Bodyguard's Night Out (Part Two)
[Takes place right after this. Co-written by the muns]
"You certainly do have some nice moves," Salma laughs, a little breathless as the song ends and Moe pulls her into his arms. Such nice, big hands - and he's been using them to great effect all night, touching and caressing her every chance he gets as they've moved across the floor. "Where'd you learn to dance so fancy, anyway?" The rare colored men that've come into the club have only been interested in getting a taste of a white girl, not in socializing. Then again, none of them had been as easy on the eyes as Moe is, nor as cultured.
"Rubbing elbows with the right people back home," he says, and winks. She's a pleasant little handful, and the way she's been rubbing against him all night is downright distracting. It's a distraction he's more than happy to have, though. "Have to do quite a bit of socializing with my boss."
"I can't imagine that's too difficult," she says, smoothing her hands over his shoulders as a slow song starts. She's content to sway along to the beat and let him pull her closer. "Rubbing elbows with all of those high-society New York women, drinking their expensive champagne on their dime...I imagine the perks outweigh the work."
"Oh, they do." He pulls her up against him, hands splayed along her back. "Kitten tends to behave himself at those sorts of events, so I ain't gotta worry about any fights. It's almost like a night off for us."
"Well, tonight, you don't have to worry about working at all," she tells him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Tell you what," she says, making a spur of the moment decision, "I've got a nice, big, very comfortable bed back at my place. After we've closed the place down, I'll let you take me home and, maybe, if you're really lucky, I might make you my special Spanish eggs for breakfast." She doesn't mention that she's never made this offer to another client.
"For an offer like that, Miss Salma, I'll do whatever you want." Moe smiles down at her. He knows enough about women in her line of work to know that it's a rare occasion when they allow a client into their home. And it's even rarer when a full night is offered. His hands span her waist, and he doesn't resist the temptation that her lips offer as she looks up at him.
His kiss lives up to the promise of his lips, and she opens up to him, standing on tiptoes so she can more fully wrap her arms around him. She still only comes up to his shoulders. But the way he's holding her, as if she's something precious, instead of a commodity to be used, makes her feel even more delicate. And the kiss is worlds away from most kisses she's gotten while on the job - there's no groping or forcing his tongue down her throat - just a nice, easy, soft meeting of lips that has her all but melting against him.
"Soft lips," he murmurs, as he lifts his head. Soft as satin and so lush... He takes in the light flush to her cheeks, the shine to her lips, and he has to remind himself to be patient. "How about I buy you a drink now?"
"I'd like that," she replies, with a soft, private smile.
"Miss Saaaaaaaaaaaalma!!"
Salma rolls her eyes with a shrug of apology to Moe. When she peeks around him, she sees Ricky Wilder, son of famed financier Horatio Wilder, swaying, tie and hair mussed, wild light to his eyes as he makes a stabbing motion with his bottle at Moe. "C'mon'n have...fun wit' us," he slurs, "why ya gotta let some colored feller fuck you when I'm...here? Double yer rate..."
"Go away, Ricky, I'm off the clock," she tells him. She's too used to his insults for them to even register.
Ricky snorts, and almost falls over. "Whores ain't..." he hiccups, "ever off the clock. C'mon, we'll have...fun."
"I believe the lady said no," Moe rumbles, face impassive as he watches the other guy. He's clearly had far too much to drink and, even more clearly, enjoys spending far too much of Daddy's money. Moe's seen the type, and they're all the same.
"Shuddup, nigger," Ricky spits out, taking a stumbling step forward, beer spilling as he waves his bottle wildly around. "Nobody's talking t'you...'sides, whores," he sneers again at Salma, "can't say no. S'why they're whores."
It's not so much the word that bothers Salma - she is what she is and makes no apologies for it. It's the dismissive way he looks at her, like she's not human. By now, she should be used to it, but it bothers her all the same. "Ricky, sit down before I put you in a chair myself."
"Huh. Like t'see you touch me...'less it's those lips 'round my cock," Ricky replies, cupping himself in a crude gesture. "Bet you'd do it if I...offered 'nough."
The slur alone would have earned him an ass-whipping. But the way he keeps on at Salma has Moe seeing red. He doesn't even think about consequences as he pulls back. The sound his fist makes as it connects with the other fella's nose is immensely satisfying. "The lady said no," he says, voice soft and hard as steel. "Now you best pick yourself up and get out of here before I get mad."
Ricky drops to the floor like a dead weight, holding his nose and groaning, blood squirting from his fingers. Salma just signals to Trey, their bouncer, and shakes her head. Old money like the Wilders never learn, she thinks, and steps up to Moe. "Lemme see your hand," she says softly, ignoring the spectacle behind her as Trey uncerimoniously drags Ricky towards the door, over his muffled protests and threats.
"It's nothing, Miss Salma," Moe says, quiet as he watches the poor sot being dragged out of the club. A few questions will find out his name later, and after Moe talks to Dapper, the kid'll be lucky if he's allowed into any club in the city. Nigger, indeed. "Just a scratch, see."
"He's not worth it," she replies, fingers gentle as she probes his knuckles for further damage. When she finds only the scratch, she raises his hand to her lips for a soft kiss, keeping her eyes on his. "Thank you." Her voice is uncharacteristically low. "No one's ever come to my rescue before."
"Don't matter what you do for a living," Moe says, fingers curling over hers as he smiles into her eyes. "You're still a lady, and you still got feelings, and ain't no one got any right to talk to you like he did."
"Lotta people would say different," she replies, and steps closer, drawn to the look in his eyes. She's used to men looking at her with lust and want and greed - but, outside of Dapper and maybe his two bodyguards, she's never had anyone look at her like she's worthy of respect.
"Lotta people ain't got the sense God gave a goat," Moe says. "Don't mean they're right." He curls his free arm around Salma and pulls her in for a gentle hug.
It might seem weak to the people still watching them, but Salma doesn't care. She burrows into his embrace, resting her ear over his heart to hear the steady beat. "Gotta couple of bottles back at my place." It's the closest her pride will come to telling him that she wants to leave Tartine's.
"Well, then," Moe says, one hand stroking through dark, shining hair, "whatta you say we get out of here?"
With another small smile, she pulls away. "Let me just go grab my wrap," she says. "Two seconds."
"I'll be right here." He lets her go with obvious reluctance, then calmly stares down a few people after she disappears into the crowd.
"Nice right hook," Trey says, stepping up beside Moe, hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. "You do any boxing?"
"A little," Moe admits, giving the guy a once over, then grinning. "Not as much as Kitten, but I can hold my own."
"Come by the ring then one afternoon, we'll spar a few rounds." Trey offers his own grin, then his hand. "Lou's stopped sparring with me, and I'm looking for a new partner. Name's Trey."
"Moe." He shakes Trey's hand, approving of the firm grip. "Might have to take you up on that offer. I'll even go easy on you, save what little looks you still got," Moe says, with a wink.
"Maybe it'll be me going easy on you," Trey chuckles. "Don't wanna incur Salma's wrath by mussing up her new protector." His voice drops, even though no one's around them. "The kid you punched is Ricky Wilder, by the way. Horatio Wilder's youngest. Dapper should know the rest." Dapper's always treated everyone in his clubs well, and Trey's a loyal sort. He knows that Dapper would want to know about what had happened and who had mouthed off.
Moe just raises an eyebrow at the name. Ah, well. Ain't like it's the first society kid that Moe's knocked on his ass. "I'll tell Dapper about it in the morning."
"Appreciate it. Saves me the trouble of sending over a report," Trey says, just as Salma walks up, shawl thrown over her arm.
"I hope he's only telling you good things about me," Salma says with a pert grin at Trey.
"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, Miss Salma," Trey winks.
"Now I can't imagine anyone could find anything bad to say about you," Moe says with a wide grin.
"I imagine that Ricky Wilder might have something different to say about that," she replies, with a smile for both men. "Are you ready?"
"Remember them people I said ain't got the sense of a goat?" Moe winks and smiles when she laughs. He holds out his arm, giving her hand a pat as it curls around his elbow. "I been ready, darlin'."
"You two enjoy the rest of your evening," Trey says, and holds the door open for the both of them.
"Oh, we intend to," Salma replies with a saucy smile, and leans into Moe's arm as they cross the street. "It's not far," she tells him.
"I don't mind the walk," he tells her, smiling down as she presses against him. "Nice night, pretty lady on my arm...can't ask for much more than that."
"Maybe not, but I aim to give you more anyway." She leads him around the corner and another street. "Thank you again for earlier. I know you weren't aiming for a fist fight when you came in tonight."
"Miss Salma, you ain't gotta thank me." He pats her hand again, enjoying the warmth of her body against his side. "I just didn't want you to mess up your pretty little hands by belting him yourself."
"I could have, too," she tells him, cuddling into him just a little more. "Trey and Lou've both shown us girls a few moves. I can take care of myself." She peers up at him through her lashes, admiring the square, clean cut to his jaw. What an unexpected night this has turned out to be. "But I'm glad I didn't have to this time."
"Happy to take care of it for you," he says, deep voice rumbling in the quiet night air. His arms slips around her shoulders, pulling her just that much closer as they walk.
They turn another corner, onto a quiet street, lit by softly glowing lamps and lined with neat rows of small houses. She leads him up the walk to her door, turning in his arms to press her key into his hand. "You're the first man I've ever invited here," she says softly, giving in to the impulse to tell him the complete truth. Everything between them feels a little...different...now.
Moe holds the key for a moment and studies her eyes. "I'm honored," he finally says, smiling at her as his other hand slides along her arm in a soothing motion. Nice to know he hadn't been wrong with his earlier thoughts. Though...now he wants to ask why him.
"I wouldn't go that far. I mean, how much of an honor is it to get invited back to a whore's house?" The second the words are out, she curses the bitter tone. Ricky'd gotten to her far worse than she'd thought. Dammit.
His voice goes flat as he gives her a level look. "Miss Salma, I consider it an honor any time a lady wants to spend time with me. That don't happen much for a colored man."
In answer, she holds her arm next to his. "We're both colored," she says, quietly, meeting his gaze with her own steady look.
One eyebrow lifts. "Aw, darlin'," he says, smiling in spite of himself. "You ain't colored. You just got a little suntan there."
"Perhaps," she smiles, and goes to her tiptoes again to wrap her arms around his neck. "But I'd be willing to be that we look just as good together all over." The last is said in her best sultry purr. Time to make this evening fun again - she's been far more honest and open with him than she's been with a man in a very long time, and the knowledge makes her more than a little uneasy.
"Darlin', I bet you'd look just about damn near perfect all over me," he murmurs, hands sliding down her back to lightly cup her ass. Nice and round, just the way he likes it. "Now how 'bout we go inside before I scandalize your neighbors."
"You've got the key," she murmurs, and bites on his chin before wiggling slowly out of his grasp. "Use it."
Moe flashes a slow, lazy smile at her, then reaches around to unlock the door. She's fiesty. He likes that. Pushing the door open, he gestures at her. "After you, ma'am."
She puts an extra wiggle in her step as she steps inside, dropping her shawl on the foyer table. At least the place is clean, and hers, even though she knows it's got to be smaller than what he's used to, being Kitten's man.
"Nice place," he says, looking around after he locks the door. But not nearly as nice as the way her hips wiggle when she walks.
"Thanks," she replies, taking his hand and leads him towards the small, but immaculate, living room. "I may have earned it on my back, but it's mine and no one can take it away from me." Something she's fiercely proud of.
"Ain't no shame in how you got your money," he says, settling on the sofa and pulling her into his lap. "In fact, I know quite a few real decent people earn it same as you. And I've done a lot worse for my money."
"It ever bother you?" she asks, toying with his tie as she settles on his lap.
"It did at first," he admits, with a small shrug. His hands slide around her waist, squeezing gently, and he tips his head down to watch her. "But I was young. First time was the hardest. Most of the boys were the same. It ain't ever easy, y'know, but it's easier."
"I know how that goes," she replies softly, loosening his tie with a deft touch, and working on the buttons of his shirt. "Gets easier, but it feels sometimes like it shouldn't be."
"No," he says, voice soft as he continues to watch her. The contrast of her hands against his skin is breathtaking. "Don't guess it should, really."
"Well, then, I tell you what," she murmurs, lips skimming over his chin as she opens his shirt to smooth her hands over the heavily muscled planes of his chest. "Tonight, we'll shut out everything else. Just a man and a woman pleasuring each other..."
"That sounds like a real fine idea to me." His lips brush her jaw, and he takes a moment to inhale her scent. It's warm and spicy, with a hint of floral. Nice. Then he turns his head to kiss her softly as his hands skim up her sides to cup her breasts through the thin material of her dress.
She lets out an appreciative moan as she arches into the touch; his hands feel just as nice as she'd thought they would. When she angles her head to deepen the kiss, she can taste whiskey and something darker, pure male, and she shivers a little in anticipation.
Large fingers take their time, working slowly to unbutton her dress. When he has it undone to her waist, all he does is slip one hand inside to curl around a heavy breast, thumb slipping over the nipple as his tongue curls along hers.
The moan turns into a muffled keen as his thumb moves over her, sending spikes of pleasure through her body. She flattens her hands over his chest, sliding down, mapping warm skin as she arches into his touch, sucking lightly on his tongue.
Moe groans into the kiss, sking tingling for her delicate touch. His fingers circle her nipple, plucking lightly at it until it's a stiff peak. "Beautiful," he murmurs, mouthing her jaw as his other hand presses against her back to urge her up so his mouth can get at her breast.
She's been called that before - after all, her looks are why she's been so successful and why she works at Dapper's top club - but most men (clients, she corrects herself) reserve that word for her before the clothes come off. Then it's all instruction - move here, suck there, yeah, like that - and little in the way of talk. It's a little unnerving how instantly she reacts to the word, clutching at his shoulders as he suckles lightly at her nipple, contented hum skittering over her nerves like wildfire.
The way she responds to him is arousing as hell, and Moe presses her hips down against his. There's little doubt how much he's enjoying having her in his arms like this. His tongue flicks over her nipple, teeth grazing it as his lips map a path to the valley between her breasts.
She runs greedy hands over his head, marveling at how soft the skin is - she wonders if he shaves it every day. Then his tongue does something incredible, and she stops thinking altogether and just feels. When she grinds down against him, she can feel how hard he is, how big, and she shivers a little in anticipation of having him inside her.
Moe feels the shiver and smiles. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs against her skin, fingers slipping beneath the edges of her dress to push it over her shoulders, down her arms, until it pools at her waist. Plenty of time to see the rest, but right now... Right now he's going to enjoy the sight of her like this, hair tousled, lips red and swollen from the kiss, dusky skin slightly flushed, and those gorgeous, perfect breasts hanging heavy in front of him, full and beautiful and tipped with large, cocoa colored nipples.
"That's normally my line," she murmurs, biting her lower lip as she sits back a little, letting him look his fill. She likes the way he looks at her - like she truly is someone beautiful, worthy of reverence and respect.
"Yeah, well," he smiles at her, knuckles brushing one breast, then lift to caress her jaw. "You ain't working tonight, darlin'."
The knowledge slams into her like a freight train - not once during the evening had he brought up money or asked how much for a night. "You..." She stares back at him, wide-eyed, confused and aroused, hardly daring to breathe. She can't remember the last time anyone wanted to be with her. "You mean this isn't...?"
"Not if you don't want it to be," he says, voice soft, eyes never leaving hers. He can tell he's surprised her, but it's no more than she surprised him by bringing him here to her home. Moe just hopes he hasn't read this completely wrong. "Everything that happens tonight, darlin'...or don't happen...is your choice."
"My profession, I don't get much in the way of choices," she smiles, a little rueful and sad. "I mean, Dapper treats us great, don't get me wrong, but..." On impulse, she throws her arms around his neck, pressing close, enjoying his warmth and the solid build of him. Her defenses, so carefully cultivated and nurtured, are crumbling around her, and she can't even bring herself to care. "Thank you," she says, in a heartfelt whisper.
You're a gentleman, you're a gentleman... But damn, it's hard to remember that with her pressed up against him, soft arms around her neck, firm breasts crushed to his chest. "Don't have to thank me, Salma," he whispers, nuzzling her neck, inhaling the clean scent of her hair. "You ain't ever got to do nothing with me you don't want to, alright? Didn't come home with you 'cause of how you make your money."
The way he's holding her is the safest she's felt since she was a child, and the tumble is quick and hard. Yours, she whispers, a secret to herself, as she presses a soft kiss to his neck. Whatever he would ask of her right now, she'd do it without question. "I just want you," she murmurs, lifting her head, trying (and failing, she's sure) to keep her heart out of her eyes as she looks at him. "I want to give myself to you."
"That's a gift I probably don't deserve," he says, smiling into her eyes, hands gentle now as they touch her face, her hair, not at all immune to the abrupt shift of mood here. Then, without warning, he scoops her up in his arms and stands. "I ain't aiming to tumble you on the couch, so..."
"First door on the left upstairs," she tells him, and holds tight as he starts to move. He carries her as if she weighs nothing. "And you may not think you deserve it, but I say you do. Gonna argue with me?" she asks, with a small smile.
"I never argue with a beautiful lady," he tells her, winking. She fits nicely in his arms, weighing little more than a feather as he carries her up the stairs. The bedroom is easy to find, and he approves of the enormous bed there. Setting her on her feet, he looks down and cradles her face in his hands. "Anything you want, darling."
"Just you," she answers, and leans up on tiptoes to kiss his jaw. Last time she'd given her heart, she'd been 14 - and she hadn't been nearly as nervous as she is now. But she knows instinctively that Moe'll never hurt her.
"Well, you got me," he says. Another smile as his fingers slide through her hair, twining the dark strands around his hands. "Gonna take care of you," he murmurs, pulling her closer and barely touching her.
She slides her hands on his shoulders, admiring the strength and breadth of them, contrasting with the gentle way he's holding her. "And I'll take care of you...long as you want me."
"That might be a good long while," he replies, and he's a little shocked to realize just how true that is. The back of his fingers slide along her jaw, down her throat until his fingertips hover over her pulsepoint. "When's the last time someone made you feel good, darlin'?"
"Been a long time," she admits. Last time anyone's come close had been the one time she'd been with Kitten, but she tactfully doesn't mention that. What and who had come before doesn't matter. "Could ask the same of you...when's the last time someone just focused on your pleasure?"
"You mean without being paid?" Moe shrugs and carefully considers the question. "Been a while, I guess. Hard to find a woman interested in me and not my position or money."
"Well, you ain't paying me," and what a thrill it is to say it out loud. "And I don't care who you work for - I've been with some of the most powerful men in the country, and they've never made me feel like you do."
"Shame," Moe says, fingers dragging over her skin. He watches the path of his hand, so dark against her body. "You deserve to be treated like a goddess."
Another shiver runs through her at his words - a shiver she doesn't even try to hide. She wants him to know how he makes her feel. "A goddess, hmmm?" She steps close, pressing her breasts against his chest, and wiggles a little until her dress falls into a pool at her feet. "I'd like that," she murmurs, tilting her fact to place small kisses to his neck and collarbones.
"You can have anything you want, darlin'," he murmurs, brushing a light kiss over her lips. As he shrugs out of his jacket and shirt, his eyes roam over her. She's even more beautiful than he first believed. A narrow waist flares out into lush hips that frame the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. Then his eyes lift to meet hers and he smiles. "Definitely a goddess."
"Thank you." The blush isn't unexpected, but she tries to hide it by dropping her gaze, fingers going for the buttons of his slacks. She's impatient to see the rest of him.
Gentle fingers touch her chin to tilt her face up. Her blush amazes him, and he takes a moment to touch one cheek with his fingertips. "You're welcome," he says with a soft smile, the muscles in his stomach jumping under her light touch.
It takes her a few tries to get the buttons undone, and she curses her uncharacteristic clumsiness before she parts the folds and pushes his slacks and boxers down over his hips. His cock, curving proudly up from its nest of black curls, more than lives up to her hopes, and she takes a moment to run a light finger along the head, then down the length.
He sucks in his breath at her touch, hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You got nice hands," he says, voice a trifle strained. "Real soft..." Right now, all he can think about is those hands wrapped around his cock, stroking him nice and slow.
"Gonna make you feel even better," she promises, and pushes on his chest. "On the bed with you."
"Your wish," he rumbles, winking at her as he lays down, sprawling to take up a large portion of the bed. There's still plenty of room for her. Hands behind his head, he watches her breasts sway as she comes towards him.
"You look real good like this," she tells him, crawling between his legs, and kneeling, running light hands up muscled thighs, then further up, one hand cupping his balls as the other curls around his cock. With a soft smile, she starts stroking him, paying close attention to every flicker of pleasure across his face. "I like the look of you on my bed."
His hips lift, and his eyes slide half-closed. "Think I'd like the look of you just about anywhere," he murmurs, not bothering to try to hide good her hands feel. Breath catching in his throat, he watches her, admiring the way the moonlight plays over her skin.
"How do you want me first?" Her fingers close even tighter around him, and her voice drops, seductive and low. She wants, badly, to give him everything. "My hands are yours, my mouth, my pussy...all of me, right here, waiting for you."
"I want it all," he says, eyes open to fasten on hers. "I'm a very greedy man, darlin', but I plan on returning the favor."
"Good," she smiles, and rubs her thumb over the head of his cock, "because I plan to be very greedy. Tell me what you want first."
One hand cups her chin, and his thumb slides over her bottom lip. "Why don't you show me what you can do with this pretty mouth of yours," he murmurs, cock twitching as her fingers continue to glide up and down it.
She makes a show of licking her lips as she bends her head, blowing a stream of cool air across his cock. "It'd be my pleasure," she murmurs, and flickers her tongue out over him as she slides down, lips stretched wide to accommodate the width of him.
He lets out a strangled groan at the first touch of her mouth. One hand tangles in her hair, but he doesn't pull. Instead, he cradles her head, gently guiding her into a rhythm he likes, then his fingers just stroke her scalp. Her tongue, soft and wet, sends sparks dancing through his blood.
He tastes sharp and musky, and she hums in contentment as she takes him deeper, relaxing her throat. Feels good to be doing this because she wants to, to give her man pleasure, to use her considerable skill because she chooses to, because she wants to drive Moe wild. She starts to move, slow and steady, two fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, meeting her lips with every push.
Both hands cradle her head as he gives in to the pleasure coursing through him. His hips lift, and his breathing comes harsh in his throat. "So good," he murmurs, voice husky as a shiver crawls over his skin.
She smiles inwardly at the edgy tone to his voice as she slides her tongue over the underside, practically gagging as she takes him all the way down. Aint' seen nothing yet, she thinks, free hand slipping between his thighs as she rolls his balls between her fingers, testing and toying with the heavy weight as she speeds up, lips shiny with spit and pre-come.
His hips snap up, and Moe has to fight to control himself, to keep from choking her. "Salma..." he murmurs, hands tugging a little now as her mouth drives him crazy, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
She loves the way he says her name, like he can't control himself, like she's the answer to a prayer. Relax, love, and let me, she thinks, tongue curling over the head as she takes him deep again.
"Darlin'...please..." His voice is choked, ending on a harsh groan as his hips snap up one last time, fingers tight in her hair.
The first thick splash is hot, bitter on her tongue, and she chokes a little as she starts to swallow. He tastes like the best sort of sin.
The fact that she swallows (without money) makes him fall just a little bit in love with her. His hands ease their grip, fingers slipping through the heavy silk of her hair, and he murmurs softly to her, nonsense words that are just sounds to fill up the silence.
Her jaw's a little sore, throat a little scratched, but she considers it well worth it. With a last kiss to the softened head of his cock, she starts to move up his body, placing lingering kisses to his stomach and chest, tongue lightly flickering over firm muscle and smooth skin.
"Thank you," he whispers, fingers gliding over her jaw. His skin puckers under her lips, and he's content to float in the lazy afterglow for a moment as she moves over him.
"For what?" She crosses her arms over his chest as she settles over him, searching his face, and smiling when she sees how relaxed he is. "Wanted to make you feel good."
"You succeeded," he says, returning her smile. "Why I'm thanking you." his hands frame her hips and urge her up his body, eyes glittering with renewed lust.
She bites her lip again, blushing a little when she figures out what it is he wants from her, but it doesn't stop her from sitting up and scooting forward, resting her arms on the headboard as she kneels over him. "You don't have to," she starts to tell him - she knows most men don't like to pleasure a woman this way, and even fewer colored men like to do it.
"I know I don't have to," he murmurs, looking up at her, fingers gently kneading her hips and thighs. "I want to. Now you gonna argue with me, or we gonna continue to enjoy ourselves?"
"No argument," she smiles, falling more in love with him by the minute. The fact that he's willing - eager, even - to do this for her...
"Good." Another smile, teeth flashing white in the dim light, then Moe urges her hips a little closer. He nuzzles the inside of her thigh, breathing in her warm, musky scent as his tongue flickers out to play over dark curls.
Her breath catches at the first teasing swipe of his tongue. It's been so long since anyone's done this for her...not that she wants to think about anyone else, or that she can. Every thought is of Moe, every sense attuned to him.
She tastes better than she smells, and his tongue delves deeper, sliding over slick folds. His hands clasp her thighs, urging them to open just a little more. When she relaxes, he smiles and settles down to business, tongue pushing deep inside her before circling her clit with light, teasing licks.
Her nerves are on fire, moans spilling out from a locked throat as she rocks against him, opens up to the press of his tongue. "Oh God," she whimpers, clutching tight to the railing of the headboard as she looks down, gaze locked to the sight of his mouth on her, pink tongue flicking from full lips as he jabs it inside her, sending her spiralling even higher.
Her moans and whimpers make him ever harder. His hands slide up her thighs to ease her lips apart so he can press deeper, suckling her clit before spearing his tongue into her again, determined to send her over the edge. Beautiful, that's it...
With a muffled sob, she gives in, coming with a hard shudder, spots dancing from behind closed eyelids as her hands spasm on the railing.
His tongue slides over her one last time before he reaches up to ease her hands from the railing. "S'alright, darlin', I got you," he murmurs, pulling her down until she's cradled against his chest, body still trembling.
She shivers in his arms, clinging tight to him as she presses soft kisses to his nape and jaw. She feels so safe like this, so cherished. "That was...so..."
"Enjoyable I hope," he says, laughter rumbling through his chest as his hands slide along her back.
"Not even I can fake that well," she laughs, pressing closer to feel his laughter reverberate through her. "I don't think I've ever come that hard."
With a smug smile, he kisses her forehead. Then, without warning, he rolls her to her back, looming over her. "Up for another round?" he murmurs, nuzzling the soft skin just below her ear.
"You have to ask?" she murmurs, running her hands down his back as she arches against him.
"Just making sure." His lips trail over her skin, down to her collarbone as he settles against her, cock pushing slowly, insistently, into her welcoming heat.
"Please..." The word ends on a gasp as she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. He's so big that it's almost painful, but she opens to him, relaxes as he pushes inside until he's buried completely in her. "So full..."
"Tell me if I hurt you," Moe says, as he starts to move, rocking into her with shallow, controlled thrusts. Fuck, but she's tight, and he can't remember the last time any woman took him this deep.
"You won't." Far from it - now that she's relaxed a little, all she can feel is the thick, hard press of him, rubbing that spot deep inside her. "More," she breathes, lips finding his for a slow, tangled, thorough kiss.
"As much as you want, darlin'," he murmurs, gently biting at her bottom lip. He moves a little faster, a little deeper, pleased with the way her legs grip him tight.
"Want...everything," and it scares her just how much she means it. She rakes light nails across his shoulderblades, then clings to him, offering her lips for more kisses as she pushes against him, every thrust shooting more sparks of pleasure through her.
"It's yours," he says, meaning it as he kisses her hard enough to bruise her lips, tongues tangling together as he moves faster, each thrust an effort to imprint himself on her soul.
Yours, Salma thinks, moaning into the next kiss as the head of Moe's cock presses against that spot again. She comes with a muffled groan, tightening around him, still helplessly moving with every thrust even as her vision greys.
Christ, but she's gorgeous when she comes. Moe stares down at her face, eyes raking over flushed cheeks, slack lips, and he lets his control go. His hips piston against hers, each thrust deep as he bends his head to capture a hard nipple between his teeth.
The second orgasm rolls hard on the heels of the first, and she sobs out his name, clutching tight to strong shoulders. He's so deep inside her that it feels like they'll be fused together forever, just like this, and she welcomes it, shuddering and moaning as she gives herself over to him completely.
That's it... Jesus, but he could watch her come all night long. And the way her muscles grip him so tight, like she doesn't want to let him go... With a hoarse groan, Moe buries himself, spilling deep inside her, arms trembling as he tries to keep from collapsing on top of her.
She nuzzles his neck, tasting sweat, as she urges him down, welcoming his weight on her. "Perfect," she murmurs, lassitude in her voice as she lazily stretches under him. It's on the tip of her tongue to confess a lot more, but she restrains herself.
"Oh?" He watches her with amused eyes. The way she stretches, while hot as hell with the way she's pressed beneath him, almost reminds him of a kitten.
"Mmhmm..." She smiles up at him, knowing he can read everything in her eyes, and not caring.
Her eyes shake him, but not enough to scare him off. "Good," he murmurs, returning the smile as he rolls off of her and pulls her onto his chest. "I thought it was pretty damn perfect myself."
It's a start, she thinks, and smiles as she snuggles closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Can I get you anything?" Wouldn't be the first time - far from it - that she's served as maid after sex. The only different being that this time, she really doesn't mind.
"Just yourself right now," he murmurs, kissing the top of her head as he pulls her closer, one arm wrapped snug around her body.
"Alright," she murmurs, head dropping on his shoulder. She's not used to men who want to stick around after - it's a pleasant, welcome change. "Whatever you want."
"Not just me." Moe smiles, kissing the top of her head again and, for a brief moment, thinking how nice it would be to have this all the time. "This is about both of us, darlin'."
"You're really not like most men, are you?"
"Guess that depends on which men you're talking about," he says, with a soft smile. His hand slides up to her shoulder so he can rub his thumb over the soft, warm skin there. "Dapper's men...and my partner, George...I'm a lot like them. Dapper and Kitten a little, too, I guess. Other than that..." He shrugs.
"Dapper's always been nice to the girls," Salma says, eyes drifting closed as she enjoys the way he's touching her, like she's something valuable, worth having. "Doesn't mess with us at all, always remembers our names and asks after us...and Kitten was nice. Treated me good the time I's with him. But you..." She nuzzles the underside of his jaw, tasting salty, warm skin. "You're different."
Moe smiles. That sounds just like Orlando. And Kitten...well...Moe hasn't seen the woman yet that Kitten didn't treat like a queen. Even the ones he hates. "Maybe I'm just trying to make an impression on you," he says, with a smile and a wink. "So's you'll stick around."
"Long as you'll have me," she replies softly, looking up, gaze unwavering. She's never felt this instant of a connection with anyone else, and, well, if there's any chance that he might feel even a fraction of what she's feeling, it's enough.
"Well," he says, just as softly, meeting her gaze without flinching. "If I'm having you, you ain't having no one else." He's a little surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth. It's not like he's planned on taking a mistress while he's in Chicago. Hell, Lucky might call 'em home tomorrow.
No one else... Salma stares back, wide-eyed, certain she's misheard him or misunderstood. "What are you trying to say, Moe?" She doesn't dare hope that he really means what she thinks.
"Not trying to say anything." He continues to watch her, trying to guage her reaction. "It's a big decision, but...long as I'm here in Chicago, if you want, you ain't gotta work."
Not work...not have to show up at the club every night and coddle famously spoiled rich men (and a few women) for money... Just the idea of it is almost too much to handle, that anyone would want to be with her full-time, would want her exclusively. "You askin' to take care of me?" she asks, voice husky, low. She feels like crying, and has no idea why.
"Reckon I am," he says, quietly, hand sliding along her arm in slow strokes. "Think maybe...you need someone to take care of you."
"I...I don't know what..." Since her parents've died, no one's ever said those words to her or even offered. The fact that this man - this decent, smart, honorable man (doesn't matter what he does for a living, she knows men of their word when she meets them) - wants to be with her... "Yes," she whispers, throat clogged, as she flings herself almost completely on top of him, holding tight.
'Bout how he figured she'd react. Moe just smiles and wraps both arms around her, holding her tight. "Gonna be alright, darlin'," he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to her temple. "I'll talk to Dapper. You ain't got nothing to worry about now."
She's only known him a night, and she's about to place her life in his hands...and somehow, nothing has ever felt so right in her entire life. "Thank you," she tells him, rubbing her lips across his. "I'll make you proud of me, I swear. You won't regret it." She has no idea what being a powerful man's mistress entails, but she's got friends. Hopefully, they can offer her some sort of advice.
"I know I won't," he says, and smiles. One hand cradles the back of her head and he pulls her down for a soft kiss.
She smiles shyly when she lifts her head. "Hope you know what you're doing," she teases. "I never got any training to be a mistress."
"Ain't that hard," Moe says, and laughs. "Look pretty on my arm when I take you out, enjoy the gifts I buy you, and take care of me when I'm in the mood for a little lovin'. I'll take care of your bills, and you'll have spending money so you're free to do what you want when I'm not around. Except sleep with other men."
"I would never do that to you." Her voice is serious, soft. "I've been with plenty of men, Moe, I know what's out there. I ain't got any wild oats that need sowing. I promise you right now I will never be unfaithful or even give you reason to doubt me."
"That's good enough for me," he says, voice just as soft. The back of his knuckles brush her cheek, and he smiles. "It ain't gonna be awkward for you, is it? Being around Kitten, having slept with him and all?"
"It was an hour," she replies, with a smile. "Don't guess I'm the first woman he's been with that he's had to see again socially, so I think we'll be fine. Are you gonna be alright with it?"
"It's in the past," he shrugs. "Long as you're fine with being around him socially, I won't have a problem at all. And Kitten's too wrapped up in...well...he's too wrapped up to even think about it, really."
"I'm sure he's a busy man," Salma replies, then worries her lower lip between her teeth, trying to think of the best way to ask her next question. She doesn't want to seem jealous - because she's not - but it would help her to know what all she needs to expect. "Are...are your other mistresses going to be upset with you taking me on?" Last thing she wants is a hen-fight with girls who've been with Moe a lot longer.
Moe blinks, then laughs, the sound rumbling up through his chest. Other mistresses. Of all things. "I only got one mistress right now, darlin'," he says, flashing her a grin. "And that's you. I'm just a simple man, and taking on more than one at a time is just sheer lunacy."
Salma's jaw drops as she blinks owlishly at Moe. "But, I'm...not even back in New York...?"
"Nah," he says, chuckling as he puts a finger under her chin and gently closes her mouth. "Had one, but I ended it a few months back. She got to be far too expensive."
"Too many baubles?" Salma asks, brain still whirring, trying to figure out this latest twist. The only mistress...
"Expected one every single time I saw her." His fingers slide through Salma's hair, and he enjoys the feel of the dark strands against his skin. "Plus she was always expecting dinner out at the fanciest places in New York."
Salma frowns, even as she leans into his soft touch. "She never cooked for you?"
"Cooked for..." Moe laughs. "Darlin', she couldn't have boiled water without burning."
"If she didn't take care of you at all, then she wasn't a very good mistress," Salma states. "Any woman can please a man in bed. It takes more to make a good mistress, everyone knows that."
"Is that so?" He looks at her with fond amusement and wonders if she knows how sexy she is when she's all fiesty like this. "So tell me what it takes to make a good mistress."
She's completely in over her head, but she's listened over the years, and she's got a keen eye. So she tosses her head, and settles back on his chest, hands folded under her chin as she looks at him. "It's more than simply looking nice on a man's arm and spreading your legs - you can get that cheap. Mistresses should...they should reflect your status, be an asset. Be able to converse, act accordingly in public, around your friends and peers. They should take care of their men - nice, relaxing home-cooked meals, a clean house, be a place of refuge, listen in private."
"Don't sound much different than a wife," he murmurs, and smiles. His fingers continue to toy with her hair as he watches her. "Think you can be all you said there, darlin'?"
"I know I can," she replies, confidently. "You'll see." However long he's in Chicago, she'll make sure he never has cause to regret this. And when she has to let him go...it'll be with the knowledge that she did the best she could for him.
"Then I reckon the job's yours," he says, completely deadpan even as his eyes twinkle. "If you want it, that is."
"I already said yes," she informs him in a prim tone, eyes narrowing as she pokes his chest with an elegant finger. "As long as you're in Chicago, I'll take care of you."
White teeth flash against dark skin when he grins at her. "Well, then," he says, catching her finger and nipping the tip of it while his other hand slides down to the curve of her ass, pressing her snug against him, "how about you start right now?"
She wiggles against him, practiced and easy. Here, she knows she's an expert. She hopes the rest will come in time. "What'd you have in mind?"
Both hands frame her hips, lifting her a little so he can slide his cock against her slickness. "Think I like you right here," he murmurs, knowing she'll get the hint.
She braces her hands on his chest, pushing up, then back, rocking until the head of his cock is inside her. "Then I suggest you relax," she murmurs with a lazy, seductive smile, "and let me take care of you."
"Be happy to, darlin'," he says, smiling up at her and giving himself over to the exquisite sensation of his cock being enveloped in snug heat.
"You certainly do have some nice moves," Salma laughs, a little breathless as the song ends and Moe pulls her into his arms. Such nice, big hands - and he's been using them to great effect all night, touching and caressing her every chance he gets as they've moved across the floor. "Where'd you learn to dance so fancy, anyway?" The rare colored men that've come into the club have only been interested in getting a taste of a white girl, not in socializing. Then again, none of them had been as easy on the eyes as Moe is, nor as cultured.
"Rubbing elbows with the right people back home," he says, and winks. She's a pleasant little handful, and the way she's been rubbing against him all night is downright distracting. It's a distraction he's more than happy to have, though. "Have to do quite a bit of socializing with my boss."
"I can't imagine that's too difficult," she says, smoothing her hands over his shoulders as a slow song starts. She's content to sway along to the beat and let him pull her closer. "Rubbing elbows with all of those high-society New York women, drinking their expensive champagne on their dime...I imagine the perks outweigh the work."
"Oh, they do." He pulls her up against him, hands splayed along her back. "Kitten tends to behave himself at those sorts of events, so I ain't gotta worry about any fights. It's almost like a night off for us."
"Well, tonight, you don't have to worry about working at all," she tells him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Tell you what," she says, making a spur of the moment decision, "I've got a nice, big, very comfortable bed back at my place. After we've closed the place down, I'll let you take me home and, maybe, if you're really lucky, I might make you my special Spanish eggs for breakfast." She doesn't mention that she's never made this offer to another client.
"For an offer like that, Miss Salma, I'll do whatever you want." Moe smiles down at her. He knows enough about women in her line of work to know that it's a rare occasion when they allow a client into their home. And it's even rarer when a full night is offered. His hands span her waist, and he doesn't resist the temptation that her lips offer as she looks up at him.
His kiss lives up to the promise of his lips, and she opens up to him, standing on tiptoes so she can more fully wrap her arms around him. She still only comes up to his shoulders. But the way he's holding her, as if she's something precious, instead of a commodity to be used, makes her feel even more delicate. And the kiss is worlds away from most kisses she's gotten while on the job - there's no groping or forcing his tongue down her throat - just a nice, easy, soft meeting of lips that has her all but melting against him.
"Soft lips," he murmurs, as he lifts his head. Soft as satin and so lush... He takes in the light flush to her cheeks, the shine to her lips, and he has to remind himself to be patient. "How about I buy you a drink now?"
"I'd like that," she replies, with a soft, private smile.
"Miss Saaaaaaaaaaaalma!!"
Salma rolls her eyes with a shrug of apology to Moe. When she peeks around him, she sees Ricky Wilder, son of famed financier Horatio Wilder, swaying, tie and hair mussed, wild light to his eyes as he makes a stabbing motion with his bottle at Moe. "C'mon'n have...fun wit' us," he slurs, "why ya gotta let some colored feller fuck you when I'm...here? Double yer rate..."
"Go away, Ricky, I'm off the clock," she tells him. She's too used to his insults for them to even register.
Ricky snorts, and almost falls over. "Whores ain't..." he hiccups, "ever off the clock. C'mon, we'll have...fun."
"I believe the lady said no," Moe rumbles, face impassive as he watches the other guy. He's clearly had far too much to drink and, even more clearly, enjoys spending far too much of Daddy's money. Moe's seen the type, and they're all the same.
"Shuddup, nigger," Ricky spits out, taking a stumbling step forward, beer spilling as he waves his bottle wildly around. "Nobody's talking t'you...'sides, whores," he sneers again at Salma, "can't say no. S'why they're whores."
It's not so much the word that bothers Salma - she is what she is and makes no apologies for it. It's the dismissive way he looks at her, like she's not human. By now, she should be used to it, but it bothers her all the same. "Ricky, sit down before I put you in a chair myself."
"Huh. Like t'see you touch me...'less it's those lips 'round my cock," Ricky replies, cupping himself in a crude gesture. "Bet you'd do it if I...offered 'nough."
The slur alone would have earned him an ass-whipping. But the way he keeps on at Salma has Moe seeing red. He doesn't even think about consequences as he pulls back. The sound his fist makes as it connects with the other fella's nose is immensely satisfying. "The lady said no," he says, voice soft and hard as steel. "Now you best pick yourself up and get out of here before I get mad."
Ricky drops to the floor like a dead weight, holding his nose and groaning, blood squirting from his fingers. Salma just signals to Trey, their bouncer, and shakes her head. Old money like the Wilders never learn, she thinks, and steps up to Moe. "Lemme see your hand," she says softly, ignoring the spectacle behind her as Trey uncerimoniously drags Ricky towards the door, over his muffled protests and threats.
"It's nothing, Miss Salma," Moe says, quiet as he watches the poor sot being dragged out of the club. A few questions will find out his name later, and after Moe talks to Dapper, the kid'll be lucky if he's allowed into any club in the city. Nigger, indeed. "Just a scratch, see."
"He's not worth it," she replies, fingers gentle as she probes his knuckles for further damage. When she finds only the scratch, she raises his hand to her lips for a soft kiss, keeping her eyes on his. "Thank you." Her voice is uncharacteristically low. "No one's ever come to my rescue before."
"Don't matter what you do for a living," Moe says, fingers curling over hers as he smiles into her eyes. "You're still a lady, and you still got feelings, and ain't no one got any right to talk to you like he did."
"Lotta people would say different," she replies, and steps closer, drawn to the look in his eyes. She's used to men looking at her with lust and want and greed - but, outside of Dapper and maybe his two bodyguards, she's never had anyone look at her like she's worthy of respect.
"Lotta people ain't got the sense God gave a goat," Moe says. "Don't mean they're right." He curls his free arm around Salma and pulls her in for a gentle hug.
It might seem weak to the people still watching them, but Salma doesn't care. She burrows into his embrace, resting her ear over his heart to hear the steady beat. "Gotta couple of bottles back at my place." It's the closest her pride will come to telling him that she wants to leave Tartine's.
"Well, then," Moe says, one hand stroking through dark, shining hair, "whatta you say we get out of here?"
With another small smile, she pulls away. "Let me just go grab my wrap," she says. "Two seconds."
"I'll be right here." He lets her go with obvious reluctance, then calmly stares down a few people after she disappears into the crowd.
"Nice right hook," Trey says, stepping up beside Moe, hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. "You do any boxing?"
"A little," Moe admits, giving the guy a once over, then grinning. "Not as much as Kitten, but I can hold my own."
"Come by the ring then one afternoon, we'll spar a few rounds." Trey offers his own grin, then his hand. "Lou's stopped sparring with me, and I'm looking for a new partner. Name's Trey."
"Moe." He shakes Trey's hand, approving of the firm grip. "Might have to take you up on that offer. I'll even go easy on you, save what little looks you still got," Moe says, with a wink.
"Maybe it'll be me going easy on you," Trey chuckles. "Don't wanna incur Salma's wrath by mussing up her new protector." His voice drops, even though no one's around them. "The kid you punched is Ricky Wilder, by the way. Horatio Wilder's youngest. Dapper should know the rest." Dapper's always treated everyone in his clubs well, and Trey's a loyal sort. He knows that Dapper would want to know about what had happened and who had mouthed off.
Moe just raises an eyebrow at the name. Ah, well. Ain't like it's the first society kid that Moe's knocked on his ass. "I'll tell Dapper about it in the morning."
"Appreciate it. Saves me the trouble of sending over a report," Trey says, just as Salma walks up, shawl thrown over her arm.
"I hope he's only telling you good things about me," Salma says with a pert grin at Trey.
"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, Miss Salma," Trey winks.
"Now I can't imagine anyone could find anything bad to say about you," Moe says with a wide grin.
"I imagine that Ricky Wilder might have something different to say about that," she replies, with a smile for both men. "Are you ready?"
"Remember them people I said ain't got the sense of a goat?" Moe winks and smiles when she laughs. He holds out his arm, giving her hand a pat as it curls around his elbow. "I been ready, darlin'."
"You two enjoy the rest of your evening," Trey says, and holds the door open for the both of them.
"Oh, we intend to," Salma replies with a saucy smile, and leans into Moe's arm as they cross the street. "It's not far," she tells him.
"I don't mind the walk," he tells her, smiling down as she presses against him. "Nice night, pretty lady on my arm...can't ask for much more than that."
"Maybe not, but I aim to give you more anyway." She leads him around the corner and another street. "Thank you again for earlier. I know you weren't aiming for a fist fight when you came in tonight."
"Miss Salma, you ain't gotta thank me." He pats her hand again, enjoying the warmth of her body against his side. "I just didn't want you to mess up your pretty little hands by belting him yourself."
"I could have, too," she tells him, cuddling into him just a little more. "Trey and Lou've both shown us girls a few moves. I can take care of myself." She peers up at him through her lashes, admiring the square, clean cut to his jaw. What an unexpected night this has turned out to be. "But I'm glad I didn't have to this time."
"Happy to take care of it for you," he says, deep voice rumbling in the quiet night air. His arms slips around her shoulders, pulling her just that much closer as they walk.
They turn another corner, onto a quiet street, lit by softly glowing lamps and lined with neat rows of small houses. She leads him up the walk to her door, turning in his arms to press her key into his hand. "You're the first man I've ever invited here," she says softly, giving in to the impulse to tell him the complete truth. Everything between them feels a little...different...now.
Moe holds the key for a moment and studies her eyes. "I'm honored," he finally says, smiling at her as his other hand slides along her arm in a soothing motion. Nice to know he hadn't been wrong with his earlier thoughts. Though...now he wants to ask why him.
"I wouldn't go that far. I mean, how much of an honor is it to get invited back to a whore's house?" The second the words are out, she curses the bitter tone. Ricky'd gotten to her far worse than she'd thought. Dammit.
His voice goes flat as he gives her a level look. "Miss Salma, I consider it an honor any time a lady wants to spend time with me. That don't happen much for a colored man."
In answer, she holds her arm next to his. "We're both colored," she says, quietly, meeting his gaze with her own steady look.
One eyebrow lifts. "Aw, darlin'," he says, smiling in spite of himself. "You ain't colored. You just got a little suntan there."
"Perhaps," she smiles, and goes to her tiptoes again to wrap her arms around his neck. "But I'd be willing to be that we look just as good together all over." The last is said in her best sultry purr. Time to make this evening fun again - she's been far more honest and open with him than she's been with a man in a very long time, and the knowledge makes her more than a little uneasy.
"Darlin', I bet you'd look just about damn near perfect all over me," he murmurs, hands sliding down her back to lightly cup her ass. Nice and round, just the way he likes it. "Now how 'bout we go inside before I scandalize your neighbors."
"You've got the key," she murmurs, and bites on his chin before wiggling slowly out of his grasp. "Use it."
Moe flashes a slow, lazy smile at her, then reaches around to unlock the door. She's fiesty. He likes that. Pushing the door open, he gestures at her. "After you, ma'am."
She puts an extra wiggle in her step as she steps inside, dropping her shawl on the foyer table. At least the place is clean, and hers, even though she knows it's got to be smaller than what he's used to, being Kitten's man.
"Nice place," he says, looking around after he locks the door. But not nearly as nice as the way her hips wiggle when she walks.
"Thanks," she replies, taking his hand and leads him towards the small, but immaculate, living room. "I may have earned it on my back, but it's mine and no one can take it away from me." Something she's fiercely proud of.
"Ain't no shame in how you got your money," he says, settling on the sofa and pulling her into his lap. "In fact, I know quite a few real decent people earn it same as you. And I've done a lot worse for my money."
"It ever bother you?" she asks, toying with his tie as she settles on his lap.
"It did at first," he admits, with a small shrug. His hands slide around her waist, squeezing gently, and he tips his head down to watch her. "But I was young. First time was the hardest. Most of the boys were the same. It ain't ever easy, y'know, but it's easier."
"I know how that goes," she replies softly, loosening his tie with a deft touch, and working on the buttons of his shirt. "Gets easier, but it feels sometimes like it shouldn't be."
"No," he says, voice soft as he continues to watch her. The contrast of her hands against his skin is breathtaking. "Don't guess it should, really."
"Well, then, I tell you what," she murmurs, lips skimming over his chin as she opens his shirt to smooth her hands over the heavily muscled planes of his chest. "Tonight, we'll shut out everything else. Just a man and a woman pleasuring each other..."
"That sounds like a real fine idea to me." His lips brush her jaw, and he takes a moment to inhale her scent. It's warm and spicy, with a hint of floral. Nice. Then he turns his head to kiss her softly as his hands skim up her sides to cup her breasts through the thin material of her dress.
She lets out an appreciative moan as she arches into the touch; his hands feel just as nice as she'd thought they would. When she angles her head to deepen the kiss, she can taste whiskey and something darker, pure male, and she shivers a little in anticipation.
Large fingers take their time, working slowly to unbutton her dress. When he has it undone to her waist, all he does is slip one hand inside to curl around a heavy breast, thumb slipping over the nipple as his tongue curls along hers.
The moan turns into a muffled keen as his thumb moves over her, sending spikes of pleasure through her body. She flattens her hands over his chest, sliding down, mapping warm skin as she arches into his touch, sucking lightly on his tongue.
Moe groans into the kiss, sking tingling for her delicate touch. His fingers circle her nipple, plucking lightly at it until it's a stiff peak. "Beautiful," he murmurs, mouthing her jaw as his other hand presses against her back to urge her up so his mouth can get at her breast.
She's been called that before - after all, her looks are why she's been so successful and why she works at Dapper's top club - but most men (clients, she corrects herself) reserve that word for her before the clothes come off. Then it's all instruction - move here, suck there, yeah, like that - and little in the way of talk. It's a little unnerving how instantly she reacts to the word, clutching at his shoulders as he suckles lightly at her nipple, contented hum skittering over her nerves like wildfire.
The way she responds to him is arousing as hell, and Moe presses her hips down against his. There's little doubt how much he's enjoying having her in his arms like this. His tongue flicks over her nipple, teeth grazing it as his lips map a path to the valley between her breasts.
She runs greedy hands over his head, marveling at how soft the skin is - she wonders if he shaves it every day. Then his tongue does something incredible, and she stops thinking altogether and just feels. When she grinds down against him, she can feel how hard he is, how big, and she shivers a little in anticipation of having him inside her.
Moe feels the shiver and smiles. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs against her skin, fingers slipping beneath the edges of her dress to push it over her shoulders, down her arms, until it pools at her waist. Plenty of time to see the rest, but right now... Right now he's going to enjoy the sight of her like this, hair tousled, lips red and swollen from the kiss, dusky skin slightly flushed, and those gorgeous, perfect breasts hanging heavy in front of him, full and beautiful and tipped with large, cocoa colored nipples.
"That's normally my line," she murmurs, biting her lower lip as she sits back a little, letting him look his fill. She likes the way he looks at her - like she truly is someone beautiful, worthy of reverence and respect.
"Yeah, well," he smiles at her, knuckles brushing one breast, then lift to caress her jaw. "You ain't working tonight, darlin'."
The knowledge slams into her like a freight train - not once during the evening had he brought up money or asked how much for a night. "You..." She stares back at him, wide-eyed, confused and aroused, hardly daring to breathe. She can't remember the last time anyone wanted to be with her. "You mean this isn't...?"
"Not if you don't want it to be," he says, voice soft, eyes never leaving hers. He can tell he's surprised her, but it's no more than she surprised him by bringing him here to her home. Moe just hopes he hasn't read this completely wrong. "Everything that happens tonight, darlin'...or don't happen...is your choice."
"My profession, I don't get much in the way of choices," she smiles, a little rueful and sad. "I mean, Dapper treats us great, don't get me wrong, but..." On impulse, she throws her arms around his neck, pressing close, enjoying his warmth and the solid build of him. Her defenses, so carefully cultivated and nurtured, are crumbling around her, and she can't even bring herself to care. "Thank you," she says, in a heartfelt whisper.
You're a gentleman, you're a gentleman... But damn, it's hard to remember that with her pressed up against him, soft arms around her neck, firm breasts crushed to his chest. "Don't have to thank me, Salma," he whispers, nuzzling her neck, inhaling the clean scent of her hair. "You ain't ever got to do nothing with me you don't want to, alright? Didn't come home with you 'cause of how you make your money."
The way he's holding her is the safest she's felt since she was a child, and the tumble is quick and hard. Yours, she whispers, a secret to herself, as she presses a soft kiss to his neck. Whatever he would ask of her right now, she'd do it without question. "I just want you," she murmurs, lifting her head, trying (and failing, she's sure) to keep her heart out of her eyes as she looks at him. "I want to give myself to you."
"That's a gift I probably don't deserve," he says, smiling into her eyes, hands gentle now as they touch her face, her hair, not at all immune to the abrupt shift of mood here. Then, without warning, he scoops her up in his arms and stands. "I ain't aiming to tumble you on the couch, so..."
"First door on the left upstairs," she tells him, and holds tight as he starts to move. He carries her as if she weighs nothing. "And you may not think you deserve it, but I say you do. Gonna argue with me?" she asks, with a small smile.
"I never argue with a beautiful lady," he tells her, winking. She fits nicely in his arms, weighing little more than a feather as he carries her up the stairs. The bedroom is easy to find, and he approves of the enormous bed there. Setting her on her feet, he looks down and cradles her face in his hands. "Anything you want, darling."
"Just you," she answers, and leans up on tiptoes to kiss his jaw. Last time she'd given her heart, she'd been 14 - and she hadn't been nearly as nervous as she is now. But she knows instinctively that Moe'll never hurt her.
"Well, you got me," he says. Another smile as his fingers slide through her hair, twining the dark strands around his hands. "Gonna take care of you," he murmurs, pulling her closer and barely touching her.
She slides her hands on his shoulders, admiring the strength and breadth of them, contrasting with the gentle way he's holding her. "And I'll take care of you...long as you want me."
"That might be a good long while," he replies, and he's a little shocked to realize just how true that is. The back of his fingers slide along her jaw, down her throat until his fingertips hover over her pulsepoint. "When's the last time someone made you feel good, darlin'?"
"Been a long time," she admits. Last time anyone's come close had been the one time she'd been with Kitten, but she tactfully doesn't mention that. What and who had come before doesn't matter. "Could ask the same of you...when's the last time someone just focused on your pleasure?"
"You mean without being paid?" Moe shrugs and carefully considers the question. "Been a while, I guess. Hard to find a woman interested in me and not my position or money."
"Well, you ain't paying me," and what a thrill it is to say it out loud. "And I don't care who you work for - I've been with some of the most powerful men in the country, and they've never made me feel like you do."
"Shame," Moe says, fingers dragging over her skin. He watches the path of his hand, so dark against her body. "You deserve to be treated like a goddess."
Another shiver runs through her at his words - a shiver she doesn't even try to hide. She wants him to know how he makes her feel. "A goddess, hmmm?" She steps close, pressing her breasts against his chest, and wiggles a little until her dress falls into a pool at her feet. "I'd like that," she murmurs, tilting her fact to place small kisses to his neck and collarbones.
"You can have anything you want, darlin'," he murmurs, brushing a light kiss over her lips. As he shrugs out of his jacket and shirt, his eyes roam over her. She's even more beautiful than he first believed. A narrow waist flares out into lush hips that frame the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. Then his eyes lift to meet hers and he smiles. "Definitely a goddess."
"Thank you." The blush isn't unexpected, but she tries to hide it by dropping her gaze, fingers going for the buttons of his slacks. She's impatient to see the rest of him.
Gentle fingers touch her chin to tilt her face up. Her blush amazes him, and he takes a moment to touch one cheek with his fingertips. "You're welcome," he says with a soft smile, the muscles in his stomach jumping under her light touch.
It takes her a few tries to get the buttons undone, and she curses her uncharacteristic clumsiness before she parts the folds and pushes his slacks and boxers down over his hips. His cock, curving proudly up from its nest of black curls, more than lives up to her hopes, and she takes a moment to run a light finger along the head, then down the length.
He sucks in his breath at her touch, hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You got nice hands," he says, voice a trifle strained. "Real soft..." Right now, all he can think about is those hands wrapped around his cock, stroking him nice and slow.
"Gonna make you feel even better," she promises, and pushes on his chest. "On the bed with you."
"Your wish," he rumbles, winking at her as he lays down, sprawling to take up a large portion of the bed. There's still plenty of room for her. Hands behind his head, he watches her breasts sway as she comes towards him.
"You look real good like this," she tells him, crawling between his legs, and kneeling, running light hands up muscled thighs, then further up, one hand cupping his balls as the other curls around his cock. With a soft smile, she starts stroking him, paying close attention to every flicker of pleasure across his face. "I like the look of you on my bed."
His hips lift, and his eyes slide half-closed. "Think I'd like the look of you just about anywhere," he murmurs, not bothering to try to hide good her hands feel. Breath catching in his throat, he watches her, admiring the way the moonlight plays over her skin.
"How do you want me first?" Her fingers close even tighter around him, and her voice drops, seductive and low. She wants, badly, to give him everything. "My hands are yours, my mouth, my pussy...all of me, right here, waiting for you."
"I want it all," he says, eyes open to fasten on hers. "I'm a very greedy man, darlin', but I plan on returning the favor."
"Good," she smiles, and rubs her thumb over the head of his cock, "because I plan to be very greedy. Tell me what you want first."
One hand cups her chin, and his thumb slides over her bottom lip. "Why don't you show me what you can do with this pretty mouth of yours," he murmurs, cock twitching as her fingers continue to glide up and down it.
She makes a show of licking her lips as she bends her head, blowing a stream of cool air across his cock. "It'd be my pleasure," she murmurs, and flickers her tongue out over him as she slides down, lips stretched wide to accommodate the width of him.
He lets out a strangled groan at the first touch of her mouth. One hand tangles in her hair, but he doesn't pull. Instead, he cradles her head, gently guiding her into a rhythm he likes, then his fingers just stroke her scalp. Her tongue, soft and wet, sends sparks dancing through his blood.
He tastes sharp and musky, and she hums in contentment as she takes him deeper, relaxing her throat. Feels good to be doing this because she wants to, to give her man pleasure, to use her considerable skill because she chooses to, because she wants to drive Moe wild. She starts to move, slow and steady, two fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, meeting her lips with every push.
Both hands cradle her head as he gives in to the pleasure coursing through him. His hips lift, and his breathing comes harsh in his throat. "So good," he murmurs, voice husky as a shiver crawls over his skin.
She smiles inwardly at the edgy tone to his voice as she slides her tongue over the underside, practically gagging as she takes him all the way down. Aint' seen nothing yet, she thinks, free hand slipping between his thighs as she rolls his balls between her fingers, testing and toying with the heavy weight as she speeds up, lips shiny with spit and pre-come.
His hips snap up, and Moe has to fight to control himself, to keep from choking her. "Salma..." he murmurs, hands tugging a little now as her mouth drives him crazy, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
She loves the way he says her name, like he can't control himself, like she's the answer to a prayer. Relax, love, and let me, she thinks, tongue curling over the head as she takes him deep again.
"Darlin'...please..." His voice is choked, ending on a harsh groan as his hips snap up one last time, fingers tight in her hair.
The first thick splash is hot, bitter on her tongue, and she chokes a little as she starts to swallow. He tastes like the best sort of sin.
The fact that she swallows (without money) makes him fall just a little bit in love with her. His hands ease their grip, fingers slipping through the heavy silk of her hair, and he murmurs softly to her, nonsense words that are just sounds to fill up the silence.
Her jaw's a little sore, throat a little scratched, but she considers it well worth it. With a last kiss to the softened head of his cock, she starts to move up his body, placing lingering kisses to his stomach and chest, tongue lightly flickering over firm muscle and smooth skin.
"Thank you," he whispers, fingers gliding over her jaw. His skin puckers under her lips, and he's content to float in the lazy afterglow for a moment as she moves over him.
"For what?" She crosses her arms over his chest as she settles over him, searching his face, and smiling when she sees how relaxed he is. "Wanted to make you feel good."
"You succeeded," he says, returning her smile. "Why I'm thanking you." his hands frame her hips and urge her up his body, eyes glittering with renewed lust.
She bites her lip again, blushing a little when she figures out what it is he wants from her, but it doesn't stop her from sitting up and scooting forward, resting her arms on the headboard as she kneels over him. "You don't have to," she starts to tell him - she knows most men don't like to pleasure a woman this way, and even fewer colored men like to do it.
"I know I don't have to," he murmurs, looking up at her, fingers gently kneading her hips and thighs. "I want to. Now you gonna argue with me, or we gonna continue to enjoy ourselves?"
"No argument," she smiles, falling more in love with him by the minute. The fact that he's willing - eager, even - to do this for her...
"Good." Another smile, teeth flashing white in the dim light, then Moe urges her hips a little closer. He nuzzles the inside of her thigh, breathing in her warm, musky scent as his tongue flickers out to play over dark curls.
Her breath catches at the first teasing swipe of his tongue. It's been so long since anyone's done this for her...not that she wants to think about anyone else, or that she can. Every thought is of Moe, every sense attuned to him.
She tastes better than she smells, and his tongue delves deeper, sliding over slick folds. His hands clasp her thighs, urging them to open just a little more. When she relaxes, he smiles and settles down to business, tongue pushing deep inside her before circling her clit with light, teasing licks.
Her nerves are on fire, moans spilling out from a locked throat as she rocks against him, opens up to the press of his tongue. "Oh God," she whimpers, clutching tight to the railing of the headboard as she looks down, gaze locked to the sight of his mouth on her, pink tongue flicking from full lips as he jabs it inside her, sending her spiralling even higher.
Her moans and whimpers make him ever harder. His hands slide up her thighs to ease her lips apart so he can press deeper, suckling her clit before spearing his tongue into her again, determined to send her over the edge. Beautiful, that's it...
With a muffled sob, she gives in, coming with a hard shudder, spots dancing from behind closed eyelids as her hands spasm on the railing.
His tongue slides over her one last time before he reaches up to ease her hands from the railing. "S'alright, darlin', I got you," he murmurs, pulling her down until she's cradled against his chest, body still trembling.
She shivers in his arms, clinging tight to him as she presses soft kisses to his nape and jaw. She feels so safe like this, so cherished. "That was...so..."
"Enjoyable I hope," he says, laughter rumbling through his chest as his hands slide along her back.
"Not even I can fake that well," she laughs, pressing closer to feel his laughter reverberate through her. "I don't think I've ever come that hard."
With a smug smile, he kisses her forehead. Then, without warning, he rolls her to her back, looming over her. "Up for another round?" he murmurs, nuzzling the soft skin just below her ear.
"You have to ask?" she murmurs, running her hands down his back as she arches against him.
"Just making sure." His lips trail over her skin, down to her collarbone as he settles against her, cock pushing slowly, insistently, into her welcoming heat.
"Please..." The word ends on a gasp as she wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. He's so big that it's almost painful, but she opens to him, relaxes as he pushes inside until he's buried completely in her. "So full..."
"Tell me if I hurt you," Moe says, as he starts to move, rocking into her with shallow, controlled thrusts. Fuck, but she's tight, and he can't remember the last time any woman took him this deep.
"You won't." Far from it - now that she's relaxed a little, all she can feel is the thick, hard press of him, rubbing that spot deep inside her. "More," she breathes, lips finding his for a slow, tangled, thorough kiss.
"As much as you want, darlin'," he murmurs, gently biting at her bottom lip. He moves a little faster, a little deeper, pleased with the way her legs grip him tight.
"Want...everything," and it scares her just how much she means it. She rakes light nails across his shoulderblades, then clings to him, offering her lips for more kisses as she pushes against him, every thrust shooting more sparks of pleasure through her.
"It's yours," he says, meaning it as he kisses her hard enough to bruise her lips, tongues tangling together as he moves faster, each thrust an effort to imprint himself on her soul.
Yours, Salma thinks, moaning into the next kiss as the head of Moe's cock presses against that spot again. She comes with a muffled groan, tightening around him, still helplessly moving with every thrust even as her vision greys.
Christ, but she's gorgeous when she comes. Moe stares down at her face, eyes raking over flushed cheeks, slack lips, and he lets his control go. His hips piston against hers, each thrust deep as he bends his head to capture a hard nipple between his teeth.
The second orgasm rolls hard on the heels of the first, and she sobs out his name, clutching tight to strong shoulders. He's so deep inside her that it feels like they'll be fused together forever, just like this, and she welcomes it, shuddering and moaning as she gives herself over to him completely.
That's it... Jesus, but he could watch her come all night long. And the way her muscles grip him so tight, like she doesn't want to let him go... With a hoarse groan, Moe buries himself, spilling deep inside her, arms trembling as he tries to keep from collapsing on top of her.
She nuzzles his neck, tasting sweat, as she urges him down, welcoming his weight on her. "Perfect," she murmurs, lassitude in her voice as she lazily stretches under him. It's on the tip of her tongue to confess a lot more, but she restrains herself.
"Oh?" He watches her with amused eyes. The way she stretches, while hot as hell with the way she's pressed beneath him, almost reminds him of a kitten.
"Mmhmm..." She smiles up at him, knowing he can read everything in her eyes, and not caring.
Her eyes shake him, but not enough to scare him off. "Good," he murmurs, returning the smile as he rolls off of her and pulls her onto his chest. "I thought it was pretty damn perfect myself."
It's a start, she thinks, and smiles as she snuggles closer, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Can I get you anything?" Wouldn't be the first time - far from it - that she's served as maid after sex. The only different being that this time, she really doesn't mind.
"Just yourself right now," he murmurs, kissing the top of her head as he pulls her closer, one arm wrapped snug around her body.
"Alright," she murmurs, head dropping on his shoulder. She's not used to men who want to stick around after - it's a pleasant, welcome change. "Whatever you want."
"Not just me." Moe smiles, kissing the top of her head again and, for a brief moment, thinking how nice it would be to have this all the time. "This is about both of us, darlin'."
"You're really not like most men, are you?"
"Guess that depends on which men you're talking about," he says, with a soft smile. His hand slides up to her shoulder so he can rub his thumb over the soft, warm skin there. "Dapper's men...and my partner, George...I'm a lot like them. Dapper and Kitten a little, too, I guess. Other than that..." He shrugs.
"Dapper's always been nice to the girls," Salma says, eyes drifting closed as she enjoys the way he's touching her, like she's something valuable, worth having. "Doesn't mess with us at all, always remembers our names and asks after us...and Kitten was nice. Treated me good the time I's with him. But you..." She nuzzles the underside of his jaw, tasting salty, warm skin. "You're different."
Moe smiles. That sounds just like Orlando. And Kitten...well...Moe hasn't seen the woman yet that Kitten didn't treat like a queen. Even the ones he hates. "Maybe I'm just trying to make an impression on you," he says, with a smile and a wink. "So's you'll stick around."
"Long as you'll have me," she replies softly, looking up, gaze unwavering. She's never felt this instant of a connection with anyone else, and, well, if there's any chance that he might feel even a fraction of what she's feeling, it's enough.
"Well," he says, just as softly, meeting her gaze without flinching. "If I'm having you, you ain't having no one else." He's a little surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth. It's not like he's planned on taking a mistress while he's in Chicago. Hell, Lucky might call 'em home tomorrow.
No one else... Salma stares back, wide-eyed, certain she's misheard him or misunderstood. "What are you trying to say, Moe?" She doesn't dare hope that he really means what she thinks.
"Not trying to say anything." He continues to watch her, trying to guage her reaction. "It's a big decision, but...long as I'm here in Chicago, if you want, you ain't gotta work."
Not work...not have to show up at the club every night and coddle famously spoiled rich men (and a few women) for money... Just the idea of it is almost too much to handle, that anyone would want to be with her full-time, would want her exclusively. "You askin' to take care of me?" she asks, voice husky, low. She feels like crying, and has no idea why.
"Reckon I am," he says, quietly, hand sliding along her arm in slow strokes. "Think maybe...you need someone to take care of you."
"I...I don't know what..." Since her parents've died, no one's ever said those words to her or even offered. The fact that this man - this decent, smart, honorable man (doesn't matter what he does for a living, she knows men of their word when she meets them) - wants to be with her... "Yes," she whispers, throat clogged, as she flings herself almost completely on top of him, holding tight.
'Bout how he figured she'd react. Moe just smiles and wraps both arms around her, holding her tight. "Gonna be alright, darlin'," he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to her temple. "I'll talk to Dapper. You ain't got nothing to worry about now."
She's only known him a night, and she's about to place her life in his hands...and somehow, nothing has ever felt so right in her entire life. "Thank you," she tells him, rubbing her lips across his. "I'll make you proud of me, I swear. You won't regret it." She has no idea what being a powerful man's mistress entails, but she's got friends. Hopefully, they can offer her some sort of advice.
"I know I won't," he says, and smiles. One hand cradles the back of her head and he pulls her down for a soft kiss.
She smiles shyly when she lifts her head. "Hope you know what you're doing," she teases. "I never got any training to be a mistress."
"Ain't that hard," Moe says, and laughs. "Look pretty on my arm when I take you out, enjoy the gifts I buy you, and take care of me when I'm in the mood for a little lovin'. I'll take care of your bills, and you'll have spending money so you're free to do what you want when I'm not around. Except sleep with other men."
"I would never do that to you." Her voice is serious, soft. "I've been with plenty of men, Moe, I know what's out there. I ain't got any wild oats that need sowing. I promise you right now I will never be unfaithful or even give you reason to doubt me."
"That's good enough for me," he says, voice just as soft. The back of his knuckles brush her cheek, and he smiles. "It ain't gonna be awkward for you, is it? Being around Kitten, having slept with him and all?"
"It was an hour," she replies, with a smile. "Don't guess I'm the first woman he's been with that he's had to see again socially, so I think we'll be fine. Are you gonna be alright with it?"
"It's in the past," he shrugs. "Long as you're fine with being around him socially, I won't have a problem at all. And Kitten's too wrapped up in...well...he's too wrapped up to even think about it, really."
"I'm sure he's a busy man," Salma replies, then worries her lower lip between her teeth, trying to think of the best way to ask her next question. She doesn't want to seem jealous - because she's not - but it would help her to know what all she needs to expect. "Are...are your other mistresses going to be upset with you taking me on?" Last thing she wants is a hen-fight with girls who've been with Moe a lot longer.
Moe blinks, then laughs, the sound rumbling up through his chest. Other mistresses. Of all things. "I only got one mistress right now, darlin'," he says, flashing her a grin. "And that's you. I'm just a simple man, and taking on more than one at a time is just sheer lunacy."
Salma's jaw drops as she blinks owlishly at Moe. "But, I'm...not even back in New York...?"
"Nah," he says, chuckling as he puts a finger under her chin and gently closes her mouth. "Had one, but I ended it a few months back. She got to be far too expensive."
"Too many baubles?" Salma asks, brain still whirring, trying to figure out this latest twist. The only mistress...
"Expected one every single time I saw her." His fingers slide through Salma's hair, and he enjoys the feel of the dark strands against his skin. "Plus she was always expecting dinner out at the fanciest places in New York."
Salma frowns, even as she leans into his soft touch. "She never cooked for you?"
"Cooked for..." Moe laughs. "Darlin', she couldn't have boiled water without burning."
"If she didn't take care of you at all, then she wasn't a very good mistress," Salma states. "Any woman can please a man in bed. It takes more to make a good mistress, everyone knows that."
"Is that so?" He looks at her with fond amusement and wonders if she knows how sexy she is when she's all fiesty like this. "So tell me what it takes to make a good mistress."
She's completely in over her head, but she's listened over the years, and she's got a keen eye. So she tosses her head, and settles back on his chest, hands folded under her chin as she looks at him. "It's more than simply looking nice on a man's arm and spreading your legs - you can get that cheap. Mistresses should...they should reflect your status, be an asset. Be able to converse, act accordingly in public, around your friends and peers. They should take care of their men - nice, relaxing home-cooked meals, a clean house, be a place of refuge, listen in private."
"Don't sound much different than a wife," he murmurs, and smiles. His fingers continue to toy with her hair as he watches her. "Think you can be all you said there, darlin'?"
"I know I can," she replies, confidently. "You'll see." However long he's in Chicago, she'll make sure he never has cause to regret this. And when she has to let him go...it'll be with the knowledge that she did the best she could for him.
"Then I reckon the job's yours," he says, completely deadpan even as his eyes twinkle. "If you want it, that is."
"I already said yes," she informs him in a prim tone, eyes narrowing as she pokes his chest with an elegant finger. "As long as you're in Chicago, I'll take care of you."
White teeth flash against dark skin when he grins at her. "Well, then," he says, catching her finger and nipping the tip of it while his other hand slides down to the curve of her ass, pressing her snug against him, "how about you start right now?"
She wiggles against him, practiced and easy. Here, she knows she's an expert. She hopes the rest will come in time. "What'd you have in mind?"
Both hands frame her hips, lifting her a little so he can slide his cock against her slickness. "Think I like you right here," he murmurs, knowing she'll get the hint.
She braces her hands on his chest, pushing up, then back, rocking until the head of his cock is inside her. "Then I suggest you relax," she murmurs with a lazy, seductive smile, "and let me take care of you."
"Be happy to, darlin'," he says, smiling up at her and giving himself over to the exquisite sensation of his cock being enveloped in snug heat.