Chapter Nine #3
“I know about Tex’s cats.” He turned his head and kissed my
palm (and there it was, a little bit more). He came back to me. “Swear to
Christ, won’t mention the cats.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“Work too much to have a dog.”
That’d end since I could take care of it when we got one (or
two, or four).
Though he’d also have to put up with a cat (or two, or
four).
“Axl seemed nice,” I noted.
“Axl’s a good guy.”
“He says you two are buds.”
“We are. Like I said, Axl’s a good guy.”
“Do you have a lot of buds?”
“Hawk’s crew. Some old high school friends I keep in touch
with. My family.”
I tilted my head on the pillow. “Your family?”
“Mom in Denver, and four sisters.”
Four?
“You have four sisters?” I queried.
“Yup.”
“You the oldest?”
“Youngest.”
I stared up at him.
Then I asked, “You’re the youngest with four older sisters?”
“Yup.”
“Ohmigod.”
This seemed impossible.
No man his size was the littlest or youngest of anything.
“All but one is married,” he shared. “All but that one have
kids. I’ve got five nieces and nephews.”
I loved this.
I loved it like crazy.
And not just the fact that I could freely ask him questions
about his life, his friends, his family, and not try to keep things distant and
professional.
But that he had a big family.
I loved family.
“Are they named Norwegian names?” I asked.
“Signe, Marte, Lene, Trine, in order, oldest to youngest.”
That was a yes.
“And you’re gonna meet them, soon
as that can be arranged,” he announced.
I started to smile.
Then something occurred to me and I didn’t smile.
“Are they gonna have a problem
with me being a stripper?”
A shadow crossed his face, which meant a shadow shrouded my
heart.
But I would learn I shouldn’t underestimate Mo, or his
feelings for me, and I’d learn it quick.
Like right then.
Because Mo rolled us both to our sides, gathered me close,
but kept a lock on my eyes.
“You know, baby,” he said gently, “think the problem with
what you do is with you.”
Hunh?
“I don’t have a problem with it,” I pointed out the obvious.
“First place you go, first question you ask, is if someone
has issues.”
It wasn’t the first.
But I saw his point.
“That’s so I can ascertain if they have issues so I won’t
waste time or emotion on someone who’s an asshole.”
He looked dubious. “You sure?”
“Mo, honey,” I said quietly, “can you imagine the shit I’ve
come up against because of my job?”
The dubiousness fled, understanding replaced it, and he
nodded. “I can.”
We were on rocky ground here and I didn’t want to be on
rocky ground.
Not now.
Not when the wait was finally over and we were getting to
the good stuff.
But maybe it was good to at least start the discussion, so
it didn’t get buried under all the goodness. Both of us trying to ignore it was
there. Then it became harder to bring it up, but it was between us and needed
to be dealt with, and since we didn’t deal with it, it grew out of control and
became a problem.
This was a very adult thought.
I still didn’t want to broach it and this demonstrated why I
wasn’t a big fan of being an adult.
But I was a big fan of Mo’s, so I had to be an
adult.
Damn it.
“And we need to—” I began.
“Babe, I don’t like you stripping,” he announced.
Shit.
Fortunately, Mo wasn’t done.
“But I also wouldn’t like you being a journalist based in
Syria. My job isn’t often dangerous, but it is far from always safe. If you had
a problem with it, we’d talk about it, but it would definitely drive a wedge if
you put your foot down about it. It isn’t what it is. It’s who I am and if you
asked me to stop doing it, it’d be you asking me to stop being who I am. I’ll
eventually have to get out of the field because this kind of job has a shelf
life and I won’t be as strong and quick as I need to be. What you do isn’t the
same, but it is in some regards. I like you and I’ve had enough experience with
women to know I won’t like every single thing about you. But the same goes for
knowing that what I like, I like a lot so I’m willing to work at it and find
ways to compromise with the rest.”
Okay, that right there wasn’t a little bit.
It was a huge truckload.
“I see you’ve been thinking about this,” I noted.
“On the ride back to you. I knew if I started things with
us, I had to be all in.” He pulled me closer. “I’m all in, Lottie.”
Yeah.
That was a huge truckload.
He gave me that. He gave me a kiss.
And when he pulled away, I whispered, “Thanks, Mo.”
That was when he gave me a smile and pulled fully away,
exiting the bed.
I wanted to get into his “experience with women” (and how
they’d fucked him up) but I was learning this was how Mo was.
He had to get rid of the condom and he didn’t make that
announcement or a production of it.
He slipped out of the bed, took care of it, and came back.
I was hoping he’d brought a bunch of them because I decided,
before we got into his “experience with women,” I’d give him more experience
with this woman because I had a hankering to ride my mountain of man.
We could talk about the bitches in his life after I got
myself in the mood not to be pissed as shit about whatever it was.
In other words, after I had another fifteen orgasms.
Mo was walking back into the room, and I was watching him
walk back in, precisely his hips, not covered in cargos, and that huge dick,
which was impressive even soft, and how I’d decided just then to suck it before
I rode it, when he stopped dead and his head jerked to the side.
This was right before we heard a pounding on the door and a
faraway, but still loud bellow of, “Lottie! Open this goddamned door!”
I felt my face pale as I watched Mo look back my way.
“Oh shit,” I whispered.
Then I finished.
“Tex.”