me and stroked my cheekbone with the flat of
the nail on his forefinger.
And there was a little bit more.
I had both arms forward, hands pressing into the
headboard, noises forced out of my mouth through my ongoing orgasm with each
thrust I took.
Mo was on his knees behind me.
His thighs were so long, he had to fuck me with his legs
wide, holding me up and spreading me open so I could take him.
This meant I was suspended from mostly nothing but his
driving dick as he fucked me from behind.
I was coming down, how I didn’t know, because each stroke I
took blasted against my clit.
But Mo felt it, didn’t like it, and I knew that when he
reached around and pinched that sensitive bundle of nerves.
I cried out, whimpered, and came hard again.
“Fuck yeah, Lottie,” he growled, those strong hips of his pistoning into me.
Suddenly, he did a dip and roll, and my eyes went back in my
head as my body went into spasm.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” he grunted, put me down, coming down with
me, covering me, and fucking me to his finish with my belly to the bed.
Man, I loved listening to him come.
Though I preferred watching it.
But considering there was a good possibility he’d fucked a
Lottie-sized dent in the bed, I’d take this one as it came.
After he was done, he commenced a slow roll, stroking gently
inside as I felt his lips move from the tip of my shoulder, up, then he buried
his face in my neck.
“Sweet pussy,” he murmured there, sliding his cock in and
staying in. “Sweet little body. Sweet hair. Sweet sex noises. Sweet smell.
Seriously sweet fuck. My sweet Lottie.”
“Don’t say things like that when I can’t kiss you,” I
mumbled into the pillow.
I felt his smile then I felt his tongue exploring the area
behind my ear.
“Don’t do things like that when I need to pass out after
coming fifteen times,” I ordered, but did it still mumbling into the pillow.
He nipped the back of my ear, the big lug, and through the
tremble that caused, asked in it, “Fifteen?”
“I don’t know. You’ve got a mammoth cock. And you’re a
powerhouse. And you fuck like a tank. I lose track of time when you’re fucking
me. And place. I don’t know if we’re still in my bedroom. I’m not even sure
what year it is.”
I felt that feeling I knew I’d come to love, his gentle
laughter, before he slid out, lifted up, rolled me under him, then carefully
covered me again with his bulk, taking weight onto a forearm, using his free
hand to caress my hip.
I had to tip my chin up to catch his contented, handsome
face, but with what I got, I didn’t mind the effort.
“We’re still in your bedroom,” he informed me.
“What year is it?”
“Sweetheart, watching that tight ass of yours while your
even tighter pussy takes my cock, I’ve no fucking clue. But I hope I drilled
you for a decade.”
“I don’t. We can’t make babies if you drilled me for a
decade with a condom on. A decade, my babymaking
years might be behind me.”
That didn’t freak him.
Not at all.
Not my Mo.
He dipped closer, touched his mouth to mine, pulled an inch
away and asked, “How many do you want?”
“Seven thousand, but I’ll take two or three and seven
thousand cats.”
His body and mouth both laughed again, I loved it again,
then he said, “I’m not a cat guy.”
Uh-oh.
“You don’t like cats?”
“Take or leave cats, mostly leave. I’m a dog guy.”
Okay.
This was a problem.
I communicated the enormity of that problem by grabbing both
sides of his face and demanding, “Don’t tell Tex that.”