Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
“Good choice,” he replied.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Axl. One of Hawk’s men. Buddy of Mo’s.”
I lowered my weapon, now on the subject that interested me. “Where’s Mo?”
He turned fully my way and leaned a slim hip against the counter. “Caught the guy. Mo’s with Hawk. He told me to tell you if you woke up before he got back that he’d be back as soon as he could.”
I bet he would.
But…
They got him.
Ohmigod, they got him.
Instead of doing a round-off followed by an arms-up-in-the-air, heels-kicked-back jump, I walked to my coffee table and put the hairspray down.
When I gave my attention back to Axl, I saw I hadn’t lost his.
“Mind if I have some coffee?” he asked.
“Help yourself,” I answered, wandering toward the kitchen and stopping. “Pods in the cupboard above the machine.”
He reached to the cupboard above the machine.
“Who was he?” I asked.
“Semi-regular. Total whackjob,” he muttered, putting the bowl of pods on the counter and hitting the button on top, making it blink green.
Then he turned again toward me.
Whoa.
Clear, ice-blue eyes.
Nice.
“He comes to the club on occasion,” he went on. “And—”
He cut himself off as he tensed, straightened and then used those long legs of his to move toward me, by me then stop four feet beyond me just as I heard the front door slam, heavy footfalls…
I stepped to the side so I could see past Axl.
Then I stopped dead.
Because Mo caught sight of me and he stopped dead one foot into the living room.
My panties grew wet and my mind went into a trance as Mo again very successfully communicated non-verbally.
This time he was communicating the wait was over.
And what was to come next was going to be worth that wait.
“Go,” he grunted.
“Gotcha,” Axl replied, humor dripping off that word. “Nice to meet you, Lottie,” he said as he strolled across the room.
I stared at Mo and didn’t say a word.
I’d apologize for being rude later.
Vaguely, I heard the front door open.
Vaguely, I heard the front door close.
I forced myself to speak.
“They got him?”
“They got him.”
We stared at each other.
We stared at each other longer.
Then in a sudden burst of movement, I raced toward him.
I also raced right by him so I could sprint up the stairs.
All those nights with Mo on my couch wishing he was somewhere else, this was happening in my bed.
I heard the thunderous falls of Mo’s boots hitting the steps behind me and I knew by their tempo that he was skipping some.
And my panties got wetter.
I ran into my room, twirled to face the door, the voluminous folds of my smock nightie flying out, exposing panty I was sure, and I saw Mo enter the room.
He stopped advancing but not moving. However, he moved only to take his gun with holster off his belt and toss it to the foot of the bed.
I started panting.
We stared at each other again.
My body felt so hot, I was certain I was about to burst into flame.
He put his fingers to his light gray compression shirt, pulled it up and it was gone, exposing the enormous wall of his chest, his bulbous pecs, the wide sweep of his shoulders, his bulging biceps, his demarcated abs and the thick, dark trail of hair that circled his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his black cargos.
Oh God.
I was gonna pass out.
“Mo,” I whispered.
At that, he moved.
In two great steps, he was on me.
He hooked me with one arm at my waist and I was up, literally flying through the air to land with a couple of bounces on my back in my bed.
Oh God.
I was gonna come.
I got up on both elbows and saw him standing at the foot of the bed, his upper body rising and falling in a huge, smooth, but fast and deep rhythm.
He was getting control.
I needed to get control.
The problem was, certain areas of my body were begging me to get up on my feet, use the mattress as a springboard and land on him.
He bent at the waist, all the way, so all I had was a view of his back which might have been good except he was clearly taking off his boots and that meant he was using his hands which meant the muscles in his back and shoulders were moving.
And I was gonna come again.
“Mo,” I whimpered.
Fast as a lash, he was up, his hands on my ankles, pulling my legs apart.
Lord, he had to stop doing shit like that.
“Baby,” I breathed.
Then he went in, one knee to the bed, the other. Fluidly ducking his head down and moving forward like he was diving deep in a body of water, his head disappeared under the ruffle and his mouth was on me over my panties.
My fingers curled into the bedclothes and my head fell back as I spread my legs wider, feeling his teeth scraping at the material, at me.