Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
RACHEL
I could tell Mojave was a little shaken by the conversation.
It wasn’t a done deal yet, I needed to speak to my supervisors about it, but I didn’t think there’d be too much of an issue.
He was a safe and trusted adult in Frankie’s life, he’d be able to keep her in solid routines, he’d shown he could care for her over a period of time while watching her this weekend, and he asked for help when he needed it.
I didn’t think my superiors or even a judge would ignore all that just because he had no blood relationship to Frankie.
Especially because Frankie’s extended family didn’t want anything to do with her.
Her going with Mojave really was for the best. For both of them, I thought.
Mojave might not have said it out loud, but I got the feeling he’d be devastated if I was forced to send Frankie to the city, even for a few months.
And that timeline was only if Frankie’s parents didn’t drag their feet in doing the work to get her back.
Somehow, I thought that might be the case, at least at first.
After the conversation, Mojave returned to sitting with Frankie, and Mel and Prez said their goodbyes. I turned down the lights, hoping the dark environment would help Frankie settle in for the night, and encouraged them both onto the couch to get comfortable while putting on another movie.
Frankie fought sleep, wanting to stay up and watch the movie, but being tucked between the two of us, she didn’t last long and eventually fell asleep with her head resting on Mojave’s shoulder.
I chuckled at the way her mouth hung open, her face smushed against his arm.
It was lucky she wasn’t drooling on him.
Mojave heard my laugh and turned away from the screen to look at me curiously.
I pressed my finger to my lips to stop him from speaking, giving a significant look toward the sleeping girl against him.
He dropped his gaze, and I saw a flicker of a smile cross his face before he shifted to scoop her up instead.
He wasn’t soft about it, no slow movements or pauses if she shifted.
I watched wide eyed as he stood with her in his arms, readjusting her without waking her.
When he noticed me gaping, the smile came back.
Just a ghost of it, but he was coming out of his shell more lately.
“She sleeps heavy,” he explained. “When I moved her to my room when she was staying with me, I accidentally kicked the foot of the bed, stumbled and cursed, and she didn’t even flinch. She’s out cold. Which way is her room?”
Biting back a snicker, I stood and led him to the room I had set out for Frankie. We kept the lights off to not wake her, and Mojave marched into the room, gently laying her in bed like he’d done it a thousand times before.
My heart absolutely melted when he took the time to pull the blankets up to her shoulders and tuck her in properly.
He even put a hand on her head, stroking her hair for a second before stepping back.
He slipped past me in the hallway, his expression neutral like he hadn’t done the sweetest thing in the world by tucking a little girl into bed even if she was too heavy a sleeper to notice the effort.
Since we had to be up early to get Frankie to school, and I had work, we didn’t stay in the living room to finish the movie.
Instead, we both got ready for bed, Mojave using a spare toothbrush I had in my stash of supplies.
This time, he was more alert than he had been the other night, and eyed the sweats more suspiciously when I handed them to him.
“If those belonged to your asshole ex, I’d rather sleep naked.”
“I’m betting you’ll regret that choice in the morning when Frankie bursts into the room,” I teased.
He made a face, but I knew he saw my point when he snatched the sweats away and started stripping to change.
Changing in the closet was a habit after years of comments from Scott. It was easier to avoid those comments if he couldn’t walk in. But when I started to close the door, Mojave stopped me, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“Changing?” I replied, frowning at him.
He raised one eyebrow at me. “I’ve seen all of you before. Why are you hiding?”
My face flushed and when I didn’t answer him, his expression flattened. “This is because of that asshole, isn’t it?”
I lifted a shoulder uneasily. “It wasn’t just him. My parents have had opinions about my weight for years. You’re the first person who ever seemed unbothered by it.”
Making an irritated sound, he moved around the bed to stand in front of me, grabbing my hand and pressing it against the outline of his erection. “Just the idea of you getting undressed in front of me gets me hard. I’m not ‘unbothered’ by it. I’m turned on by it. Your body is sexy as hell.”
His blunt explanation made me gasp, but he sealed the sentiment with a kiss so hot, it scorched me to my toes, and started stripping my clothes for me without a word. I couldn’t stop myself from giving in to him. At least not until I ran my fingers through his hair and he flinched away from me.
“Ah, fuck,” he grumbled, more annoyed than in pain. Still, I felt bad.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. We shouldn’t be doing this right now. You’re supposed to be resting, and–”
“I’m fine,” he argued, tightening his grip to keep me against him. The only clothing he’d yet to divest me of was my panties and bra and from the way his hands kept wandering, he wanted to remedy that soon. I bit back the urge to give into him, shaking my head.
“You were hurt, Mojave. You have a concussion. Now is not the time too– Ah!” He decided to distract me by dipping and wrapping his hands around my thighs, yanking me off my feet.
He wasn’t a thickly muscled man, but he didn’t even grunt from the effort, spinning on his heel and dropping us both onto the bed.
He might’ve succeeded in distracting me with that move if the jostling from the fall didn’t make him wince in response.
“Mojave,” I chided, pushing at his shoulder and nudging him onto his back. “You need rest, not… that. You’re hurt.”
He shook his head, still arguing despite the obvious pain he was in. “I don’t feel pain when you’re touching me. I’m fine.”
God, he was a smooth talker, and I didn’t even think he was trying to be. He just knew what to say to make me melt.
I wasn’t going to give in to him, I valued his health over a night of fun, but after I slipped out of bed to get changed and came back, seeing the disgruntled and unhappy look on his face made me waver. I bit my lip to hide my laugh. He was nearly pouting with that expression on his face.
Pursing my lips, I considered my options. My knowledge of concussion care was pretty basic, but I knew high energy activity wouldn’t help. If we wanted to fool around, it’d need to be something that wouldn’t have him moving around much or get his heart pumping too much.
A wicked idea flitted through my head and I had to work to keep a grin off my face as I shut off the light and headed for the bed.
Mojave hadn’t put a blanket on, seeming comfortable with the cool temperature in the room from the AC, so there was nothing hindering me when I climbed into bed on top of him instead of getting in on my own side.
His hands came up automatically to rest on my hips, and I could hear the confusion in his voice through the darkness as he asked, “Rachel?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you–” He sucked in a sharp breath when I pulled the sweats down to his thighs, a hand reaching out to catch mine. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve had a rough day. I’m making you feel better,” I commented.
Then, before he could argue, I lowered my head and licked a trail up the length of his erection.
A string of curses flew out of his mouth when I swirled my tongue around the head, and I had to stop to shush him, my shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Frankie might be a heavy sleeper, but let’s not test just how heavy. You have to stay quiet.”
With my eyes mostly adjusted to the darkness, I saw him bite his fist, making more of an effort to stay quiet when I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth.
I bobbed my head slowly, warming up to the task, and listened to the choked grunts and groans trying to escape through Mojave’s tenuous control.
I’d never realized just how arousing it’d be to hear a man lose control.
Scott liked to talk, but his dirty talk was more cringy than arousing and I’d always tuned him out and focused on my own orgasm since it wasn’t guaranteed I’d get one with him.
Listening to Mojave was having the unintended side effect of drenching my panties and making me wish we could do more than just this.
Whether he was thinking the same thing or his control slipped, he reached for me, using a grip on my arm to pull me off him and drag me up his body.
Our tongues tangled in a hot glide, making me shiver, but when Mojave’s hands started tugging on my clothes, I pulled away, forgetting for a moment that it was too dark to see when I shook my head.
“We shouldn’t. You’re hurt and–”
“So ride me,” he begged. “I swear I won’t move.
Please, Rachel. I need–” He dragged me down for another kiss, like he was trying to explain without words what he needed.
It took a few seconds to realize what. He wasn’t just asking for sex.
He was clinging to me, trying to eliminate the space between us, and his fingers dug into my skin like it still wasn’t close enough.
I didn’t think it was just sex he was asking for. He wanted me closer.
I gave in with a moan. Knowing he didn’t just want to get off, that he wanted to feel me against him and actually connect was a heady thought.
When I slipped off my shirt, he groaned and I had to shush him again while fighting back a smile.
His hands immediately swept over my body, touching every inch of my skin almost reverently.
I lost myself in it a little until he tried to sit up and I remembered his injury.
Putting a hand against his chest, I forced him to lay back down. “You’re supposed to be resting. Don’t move.”
He let out a frustrated growl that tapered into a moan when I shimmied out of my pajama pants and underwear, straddling his hips and looming over him with my hands on either side of his head.
“Fuck, I might have a thing for your hair,” he commented as it trailed over his chest. I snickered, pressing kisses down his chest, and helped him the rest of the way out of the sweats, letting my hair trail over him as I went.
When I came back up, his hand sank into the strands, gently tugging without causing pain.
“Considering your hair is nearly as long as mine, I’m not sure why,” I commented, leaning to pull a condom out of the bedside drawer.
When I handed it to Mojave, he released me, focusing on the task.
Then it was my turn to touch his hair, careful to avoid any tugging since I knew the back of his head still hurt.
It was soft, though, and slid through my fingers like silk.
Not something I expected from a guy who looked more scruffy than put together most days and always looked a little tired.
I couldn’t be bothered to do more than put my hair in a bun when I was tired.
Mojave wasn’t interested in explaining, gripping my hip and guiding me over him after the condom was rolled on. We both muffled groans as I sank onto his length, and I felt his fingers tighten when he was fully inside.
Putting a hand against the center of his chest, I reminded him, “Don’t move. Let me do the work. If you get too worked up, you’ll make your headache worse.”
“What headache?” he croaked, then groaned when I lifted up and sank back down, taking him a little faster. “Fuck.”
He could pretend all he wanted, but I wasn’t willing to let him get hurt just for an orgasm.
With that in mind, I planted my hands on his chest to keep him where he was and moved my hips in more of a grinding roll than a fast bounce.
I wanted to keep my movements as gentle as I could to not jostle him, but it had the unintended side effect of hitting every single sensitive spot with each grind.
I moaned loudly, forgetting for a moment to muffle myself, and Mojave’s hips bucked at the sound, his breath picking up as he fought to not move and let me have control.
The more pleasure I felt, the more I moved, one hand shifting to rest against the headboard both for leverage and to keep us away from it so Mojave wouldn’t get hurt.
Mojave shifted restlessly, gasping and groaning with each rock of my hips, and when he gave an abortive thrust, I cried out in surprise, slamming my hips down to seek out the feeling again.
“Oh, fuck, Rachel,” Mojave groaned, his voice tight with restraint.
I moaned in agreement, tipping my hips in an attempt to find that angle again. I hadn’t wanted Mojave to move, but his hips jerked again when I clenched at a particularly good angle, and we started moving in tandem, both of us picking up the pace as we raced towards release.
It was when Mojave’s hand wrapped around the back of my neck, dragging me down for a frenzied kiss, that I shattered.
My moans were muffled against his lips as I rocked my hips, riding out the waves of my release until Mojave’s body stiffened and I felt his cock kick inside me as he came with a deep groan of satisfaction.
Collapsing on top of him, I fought for breath, my whole body throbbing with aftershocks of pleasure. When I finally caught my breath and levered myself off of Mojave, he tried to sit up with me and I felt him flinch when he sat up too fast.
“I was worried it’d be too much,” I commented, reaching to touch his cheek and feel the grimace in his expression as he shifted to sit beside me on the edge of the bed. Thankfully, the expression disappeared in a flash and he kissed the palm of my hand to reassure me.
“With you? Fucking worth it.”