Quiet Man

by Kristen Ashley

  “You awake?” she mumbled.

  “Yeah, baby.” He gathered her closer again. “Just go back to sleep.”

  She didn’t go back to sleep.

  She nuzzled his chest with her face and his cock took notice.

  He was about to repeat she should go to sleep, but she tipped her head back and touched her tongue to the indent at the base of his collarbone.

  His cock definitely took notice of that.

  “Babe—”

  “Shh,” she hushed, lifting her hands to his shoulders and pushing him to his back as her mouth moved on him and her body followed his.

  “Lottie, you don’t have to—” he started, curling his fingers around her waist.

  “Quiet,” she whispered, her lips trailing down to his nipple.

  Before he could protest again, her mouth covered it and she drew in, light and sweet.

  Mo shut up.

  Lottie didn’t talk. Her mouth was busy. And she used it to take her time exploring his chest, his stomach, so by the time she got down between his legs, he was hard as a rock and aching.

  She pulled the waistband of his shorts down so it cupped his balls, and he couldn’t bite back the groan.

  He also couldn’t stop himself from coming up on his elbows to watch her through the shadows.

  Mo felt the tip of her tongue trace the underside of his cock from root all the way to the rim of the head, where she stopped and tickled him there, back and forth.

  Fucking fuck.

  He opened his legs, this drawing the waistband tighter against his balls, and that was magnificent.

  She fell through and positioned.

  Her hand gripped him at the base, lifting him off his stomach as her tongue traced up to the head and then she took him deep, gliding a tight fist up the length she couldn’t swallow.

  And that was spectacular.

  Mo’s head fell back and another groan rolled up his throat and out his lips.

  Sweet Lottie, he should have known she’d have a sweet mouth.

  She blew him. She took her time. She did it right. And when she’d worked him up so much, he beaded for her, she dragged her tongue across the head to take in that pearl and then lifted up.

  Christ.

  She dropped to the side, her hip landing on his inner thigh, and she dragged her panties down her legs, doing this quick.

  She repositioned straddling him, and honest to fuck, it took all Mo had to put his hands to her thighs instead of one to his cock and one to her ass to drive her down on him.

  She then reached long to the nightstand, where he’d stashed his wallet when her sister and mother were there.

  “Let me do it,” he said, his voice alien to him, coarse and thick.

  “I got it, honey,” she whispered, tossing the wallet back to the nightstand.

  And she did.

  She took her time. She did it right. And by the time she got a goddamned condom on him, she had him so wound up, he nearly blew right into it.

  But he held.

  And he held through her positioning him so she could take him.

  And he held when he caught on her sleek warmth.

  And he held when she slowly settled in, taking him deep.

  But he had no idea how he did that since she whipped off her nightie while she did it.

  The silhouette of her sweet little body and perfect tits nearly undid him.

  But it was Lottie who was in control of the unravelling.

  She rode him, slow and tortuous, so much of both, he needed to beg her to go faster.

  But he didn’t say a word.

  She drew his hand from her thigh to between her legs and he thumbed her clit.

  After that, she rode him faster.

  Fuck yeah.

  When she fell forward to plant her hands on his pecs to ride him tough, Mo shifted his other hand around to her ass, clamped hard, the tips of his fingers pressing into the sensitive skin at the crease, and she made a sexy noise he felt sear through his balls and started bouncing.

  That’s what he needed.

  Mo encouraged her by squeezing her ass, rolling her clit and bucking up inside her.

  He heard her breaths come short but fast, blending with his coming rough and deep.

  Suddenly, one of her hands went up to grip the side of his neck, the thumb on her other hand dragged hard across his nipple, his balls drew tight, and he clenched his teeth in an effort not to come.

  “Mo,” she breathed, and shot back, arching deep and riding untamed, bouncing with abandon on his dick.

  Thank…

  Fuck.

  He clamped both hands on her ass, forcing her rhythm faster and harder, and thrust up into her as his cock exploded, his balls emptied, so did his mind. Everything that was him about his dick and his Lottie, and he was still coming when she collapsed on top of him, her body lax, her hips moving as he kept driving her down on his still shooting cock.

  Eventually Mo settled.

  Lottie was already spent.

  They lay there, connected and silent, and caught their breath.

  Finally, she turned her head and kissed the valley of his pecs.

  Mo moved so he could wrap his arms around her. And there was so little of her, his arms so long, his fingers could grip his own flesh.

  His sweet little Lottie.

  “How you doin’?” he murmured, his voice still thick.

  “Exceptional,” she replied, shifting to rest her cheek on him again.

  “Sweet mouth,” he complimented.

  “Thanks, babe,” she murmured, but he felt that cheek on him move with her smile.

  “You didn’t kiss me either,” he noted.

  He felt her body move with a quiet laugh before she said, “Yes, I did. Lots of tongue.”

  There absolutely was lots of tongue.

  Mo joined in her laughter before he pulled her off his softening dick and rolled her to her side.

  He kissed the hair on top of her head and got out of the bed.

  He adjusted his shorts and went to the bathroom, got rid of the rubber, grabbed one of Lottie’s thick, cream washcloths to wipe down his cock, rinsed the cloth out, washed his hands and went back to her.

  Face to face, he pulled her close then yanked the covers back over them.

  “Now go back to sleep,” he ordered.

  She pressed closer and asked, “Is it nightmares?”

  Fuck.

  He didn’t want to get into this with her.

  This was one of the things that drove them away.

  “No.”

  She didn’t utter a follow-up question.

  But for some reason, his mouth moved.

  “Conditioned myself to wake up before they happen.”

  “Okay,” she said softly.

  “I don’t go back to sleep ’cause…”

  He didn’t finish.

  She still said, “Yeah.”

  She knew why.

  If he went back to sleep, the nightmares would come.

  She left it there.

  Or she left that there.

  “The other women—?”

  It didn’t take her long to deduce that.

  “Not big fans of the nightmares or me getting up at two or three in the morning.”

  Her frame got tight.

  “Lottie, it’s okay,” he assured her.

  “It really isn’t,” she replied.

  “It is because I’m not with them, I’m with you.”

  He heard her head move on the sheet and he looked down at the shadow of her face in the dark.

  “This is true. It’s still not okay. Didn’t they talk to you about it?”

  “Yeah. The rigmarole. Find a way to sort it out. VA. Pills. Groups.”

  “And?”

  “The VA is a clusterfuck. Pills slow me up and I cannot be slow and do my job. And I got a group.”

  The pitch of her voice was higher with her surprise when she asked, “You’re in a group?”

&nbs
p; “It consists of Axl, Mag, Auggie and Boone. Sometimes, shit goes down with one of us, or one of us sees the other’s got somethin’ up, we hit someone’s crib, have a few beers, talk it out.”

  “Axl, I know. Mag, Auggie and Boone?”

  “More of Hawk’s men, my boys.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mag’s my roommate.”

  More surprise. “You have a roommate?”

  “Tammy took off, he was looking for a place. Moved in.”

  “Right.”

  “Good guy,” he muttered.

  “I’d hope you wouldn’t move an asshole in with you.”

  Mo grinned at her.

  “What kind of name is ‘Mag?’” she asked.

  “Short for Magnusson, his last name.”

  “Is his first name Kourtney?”

  He started laughing again, and through it, said, “No. It’s Daniel.”

  “Speaking of Daniel. Boone, last or first?”

  Mo kept laughing. “First. Last name Sadler. And before you ask, Auggie is Augustus Hero. And I’ll confirm, his last name is actually Hero. He gets the most shit. He says it’s Greek and since most women treat him like he’s a god, I don’t figure he’s lying. Axl is Axl Pantera.”

  “I was pretty sure Axl was a god,” she told him. “So if Auggie is a god, then I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Axl’s a cat.”

  “As in tom?”

  “Exactly.”

  That made Lottie laugh.

  He pulled her closer so he could feel it better.

  Lottie cuddled in and fell silent.

  When she said no more for a while, he again urged, “Now go back to sleep.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “Hold you for a while. Then I might get up and hit the gym. But I’ll come back, probably before you get up again.”

  “Okay.”

  He waited for more, but that was all she said.

  He felt her body relax and he knew when she fell asleep.

  It was then he decided he’d make sure it was deep, less chance to disturb her when she woke up.

  And anyway, he was getting off on being right there, with her, after fucking, chatting and laughing.

  So he was good where he was.

  * * * *

  Mo woke again after a hand cracked his ass.

  “Get up, sleepyhead. I’m making breakfast.”

  He tracked Lottie with his eyes as she rounded the bed and stopped on the other side, staring down at him.

  “You could be lazy, but Smithie’s given me the rest of the week off and you have to go back to work tomorrow so I have a weeks’ worth of getting to know my mound of hunkalicious boyfriend to cram into a day so there are things to do,” she declared. “Up and at ’em.”

  He pushed up to an elbow and stared back at her.

  “Stop looking hot and pounceable,” she ordered. “I’m hungry and you’re out of condoms. So we also have errands to run.”

  After that, she shot him a smile and wandered out, wearing what she wore to bed the night before. A red satin nightie that barely covered her ass.

  When he lost sight of her, he kept his gaze aimed where he’d last seen her, then he looked down at the empty expanse of bed beside him.

  He’d fallen back to sleep.

  Not only did it but did it and then didn’t have the dreams.

  “Jesus,” he whispered.

  How…?

  He didn’t ask.

  He didn’t care.

  He kicked the covers off his legs and got out of bed.

  * * * *

  “Mo,” Lottie moaned, coming in his mouth.

  Mo took it and then licked her clean.

  When he could leave her as he wanted her, he ducked out from under her nightie and grabbed hold of her panties which were hooked on one ankle, most of the material lying on the kitchen floor.

  He opened them, muttered, “Foot, baby,” and she moved to step in.

  He guided the panties up her legs, coming off his knees as he did it, and pulled them over her ass, smoothing them around the waistband while he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

  He then moved his hands to her waist, rubbing circles there over her nightie with his thumbs and looking in her hazy eyes.

  Christ, he liked her like that.

  He liked her all the time.

  But he definitely liked giving her that.

  “Now we can have coffee,” he murmured, grinning at her.

  Ascertaining she was steady, he moved to the Nespresso machine, mentally ticking that off the to-do list he’d been forming practically since he met her.

  Now all he had to do was fuck her on the couch in front of her TV, in her shower, and in his bed.

  Then he could make another to-do list.

  * * * *

  “Holy smokes, this place is rad,” Lottie breathed as he led her into his LoHi condo.

  Mo dropped her hand and moved to the kitchen, but did it looking around.

  He had to admit, his crib was pretty awesome.

  He’d just liked the space and it was a good investment, a hot ’hood in Denver, great scores for walking, restaurants, shops, transit. Central location. Excellent views. Fireplace. Easy access to I-25.

  It wasn’t spacious, something Tammy bitched about a lot.

  But Mag and him didn’t feel on top of each other.

  Then again, one of them was always working, at the gym, Mag off scoring, or they both were sleeping, so it wasn’t often they co-existed in the space.

  Though seeing his neatly-stacked pile of mail, he was feeling good about his friend and roommate. Mag was not as obsessive as Lottie, but he was as obsessive as Mo. And that worked.

  “Seriously, pookie, Hawk really doesn’t have you on food stamps, does he?” she asked.

  Hawk did not.

  He stopped at the marble-topped island where his mail was and grinned at her.

  “Wander around,” he invited. “I gotta go through my mail.”

  “Which bedroom is yours?” she asked.

  He was rethinking his invitation, wondering if he could concentrate on mail when Lottie was in his bedroom for the first time, but he saw the excitement on her face.

  She liked his place.

  Mo liked that she liked his place.

  So he said, “To the left.”

  She looked that way before she walked that way.

  He watched her go then cast his glance across the entirety of the space.

  When he bought it four years ago, he’d moved his shitty-ass stuff in there.

  He then listened to his sisters bitch at him for a year about his shitty-ass stuff being in a LoHi condo with a view of the city where you could hit Little Man Ice Cream with no hassle.

  So he’d gone to a swank furniture store where the pictures online showed stuff he didn’t mind. He’d found a chick who worked there and told her he needed a comfortable couch and chair, a rug, decent dining table, some stools, a bed and a dresser and asked her where he could buy a bathroom mat and some towels that didn’t suck.

  The woman had visibly lost her mind.

  She’d then shared she was getting married in a couple of months, had just registered, therefore knew where the best stuff was, and told him she’d set him up. She even met him at other stores to sort his shit.

  He’d gone to her wedding. She’d been a pretty bride. Her husband was top-notch.

  And even Mo had to admit, with the grays, beiges, blues, woods, glass and kickass lamps, she hadn’t done too badly.

  And it had been three years and his towels were still the shit.

  Tammy hadn’t even griped about his towels.

  She wasn’t a fan of all the rest. Though she was, until he told her some woman he met at a furniture store kitted out his place. After that, she hated it.

  At that juncture, Mo was wondering why he’d put up with her.

  Then again, he’d had his first full night’s sleep in years (albeit interrupted by so
me great head and an even better fuck), so maybe he hadn’t been on his game.

  And he hadn’t yet met Lottie and cottoned on to what he might be missing.

  No, what he could earn.

  No.

  What he deserved.

  “Dude,” Lottie said as she wandered back into the open-plan space, “next time I revamp something at my house, you’re decorating it.”

  “Woman named Bobbi did it,” he told her, and watched her as he did.

  “Another ex?” she asked, entirely unconcerned, and coming to stand at the corner of the island next to him.

  “A woman in a furniture store who’d just registered for her wedding. Gave her a clean slate.” He tipped his head to the space. “She filled it.”

  “First, I’m in fits of glee you know what registering is,” she began. “Second, you probably made her year, and since she was getting married, that says something.”

  Through his smile he replied, “First, I have three married sisters. I know what seating charts and cake tastings are too.”

  She smiled back at him, huge.

  “Second, Josh, Bobbi’s husband, thanked me at the wedding, seein’ as she took care of my place, she wouldn’t feel the need to do theirs all in one go.”

  “The gift of your all-around awesomeness just keeps on giving,” she returned.

  At that, he bent and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

  Then he went to his mail.

  Flipping through it, he asked, “You down with me getting online for a few minutes so I can pay some bills?”

  “I’ve got until next Tuesday,” she murmured, drifting toward the living room area.

  When Smithie heard about her meltdown (this he got from Jet), he’d called Lottie to tell her he didn’t want to see her until her first set next Tuesday.

  Mo had to go in the next day, but he figured Hawk wouldn’t put him on an assignment that would jam up his weekend because Hawk didn’t do that shit. He’d been on duty twenty-four seven for a week. Hawk would give him his weekend or if he didn’t, he’d lay light duty on him.

  Next week, though, Mo would be fair game.

  Which, with Lottie in his life, would suck.

  But they had that day, all of it. And they’d gotten the worst part out of the way, going to see Mitch and Slim at the station after they’d had breakfast and showered.

  Now it was just Mo and his girl.