A Bargain At Any Price
[Takes place right after this, co-written by the muns]
"Gentlemen, will you excuse me a minute?" Salma says, gesturing to one of the other girls to take over her table as soon as she sees Moe start to walk towards her. He'd only left her bed that morning, but already she's missed him.
"How you doin', darlin'?" Moe brushes a light kiss to Salma's cheek, giving her a once over and smiling. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." She smiles up at him and tugs on his tie. "You're looking very dashing yourself." Then she peers past him. "The bosses here for R&R or business?"
"Strictly R&R," he says, and grins. "I expect they'll disappear in a bit, so it's a good thing I talked to Dapper before we got here."
"Talked to Dapper? About what...?" Her voice trails when she realizes what he's trying to tell her. "Are you...you asked him?"
Moe nods, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "And he agreed."
"He...he did?" The smile starts from somewhere deep inside her. "So...I'm yours now? Officially?"
"Officially. All the t's crossed and all the i's dotted." He returns the smile, pleased that he can give her this little bit of happiness.
In answer, she throws her arms around his neck, not caring who's watching. Her cheeks are damp with tears of happiness as she presses small kisses to his neck and chin and cheeks, any part of him she can reach. She'd known, of course, that Orlando would say yes, but hearing that it's truly real?
"I guess this means you're happy about it," Moe teases, laughing as he wraps his arms around her. It's so simple to make her smile that he can't help but wonder what will happen if he goes out tomorrow and buys her a shiny bauble.
"Don't tease." She bats his arm as she beams up at him. "Are you happy about it?"
"Of course I'm happy about it. What kinda silly question is that?" He gives her a baffled look as he takes her arm through his and steers her towards the bar. Women. If he lives to be a hundred, he'll never understand them.
"Just making sure." She leans into him, inhaling his scent. "So...now that it's official and all, what next?"
"Oh, I dunno," he says, pretending to think it over. "Dinner, perhaps?"
"Dinner?" She bats him on the arm again, then places their drink order with the bartender. "Would you be serious for a moment."
"I was being very serious," he says, giving her a mournful look and rubbing his arm. "I'm a bit peckish. And you look like you ain't had a decent meal in...well, in ever."
She glances hurriedly down at herself, then up at him. "Are you trying to say I'm too skinny?" First time she's ever heard that in her life.
Moe manages to look serious for about five seconds. Then his eyes start to twinkle. "No, ma'am, I think you got curves in all the right places."
"Oh. Well, that's alright, then." She glances up at him, hand on her glass, eyes narrowed. "Moe Parks, you were just teasing me, weren't you?"
"Why, darlin', I reckon I was." A wide grin splits his face.
"Oh, you!" She gives him her sternest look, and hides her grin by taking a sip of her drink.
"You love every minute of it," he murmurs, bending to nuzzle at her ear as he reaches for his drink.
She continues to smile, leaning into the distracting touch. "Only because I love you..." she murmurs, then her eyes snap open, and she groans inwardly. Of all the fool things to say...
Moe's eyebrows make a fast climb for his hairline. Well, the hairline he doesn't have. Love? Him? "Well, now," he says, taking care to keep his voice casual, relaxed, "I reckon that's starting things on the right foot, now isn't it?"
"You're...you're not mad?" She hadn't intended on telling him so soon, well, ever, really. She already knows that she's little more than a whim to him, someone to warm his bed, make him forget his troubles. She's certainly not the type of woman that men like him fall for, and, well, she's learned in life to take what she can get.
He blinks at her, startled. "Why on earth would I be mad about that?" Women. Really, they just baffle the hell out of him.
"Well...because you're not in love with me, of course. And now you think I'm just after trapping you. Don't you?"
"Not at all." He smiles and pats her hand. "Once you know me better, you'll realize that ain't no woman gonna trap me, unless I let them. I ain't at all afraid of sayin' no."
"Oh. Well, good, then. Because I'm not." She manages a small smile, shoving the small burst of disappointment aside. She hadn't expected he'd tell her she was wrong or anything...but the little bit of hope that she'd had dies.
For a moment, he studies her face. "Darlin'," he says finally, still smiling. "We just made things official. Much too early to be having a serious discussion like this. You don't even know if you're gonna like having me around enough to want to trap me."
"I know how I feel about you." She lifts her chin, meeting his look calmly. "Now, you don't feel the same, and that's all fine and dandy, but please don't suggest to me that I don't know my own mind or heart. Doesn't matter if it's been a week or a year."
"Salma, that ain't at all what I meant." Moe shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. "And I never said I couldn't feel the same, so you just stop that nonsense. We just got started with all this, so why don't we just let it happen and see where it takes us."
"Well, I wasn't after trying to force you into anything." She cups his cheek, thumb brushing over five o'clock shadow. "You're a good man, Moe. I'm proud to have you however you'd like. And if you'd still like me to be with you, then I'll be with you. I do believe you promised me dinner, yes?"
He throws up his hands, but he's grinning. "Oh, now you believe I wasn't teasing about that."
"Maybe I decided I was hungry," she replies, with a pert grin. Much better. She knows men well enough to know that she's just scared him to death, so best to put things back on the same, easy footing they've been on.
"'Bout time you did," he grumbles good-naturedly, swallowing the rest of his drink and taking her hand. "I'm starving."
"You don't have to take me out, you know," she says, once they're outside. "I like cooking for you."
"And if I want to take you out right now?" He gives her a look. "Maybe I want to show you off."
"Oh." She offers up a small, shy smile, and slips her arm through his. One day she'll learn the proper response.
"Now you just tell me where you want to eat," he says, patting her hand and smiling down at her. She really is just a little slip of a thing.
"Well..." She ponders the question as they stroll down the sidewalk. "If it's not...I mean, if you mean it, I mean...well, I've heard very good things about Louisa's."
"Louisa's it is, then." Moe nods, then looks around. "Uh...how do we get there?"
She laughs, and hails a cab. "It's two blocks from Wrigley."
When the cab stops, he holds open the door for her, then slides in beside her as she tells the driver their destination. "What kinda food they serve there?"
"Italian, I believe. Rumor has it that it's Dapper's favorite place in town."
"Italian, huh?" Figures that Orlando's favorite place to eat would be an Italian restaurant. "Wait'll I take you to this little Italian place back in New York. Best food on earth."
"Is it now?" She smiles, and snuggles against him, enjoying his warmth. "Well, there have been hints that Dapper's thinking about sending me over with the next batch of girls. It'd be nice to have something to look forward to."
Hints, huh? Moe looks down at the top of her head, trying to imagine her fitting into the circles he moves in back home. She'd make a hell of an impression, that's for sure. "You'll love New York, darlin'. Have to take you to see one of the shows one night."
"I've heard those new Radio City Rockette Girls are something else. Maybe...maybe if I'm not working, we could make a night of it." Much as she knows she'll miss him when he goes, at least he'll be around a little bit once she gets sent to New York. And she'll do her damnedest to make certain that she does get sent, too.
He watches her from the corner of his eye. "You know," he murmurs, hand settling on her knee and gently squeezing, "if you're in New York with me, you're with me."
"Well, of course, silly, I certainly wouldn't be with a client if I was with you..." She trails off, studying the quiet way he's looking at her, the possessive hand on her knee. "That's not what you're talking about, is it?"
"No," he says, quietly, eyes locked with hers. "It's not."
She takes a suddenly shaky breath, unable to look away. "Well, then..." Each word is carefully measured. "Why don't you tell me what you are talking about, just so there aren't any misunderstandings."
"I talked to Orlando about maybe taking you back to New York with me when Kitten goes home."
"You...you did? Me...with you, in New York?" She feels like she's dreaming.
"Yeah." He watches her, small smile curving his lips. "Unless you'd prefer letting Kitten squire you around the city."
"Like I would ever prefer Kitten to you," she says, smile watery.
"Well, he makes more money than I do," Moe points out, completely deadpan. "And he's prettier. Even after Dapper gave him that scar."
"If I wanted pretty and rich, I'd already have it," she replies, prim and proper as you please.
"I see. You're angling for ugly and poor," he says, grinning at her expression. "Well, I think I can cover that."
Her smile is gentle as she traces his eyebrows with light fingers. "You're not pretty, that's true. You're something altogether more interesting. I've known many pretty men with souls as black as midnight."
Catching her hand, he brings it down so he can kiss each fingertip. "Hope you're not talking about my boss or Dapper. I might just have to disagree with you if so."
"No, they're good men. As are your friends." She leans in for a soft kiss. "But I fell in love with the best one."
"Keep saying that," he murmurs, laughing softly as he kisses her again, "and I'm gonna have to take you home with me."
"In that case, I love you, Moe Parks." She's still smiling, nuzzling her lips against his, but she means every word. "You and no one else."
"Reckon you're gonna spoil me." His fingers comb through her hair, and he looks up, surprised, when the taxi stops. "Looks like we're here."
"Looks like." She waits as he helps her out of the car, then pays the cabbie, tucking her arm into his again. "Word is that Louisa doesn't tolerate any bigotry in her joint, that she'll serve anyone that's got an appetite and coin. I figured you'd...want to know. Although I'm guessing she'd serve you anyway, just because you know Dapper."
"I appreciate it." Dropping a kiss on top of her head, he opens the door for her. "I figure Dapper ain't gonna frequent no joint that don't serve colored folks."
"He is very loyal to his friends."
The first thing she notices when she steps inside is that the place is tiny. And packed. And it smells like she's died and gone to Heaven. The second thing she notices is the short, fly-away haired older woman that's heading in their direction.
Moe glances around, then puts on his best smile for the woman bearing down on them. "Bet that's Louisa," he murmurs from the corner of his mouth, hand resting in the small of Salma's back.
"You look hungry," Louisa states without preamble, pushing strands of hair behind her ears. "You did bring a healthy appetite, yes?"
"Uh..." Salma glances at Moe quickly, then back at Louisa. "Yes ma'am." For some bizarre reason, she's terrified of saying the wrong thing to this tiny slip of a woman.
"Good." She eyes Moe up and down. "I'll make you my polenta con le spuntature di maiale. Come, have a seat." She turns abruptly, and leads them to a small table in the corner.
Moe holds out a chair for Salma, then sits across from her. Looking up at Louisa, he flashes her his best smile. "Dapper sends his best, ma'am. Said we couldn't go wrong eating here."
Her eyes narrow speculatively. "You're friends with my boy?" Salma hides her smile behind her napkin. She's never once heard anyone refer to Dapper Bloom as a 'boy'.
"Friends from way back," Moe says, grinning. Boy? He'll have to remember that one. "Watched him grow up in New York."
"You must know Samantha and Sonia, then," Louisa replies, nodding in approval. "Sonia would bring the children out to visit me every year. I taught Orlando how to make pasta the Old Way. He's a good boy, always comes by to visit and brings me a bit of business every now and then."
"He's a good man like that," Moe agrees, looking across the table to wink at Salma. "Always looking out for his own. His mama raised him right, that's for sure. She's one of the best women I've ever met."
"That she is." She smiles at both of them. "I think the 1919 L'Evangile and some Minestra Maritata to start. And bread, you both need to eat." With that, she bustles off.
Salma leans in, eyes shining with mirth. "I think she scares me more than my own mother."
"Wait'll you meet Mama Phoenix," Moe says, laughing. "Sweetest woman in the world, but she terrifies the hell out of all us men."
She waits until after a server has come by with their bottle of wine - some red something, she doesn't really know much about them. "What's your mother like?"
"My mama?" Moe sniffs his wine and takes a small sip as the server waits. Thank God for the 'lessons' that Lucky had insisted they all have years ago. "She's a tiny little thing, about your size. Raised four boys by herself after my daddy ran off, and you better believe we toed the line."
"Four boys?" She can't imagine having any siblings at all, let alone so many. She's always envied people with large families, knowing that someone was always out there that had your back. "That must have been tough."
"It was hard, but we made do." Moe smiles a little, remembering growing up, watching from the outside for so long before River pulled him into his little group. "My oldest brother became a doctor if you can believe that."
She takes a small sip of the wine. It's surprisingly crisp. "Your family must be very proud of him. They must be proud of you, too."
"Eh, more proud of him than me," Moe admits with a grin. "Lot of what I do ain't exactly respectable."
"You protect your friend and his interests. I'd say that's very respectable."
"That part is. The methods aren't always." He shrugs, at ease with the things he has to do. "It's better than some things, though, and it helped the family out a lot while my younger brothers were growing up."
"As I said." She takes his hand across the table, smiles into warm, brown eyes. "You're a good man. Whether you think you are or not."
"I'm glad you think so, darlin'," he says, smiling as his fingers curl over hers.
Another server hurries by with two steaming bowls of thick soup, and a slab of bread and butter. Salma takes an appreciative sniff. "If this tastes half as good as this smells, it's a wonder that Dapper doesn't eat here every night. And that he doesn't weigh 500 lbs."
Moe laughs. "It's a wonder neither one of 'em are 500 lbs. They eat like pigs. Not me, though," he says, picking up his spoon and winking at her again. "I gotta maintain my girlish figure here."
"Ah, but you're forgetting, I've seen you eat," Salma laughs, waving her spoon at him before dipping it in the soup. If possible, it tastes even better than it smells.
Moe almost moans at the first mouthful of soup. Swallowing it, he flashes her a wide grin. "That was breakfast, darlin'. Gotta eat a big meal to start the day."
She tears off a chunk of bread. "Pull the other one. If you don't clean your plate, I'll eat your hat."
Doing his best to look innocent, Moe rubs one hand over his scalp. "Well, I ain't wearing a hat, but you're on. Though I reckon you'll be cleaning your plate just as fast, missy. I seen you eat."
She gives him a haughty smile over her next bite. "My people pride themselves on women with healthy appetites. And I've yet to hear you complain."
"Oh, I ain't complaining at all," he says after swallowing another spoonful of soup. "I like a woman who knows what she wants and enjoys it."
"Good." She all but purrs the word. "Because I definitely know what I want."
His smile is slow and wicked. "Guess that makes two of us then."
They've no more than put their spoons down when Louisa's at the table, two full plates in hand. Salma has no idea what's on them, but, again, the smell is divine. "My special polenta con le spuntature di maiale," Louisa states, and sweeps their empty bowls off the table. "Eat up, and perhaps I'll let you have some of my tiramisu for dessert."
"That would be heavenly, ma'am." Salma has no idea what tiramisu is, but it sounds delicious. "Thank you." Although she does wonder how she can possibly eat all of the food in front of her.
"If this is good as it smells, I may never leave," Moe says, smiling up at Louisa. He heaves a happy sigh, inhaling the fragrant steam coming off his plate.
"It's better," Louisa replies with a saucy wink, and hurries off to tend to one of the other tables. Salma picks up her fork, then pauses. "Moe...what is this?"
He chuckles, already digging into his food. "Polenta with pork ribs. You'll like it."
"Polenta?" she asks, but figures it doesn't matter much. The first bite, tart and tangy and filled with spices too many to name, only drive the matter home.
Moe swallows and takes a sip of his wine. "It's kinda like corn meal, only thicker. Good stuff." He takes another bite and makes a happy sound.
"Meet up to your fancy New York standards?" Salma teases around another bite.
"Of course," he retorts, with a wink. No way he's saying anything different. It might not be quite as good as back home, but it's damn good. "What do you think?"
"I think I want to get her recipe is what I think." She's having a hard time differentiating between the spices and it's driving her a little crazy.
"Good luck with that," Moe laughs. "I can have Dapper ask her if you want."
"I doubt even his charm could get that recipe," she grins. "I know how protective I am."
"Well, if anyone can get it out of her, it'd be him," Moe says. He watches her for a moment, admiring her grin.
She glances up, catches his stare, and automatically pats her hair to see if it's out of place. "What is it? I don't have anything on my dress, so I?" she asks, checking to be sure.
"No, just thinking how pretty you look right now," he replies, smiling at her nervous gestures.
"I do? I mean, thank you." She wonders if she'll ever get used to being complimented by him.
"You're welcome." He smiles again at the startled look that flits across her face. It makes him wonder just how often people truly compliment her.
She keeps stealing shy glances and smiles at him as they both keep eating. The wine complements the meal, bringing out even more flavor, and the more she drinks, the more she relaxes. This is real. Moe wants her. No matter how crazy it sounds, it's actually true.
Scraping the last bit of his food from his plate, Moe chews slowly, savoring the richness of the meal. Nothing better than enjoying a good meal with a beautiful woman. "That," he says, smiling at Salma, "was delicious. Hope you saved room for dessert."
She groans, and puts a hand on her stomach. "I don't see how I could possibly eat anything else."
He chuckles. "Sure about that? Tiramisu's about the best thing you can put in your mouth."
"The best thing?"
"About the best," he says, grinning. Then he leans forward, arms braced on the table. "Least in public, anyway."
"Just wait," she murmurs, and leans forward herself, meeting his kiss halfway. He tastes spicy and masculine.
"Looking forward to it," he says, voice soft and husky as he sits back, eyes glittering.
"Very good," Louisa says with approval, when she walks up to the table. "Tiramisu and coffee?"
"Of course." Moe lounges back in his chair and pats his belly. "Just one tiramisu, though, please. The lady and I will be sharing it."
"Of course," Louisa replies, like she hadn't expected any other answer. "It's a dessert best shared between lovers. I'll be right back."
Salma watches her take the empty plates and leave before smiling softly at Moe. "I like that she called us that. Lovers. Sort of sounds...classy."
"It's what we are, darlin'," he says, reaching across the table to take her hand. "All official and everything."
"Official." She tests the word out on her tongue, likes the sound of it. His hand easily dwarfs hers. Yet, she knows that he'll never hurt her or raise a hand to her. His strength is one she can depend on.
"Definitely. Dapper's put his stamp on it." He smiles, gently squeezing her fingers before sitting back when Louisa returns with the tiramisu and coffee.
Salma continues to smile at Moe and hold his hand as Louisa fusses over them, setting the plate and saucers on the table, and telling that she expects an empty plate. "I think she's warming to us," Salma laughs, once Louisa's out of earshot.
"Think that's a good thing," Moe grins. He gets a bit of the tiramisu on his fork and holds it out for Salma. "Try this, and tell me it's not a bit of heaven on earth."
Salma obligingly parts her lips. The taste - sweet, creamy and rich - is like nothing else she's ever had. "Oh, my God..." Her eyes are wide when they fly up to meet Moe's amused ones.
"Told you." He winks, taking his own bite. Fuck all, but it's good. "One of the best things you can put in your mouth. Kitten turned me on to it years ago."
"It's ambrosia. I can't believe people aren't lined up around the block for a bite."
"Just as glad they aren't. Means there's more for us." He offers her another bite, smiling as he watches her eat.
"They can get their own," Salma replies, with a smile, taking the next bite eagerly.
"Exactly," Moe murmurs. "I plan on being very greedy..."
Dark eyes meet his as Salma makes a show of licking her bottom lip. "Maybe I like you greedy."
Moe's nostrils flare, and it's all he can do to not reach across and drag her to him. "Good," he says, catching her hand and rubbing his thumb over the pulse throbbing in her wrist.
"Moe..." She licks her lip again, pulse fluttering, breath caught in her throat. Need and love, so much of it, swamps her.
He chuckles, low and wicked, and continues to rub the same spot. "Problems, darlin'?"
"No problem at all," she murmurs, sliding her foot up his calf under the tablecloth. He may make her feel like no one else ever has, but that doesn't mean that she's forgotten how to tease in turn. "In fact, I'd say things are damn near perfect."
"Oh, I think they could get even better," he says, body tightening as her foot continues to move up his leg. Teasing him like this in public...he likes that. "Best finish dessert first, though..."
"Well, best to see about feeding me then." She parts her lips obligingly and leans in, arms pressed so her breasts are pressed together, cleavage enticingly displayed.
"Minx," he murmurs fondly as he scoops up another bit of tiramisu and feeds it to her, eyes drawn to the way her lips close around the fork before dropping to admire the shadowed cleft between lush breasts.
"Flatterer," she replies, smiling. "Wouldn't be with me if you didn't love it." And one day, God willing, he'll fall for her like she did him.
"Well, of course I do," he says, returning the smile. "I love a woman with a bit of sass in her."
"Then you've definitely hooked up with the right one," she tells him, taking the last offered bite with a lustful moan of appreciation.
Her moan shoots through him, settling in his crotch, and Moe knows that there will be no disguising his condition when they walk out of the restaurant. To hell with it. He pulls a handful of bills out of his wallet (more than enough to cover the bill and leave a very generous tip) and tosses them on the table. Swallowing the rest of his coffee, he stands and pulls Salma up with him. "Come on," he growls, managing a smile as he nods to Louisa.
Salma gives Louisa her own sunny smile, and snuggles in as close to Moe as possible. She doesn't even need to glance down at the tale-tell bulge behind his fly to know why he's in such an all-fired hurry to leave. To tell the truth, she's just as eager to get her hands on him, to give herself.
Once outside, he hails a taxi and bundles her into it. When she tries to slide across the seat, he grabs her and hauls her into his lap. "Give him your address, darlin'," he murmurs, lips already sliding up the column of her throat.
She rattles off the street and number, then clutches his shoulders, sliding closer. His lips feel like fire on her skin. "Please..."
"Patience," Moe whispers, teeth catching her ear. One hand slides up her side to cup her breast, thumb sliding over the nipple. "Gonna take real good care of you..."
She gasps, head falling on his shoulder. Need sparks through her, making speech impossible. How much longer can it take to get to her house?
Moe wonders if the driver can sense their urgency. It seems like only minutes before they've stopped in front of Salma's house. He hands the driver a few bills as Salma slides from the cab, then follows her. "Hurry," he murmurs, hands spanning her waist as he presses against her from behind while she tries to unlock the door.
She fumbles with the key, and practically yanks him inside when she gets the door open. She twists in his arms, lips on his the second they're finally in the house, alone and private, with the entire night stretched before them. She's never known need like what she feels for him.
Kicking the door shut behind them, Moe fumbles the lock into place and then presses her up against the wall. There's time for nicety and romance later. Right now, he's far more interested in feeling her.
"Please," she murmurs, desperate, heated, tearing at his jacket and shirt. She needs skin on skin contact, needs him inside her, claiming her.
He lifts her a little, pulling her feet off the floor, as one hand starts to bunch her dress, pulling it higher with each twitch of his fingers. "Gonna make you feel good," he murmurs, lips moving over her throat again, and he's practically shaking with the need to be inside her.
"Better," she promises them both, and yanks at the buttons of his fly, fingers curling around his cock as soon as it bobs free. "Now...please..."
"With pleasure," he growls, nipping at her throat as he shoves her dress up and yanks her underwear aside. In one smooth thrust he's inside her, gripped tight by slick walls, and it's enough to make him groan against her skin.
The first sharp thrust takes her breath, the second stops her heart. She muffles her sob against his lips as she tightens her ankles around his back, pulling him in even closer, mouth hungry, heated, on his. She's never known want like this.
"So beautiful like this," he murmurs, hands cupping her ass as he settles into a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing her up the wall. "Love the way you feel around me..."
"Love you...so much, God, so much..." More, she needs more...
His hands grip almost tight enough to leave bruises. The way she moves with him, on him, steals his breath. He murmurs to her, nonsense words, and slides his lips over hers, tongues tangling as he angles his hips and thrusts deeper.
He's so thick inside her, so hard. It's all she can do to hang on, move with him, match each thrust with a counter-thrust of her own. His kiss is hard, possessive, claims her as much as his cock.
"Come for me, darlin'..." She's so tight around him, so wet, body begging for more with each thrust. He gives her what she asks for, bending his head to nuzzle at her breast through the thin material of her dress, feeling the nipple swell against his lips.
Her body shudders, muscles clamping tight around him as she lets go, his name a wordless groan on her lips.
"So beautiful," he whispers, fingers digging tight into lush hips. One thrust, then another, and he comes with a harsh groan, the feel of her clutching him tight too much.
She sucks in one breath, then another, pleased that her lungs are actually working. She'd been unsure for a few moments. "God," she manages, resting her forehead against his, smiling in spite of the fact that she can still barely feel her limbs and she's got to be heavy.
He chuckles in her ear. "Not sure he had much to do with it," he says, voice rough as he tries to control his breathing. Pulling away from the wall, arms wrapped snug around her, he starts towards the bedroom.
"No," she says, wrapping her arms around his neck, looking deep into his eyes, "God gave you to me. And I'm grateful beyond measure to Him for it."
Moe can't argue with that. So he just smiles and kisses her softly. "Alright, darlin'," he murmurs as he gently tumbles her onto the bed.
"Still dressed," she chuckles, stretching on the covers as she looks up at him. "And I like you naked."
"Oh, I'm gonna take care of that," Moe grins, already working on the buttons of his shirt. "Then I'm gonna take care of you."
"Thought you just did." She sits up, pushing his hands out of the way so she can unbutton his shirt, smoothing fingers over muscle and skin. So much strength and power, and all of it hers.
"That was just the start," he says. Smiling, he reaches out to push the straps of her dress off her shoulders, fingertips skimming the tops of her breasts.
"You keep spoiling me like this, and you'll just have to take me to New York with you, 'cause I won't be fit for no one else," she smiles, rising to her knees to pull her dress off, tossing it aside, baring herself to his gaze.
"Might be I'll take you to New York with me anyway," he murmurs, laughing softly as he weighs a breast in one hand, gaze sweeping over her lush curves. "Even if you ain't spoiled."
"Might be I'm not planning on giving you a choice," she replies, arching her back so he can touch more of her.
"Darlin'..." His fingers trail down her ribcage to her waist, teasing soft and supple skin. He smiles when she looks up at him. "I ain't asking for a choice."
Her breath catches at the look in his eyes. "You mean it?" she asks softly, afraid to raise her voice.
"Don't say things I don't mean," he replies, sliding his hand up to cup her breast again.
She knows her entire heart is in her eyes for Moe to see, but she doesn't care. Welcomes it, actually. "Make you so proud of me," she tells him, sighing into the touch. "I love you." The words come easier, now that she knows he's not rejecting it. The rest will, God willing, come in time.
"Already proud of you," he says with a smile. Catching her hand, he pulls her up into his arms. "Handled yourself at dinner just like it was some big society event."
"I like being with you," she smiles, draping her arms over his shoulders as she scoots closer. "And I bet charming those high-class folks in New York won't be any different than it is here. Just gotta know when to smile and nod and reply."
"That's about it." He grins, arms wrapped snug around her slender waist. Her curves fit him just fine. "And with Kitten's stamp of approval on you, ain't no one gonna dare to be less than nice to you."
"I can handle myself. Don't you worry about me."
"Oh, I ain't worried at all." Another grin as he shrugs out of his shirt, tumbling her onto her back and following her down. "Way I see it, New York ain't gonna know how to deal with you."
"Long as you can handle me, New York can take care of itself," she purrs, pushing down on his pants, needing to feel skin on skin.
Moe smiles against her skin, hands skimming over her hips as he wiggles out of his pants and boxers. "How 'bout we handle each other?"
"Long as you'll have me," she smiles, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him down to her.
"That," he murmurs, shifting a little to slide into her welcoming heat, lips brushing hers, "could be a long time..."
***
"Gentlemen, will you excuse me a minute?" Salma says, gesturing to one of the other girls to take over her table as soon as she sees Moe start to walk towards her. He'd only left her bed that morning, but already she's missed him.
"How you doin', darlin'?" Moe brushes a light kiss to Salma's cheek, giving her a once over and smiling. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." She smiles up at him and tugs on his tie. "You're looking very dashing yourself." Then she peers past him. "The bosses here for R&R or business?"
"Strictly R&R," he says, and grins. "I expect they'll disappear in a bit, so it's a good thing I talked to Dapper before we got here."
"Talked to Dapper? About what...?" Her voice trails when she realizes what he's trying to tell her. "Are you...you asked him?"
Moe nods, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "And he agreed."
"He...he did?" The smile starts from somewhere deep inside her. "So...I'm yours now? Officially?"
"Officially. All the t's crossed and all the i's dotted." He returns the smile, pleased that he can give her this little bit of happiness.
In answer, she throws her arms around his neck, not caring who's watching. Her cheeks are damp with tears of happiness as she presses small kisses to his neck and chin and cheeks, any part of him she can reach. She'd known, of course, that Orlando would say yes, but hearing that it's truly real?
"I guess this means you're happy about it," Moe teases, laughing as he wraps his arms around her. It's so simple to make her smile that he can't help but wonder what will happen if he goes out tomorrow and buys her a shiny bauble.
"Don't tease." She bats his arm as she beams up at him. "Are you happy about it?"
"Of course I'm happy about it. What kinda silly question is that?" He gives her a baffled look as he takes her arm through his and steers her towards the bar. Women. If he lives to be a hundred, he'll never understand them.
"Just making sure." She leans into him, inhaling his scent. "So...now that it's official and all, what next?"
"Oh, I dunno," he says, pretending to think it over. "Dinner, perhaps?"
"Dinner?" She bats him on the arm again, then places their drink order with the bartender. "Would you be serious for a moment."
"I was being very serious," he says, giving her a mournful look and rubbing his arm. "I'm a bit peckish. And you look like you ain't had a decent meal in...well, in ever."
She glances hurriedly down at herself, then up at him. "Are you trying to say I'm too skinny?" First time she's ever heard that in her life.
Moe manages to look serious for about five seconds. Then his eyes start to twinkle. "No, ma'am, I think you got curves in all the right places."
"Oh. Well, that's alright, then." She glances up at him, hand on her glass, eyes narrowed. "Moe Parks, you were just teasing me, weren't you?"
"Why, darlin', I reckon I was." A wide grin splits his face.
"Oh, you!" She gives him her sternest look, and hides her grin by taking a sip of her drink.
"You love every minute of it," he murmurs, bending to nuzzle at her ear as he reaches for his drink.
She continues to smile, leaning into the distracting touch. "Only because I love you..." she murmurs, then her eyes snap open, and she groans inwardly. Of all the fool things to say...
Moe's eyebrows make a fast climb for his hairline. Well, the hairline he doesn't have. Love? Him? "Well, now," he says, taking care to keep his voice casual, relaxed, "I reckon that's starting things on the right foot, now isn't it?"
"You're...you're not mad?" She hadn't intended on telling him so soon, well, ever, really. She already knows that she's little more than a whim to him, someone to warm his bed, make him forget his troubles. She's certainly not the type of woman that men like him fall for, and, well, she's learned in life to take what she can get.
He blinks at her, startled. "Why on earth would I be mad about that?" Women. Really, they just baffle the hell out of him.
"Well...because you're not in love with me, of course. And now you think I'm just after trapping you. Don't you?"
"Not at all." He smiles and pats her hand. "Once you know me better, you'll realize that ain't no woman gonna trap me, unless I let them. I ain't at all afraid of sayin' no."
"Oh. Well, good, then. Because I'm not." She manages a small smile, shoving the small burst of disappointment aside. She hadn't expected he'd tell her she was wrong or anything...but the little bit of hope that she'd had dies.
For a moment, he studies her face. "Darlin'," he says finally, still smiling. "We just made things official. Much too early to be having a serious discussion like this. You don't even know if you're gonna like having me around enough to want to trap me."
"I know how I feel about you." She lifts her chin, meeting his look calmly. "Now, you don't feel the same, and that's all fine and dandy, but please don't suggest to me that I don't know my own mind or heart. Doesn't matter if it's been a week or a year."
"Salma, that ain't at all what I meant." Moe shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. "And I never said I couldn't feel the same, so you just stop that nonsense. We just got started with all this, so why don't we just let it happen and see where it takes us."
"Well, I wasn't after trying to force you into anything." She cups his cheek, thumb brushing over five o'clock shadow. "You're a good man, Moe. I'm proud to have you however you'd like. And if you'd still like me to be with you, then I'll be with you. I do believe you promised me dinner, yes?"
He throws up his hands, but he's grinning. "Oh, now you believe I wasn't teasing about that."
"Maybe I decided I was hungry," she replies, with a pert grin. Much better. She knows men well enough to know that she's just scared him to death, so best to put things back on the same, easy footing they've been on.
"'Bout time you did," he grumbles good-naturedly, swallowing the rest of his drink and taking her hand. "I'm starving."
"You don't have to take me out, you know," she says, once they're outside. "I like cooking for you."
"And if I want to take you out right now?" He gives her a look. "Maybe I want to show you off."
"Oh." She offers up a small, shy smile, and slips her arm through his. One day she'll learn the proper response.
"Now you just tell me where you want to eat," he says, patting her hand and smiling down at her. She really is just a little slip of a thing.
"Well..." She ponders the question as they stroll down the sidewalk. "If it's not...I mean, if you mean it, I mean...well, I've heard very good things about Louisa's."
"Louisa's it is, then." Moe nods, then looks around. "Uh...how do we get there?"
She laughs, and hails a cab. "It's two blocks from Wrigley."
When the cab stops, he holds open the door for her, then slides in beside her as she tells the driver their destination. "What kinda food they serve there?"
"Italian, I believe. Rumor has it that it's Dapper's favorite place in town."
"Italian, huh?" Figures that Orlando's favorite place to eat would be an Italian restaurant. "Wait'll I take you to this little Italian place back in New York. Best food on earth."
"Is it now?" She smiles, and snuggles against him, enjoying his warmth. "Well, there have been hints that Dapper's thinking about sending me over with the next batch of girls. It'd be nice to have something to look forward to."
Hints, huh? Moe looks down at the top of her head, trying to imagine her fitting into the circles he moves in back home. She'd make a hell of an impression, that's for sure. "You'll love New York, darlin'. Have to take you to see one of the shows one night."
"I've heard those new Radio City Rockette Girls are something else. Maybe...maybe if I'm not working, we could make a night of it." Much as she knows she'll miss him when he goes, at least he'll be around a little bit once she gets sent to New York. And she'll do her damnedest to make certain that she does get sent, too.
He watches her from the corner of his eye. "You know," he murmurs, hand settling on her knee and gently squeezing, "if you're in New York with me, you're with me."
"Well, of course, silly, I certainly wouldn't be with a client if I was with you..." She trails off, studying the quiet way he's looking at her, the possessive hand on her knee. "That's not what you're talking about, is it?"
"No," he says, quietly, eyes locked with hers. "It's not."
She takes a suddenly shaky breath, unable to look away. "Well, then..." Each word is carefully measured. "Why don't you tell me what you are talking about, just so there aren't any misunderstandings."
"I talked to Orlando about maybe taking you back to New York with me when Kitten goes home."
"You...you did? Me...with you, in New York?" She feels like she's dreaming.
"Yeah." He watches her, small smile curving his lips. "Unless you'd prefer letting Kitten squire you around the city."
"Like I would ever prefer Kitten to you," she says, smile watery.
"Well, he makes more money than I do," Moe points out, completely deadpan. "And he's prettier. Even after Dapper gave him that scar."
"If I wanted pretty and rich, I'd already have it," she replies, prim and proper as you please.
"I see. You're angling for ugly and poor," he says, grinning at her expression. "Well, I think I can cover that."
Her smile is gentle as she traces his eyebrows with light fingers. "You're not pretty, that's true. You're something altogether more interesting. I've known many pretty men with souls as black as midnight."
Catching her hand, he brings it down so he can kiss each fingertip. "Hope you're not talking about my boss or Dapper. I might just have to disagree with you if so."
"No, they're good men. As are your friends." She leans in for a soft kiss. "But I fell in love with the best one."
"Keep saying that," he murmurs, laughing softly as he kisses her again, "and I'm gonna have to take you home with me."
"In that case, I love you, Moe Parks." She's still smiling, nuzzling her lips against his, but she means every word. "You and no one else."
"Reckon you're gonna spoil me." His fingers comb through her hair, and he looks up, surprised, when the taxi stops. "Looks like we're here."
"Looks like." She waits as he helps her out of the car, then pays the cabbie, tucking her arm into his again. "Word is that Louisa doesn't tolerate any bigotry in her joint, that she'll serve anyone that's got an appetite and coin. I figured you'd...want to know. Although I'm guessing she'd serve you anyway, just because you know Dapper."
"I appreciate it." Dropping a kiss on top of her head, he opens the door for her. "I figure Dapper ain't gonna frequent no joint that don't serve colored folks."
"He is very loyal to his friends."
The first thing she notices when she steps inside is that the place is tiny. And packed. And it smells like she's died and gone to Heaven. The second thing she notices is the short, fly-away haired older woman that's heading in their direction.
Moe glances around, then puts on his best smile for the woman bearing down on them. "Bet that's Louisa," he murmurs from the corner of his mouth, hand resting in the small of Salma's back.
"You look hungry," Louisa states without preamble, pushing strands of hair behind her ears. "You did bring a healthy appetite, yes?"
"Uh..." Salma glances at Moe quickly, then back at Louisa. "Yes ma'am." For some bizarre reason, she's terrified of saying the wrong thing to this tiny slip of a woman.
"Good." She eyes Moe up and down. "I'll make you my polenta con le spuntature di maiale. Come, have a seat." She turns abruptly, and leads them to a small table in the corner.
Moe holds out a chair for Salma, then sits across from her. Looking up at Louisa, he flashes her his best smile. "Dapper sends his best, ma'am. Said we couldn't go wrong eating here."
Her eyes narrow speculatively. "You're friends with my boy?" Salma hides her smile behind her napkin. She's never once heard anyone refer to Dapper Bloom as a 'boy'.
"Friends from way back," Moe says, grinning. Boy? He'll have to remember that one. "Watched him grow up in New York."
"You must know Samantha and Sonia, then," Louisa replies, nodding in approval. "Sonia would bring the children out to visit me every year. I taught Orlando how to make pasta the Old Way. He's a good boy, always comes by to visit and brings me a bit of business every now and then."
"He's a good man like that," Moe agrees, looking across the table to wink at Salma. "Always looking out for his own. His mama raised him right, that's for sure. She's one of the best women I've ever met."
"That she is." She smiles at both of them. "I think the 1919 L'Evangile and some Minestra Maritata to start. And bread, you both need to eat." With that, she bustles off.
Salma leans in, eyes shining with mirth. "I think she scares me more than my own mother."
"Wait'll you meet Mama Phoenix," Moe says, laughing. "Sweetest woman in the world, but she terrifies the hell out of all us men."
She waits until after a server has come by with their bottle of wine - some red something, she doesn't really know much about them. "What's your mother like?"
"My mama?" Moe sniffs his wine and takes a small sip as the server waits. Thank God for the 'lessons' that Lucky had insisted they all have years ago. "She's a tiny little thing, about your size. Raised four boys by herself after my daddy ran off, and you better believe we toed the line."
"Four boys?" She can't imagine having any siblings at all, let alone so many. She's always envied people with large families, knowing that someone was always out there that had your back. "That must have been tough."
"It was hard, but we made do." Moe smiles a little, remembering growing up, watching from the outside for so long before River pulled him into his little group. "My oldest brother became a doctor if you can believe that."
She takes a small sip of the wine. It's surprisingly crisp. "Your family must be very proud of him. They must be proud of you, too."
"Eh, more proud of him than me," Moe admits with a grin. "Lot of what I do ain't exactly respectable."
"You protect your friend and his interests. I'd say that's very respectable."
"That part is. The methods aren't always." He shrugs, at ease with the things he has to do. "It's better than some things, though, and it helped the family out a lot while my younger brothers were growing up."
"As I said." She takes his hand across the table, smiles into warm, brown eyes. "You're a good man. Whether you think you are or not."
"I'm glad you think so, darlin'," he says, smiling as his fingers curl over hers.
Another server hurries by with two steaming bowls of thick soup, and a slab of bread and butter. Salma takes an appreciative sniff. "If this tastes half as good as this smells, it's a wonder that Dapper doesn't eat here every night. And that he doesn't weigh 500 lbs."
Moe laughs. "It's a wonder neither one of 'em are 500 lbs. They eat like pigs. Not me, though," he says, picking up his spoon and winking at her again. "I gotta maintain my girlish figure here."
"Ah, but you're forgetting, I've seen you eat," Salma laughs, waving her spoon at him before dipping it in the soup. If possible, it tastes even better than it smells.
Moe almost moans at the first mouthful of soup. Swallowing it, he flashes her a wide grin. "That was breakfast, darlin'. Gotta eat a big meal to start the day."
She tears off a chunk of bread. "Pull the other one. If you don't clean your plate, I'll eat your hat."
Doing his best to look innocent, Moe rubs one hand over his scalp. "Well, I ain't wearing a hat, but you're on. Though I reckon you'll be cleaning your plate just as fast, missy. I seen you eat."
She gives him a haughty smile over her next bite. "My people pride themselves on women with healthy appetites. And I've yet to hear you complain."
"Oh, I ain't complaining at all," he says after swallowing another spoonful of soup. "I like a woman who knows what she wants and enjoys it."
"Good." She all but purrs the word. "Because I definitely know what I want."
His smile is slow and wicked. "Guess that makes two of us then."
They've no more than put their spoons down when Louisa's at the table, two full plates in hand. Salma has no idea what's on them, but, again, the smell is divine. "My special polenta con le spuntature di maiale," Louisa states, and sweeps their empty bowls off the table. "Eat up, and perhaps I'll let you have some of my tiramisu for dessert."
"That would be heavenly, ma'am." Salma has no idea what tiramisu is, but it sounds delicious. "Thank you." Although she does wonder how she can possibly eat all of the food in front of her.
"If this is good as it smells, I may never leave," Moe says, smiling up at Louisa. He heaves a happy sigh, inhaling the fragrant steam coming off his plate.
"It's better," Louisa replies with a saucy wink, and hurries off to tend to one of the other tables. Salma picks up her fork, then pauses. "Moe...what is this?"
He chuckles, already digging into his food. "Polenta with pork ribs. You'll like it."
"Polenta?" she asks, but figures it doesn't matter much. The first bite, tart and tangy and filled with spices too many to name, only drive the matter home.
Moe swallows and takes a sip of his wine. "It's kinda like corn meal, only thicker. Good stuff." He takes another bite and makes a happy sound.
"Meet up to your fancy New York standards?" Salma teases around another bite.
"Of course," he retorts, with a wink. No way he's saying anything different. It might not be quite as good as back home, but it's damn good. "What do you think?"
"I think I want to get her recipe is what I think." She's having a hard time differentiating between the spices and it's driving her a little crazy.
"Good luck with that," Moe laughs. "I can have Dapper ask her if you want."
"I doubt even his charm could get that recipe," she grins. "I know how protective I am."
"Well, if anyone can get it out of her, it'd be him," Moe says. He watches her for a moment, admiring her grin.
She glances up, catches his stare, and automatically pats her hair to see if it's out of place. "What is it? I don't have anything on my dress, so I?" she asks, checking to be sure.
"No, just thinking how pretty you look right now," he replies, smiling at her nervous gestures.
"I do? I mean, thank you." She wonders if she'll ever get used to being complimented by him.
"You're welcome." He smiles again at the startled look that flits across her face. It makes him wonder just how often people truly compliment her.
She keeps stealing shy glances and smiles at him as they both keep eating. The wine complements the meal, bringing out even more flavor, and the more she drinks, the more she relaxes. This is real. Moe wants her. No matter how crazy it sounds, it's actually true.
Scraping the last bit of his food from his plate, Moe chews slowly, savoring the richness of the meal. Nothing better than enjoying a good meal with a beautiful woman. "That," he says, smiling at Salma, "was delicious. Hope you saved room for dessert."
She groans, and puts a hand on her stomach. "I don't see how I could possibly eat anything else."
He chuckles. "Sure about that? Tiramisu's about the best thing you can put in your mouth."
"The best thing?"
"About the best," he says, grinning. Then he leans forward, arms braced on the table. "Least in public, anyway."
"Just wait," she murmurs, and leans forward herself, meeting his kiss halfway. He tastes spicy and masculine.
"Looking forward to it," he says, voice soft and husky as he sits back, eyes glittering.
"Very good," Louisa says with approval, when she walks up to the table. "Tiramisu and coffee?"
"Of course." Moe lounges back in his chair and pats his belly. "Just one tiramisu, though, please. The lady and I will be sharing it."
"Of course," Louisa replies, like she hadn't expected any other answer. "It's a dessert best shared between lovers. I'll be right back."
Salma watches her take the empty plates and leave before smiling softly at Moe. "I like that she called us that. Lovers. Sort of sounds...classy."
"It's what we are, darlin'," he says, reaching across the table to take her hand. "All official and everything."
"Official." She tests the word out on her tongue, likes the sound of it. His hand easily dwarfs hers. Yet, she knows that he'll never hurt her or raise a hand to her. His strength is one she can depend on.
"Definitely. Dapper's put his stamp on it." He smiles, gently squeezing her fingers before sitting back when Louisa returns with the tiramisu and coffee.
Salma continues to smile at Moe and hold his hand as Louisa fusses over them, setting the plate and saucers on the table, and telling that she expects an empty plate. "I think she's warming to us," Salma laughs, once Louisa's out of earshot.
"Think that's a good thing," Moe grins. He gets a bit of the tiramisu on his fork and holds it out for Salma. "Try this, and tell me it's not a bit of heaven on earth."
Salma obligingly parts her lips. The taste - sweet, creamy and rich - is like nothing else she's ever had. "Oh, my God..." Her eyes are wide when they fly up to meet Moe's amused ones.
"Told you." He winks, taking his own bite. Fuck all, but it's good. "One of the best things you can put in your mouth. Kitten turned me on to it years ago."
"It's ambrosia. I can't believe people aren't lined up around the block for a bite."
"Just as glad they aren't. Means there's more for us." He offers her another bite, smiling as he watches her eat.
"They can get their own," Salma replies, with a smile, taking the next bite eagerly.
"Exactly," Moe murmurs. "I plan on being very greedy..."
Dark eyes meet his as Salma makes a show of licking her bottom lip. "Maybe I like you greedy."
Moe's nostrils flare, and it's all he can do to not reach across and drag her to him. "Good," he says, catching her hand and rubbing his thumb over the pulse throbbing in her wrist.
"Moe..." She licks her lip again, pulse fluttering, breath caught in her throat. Need and love, so much of it, swamps her.
He chuckles, low and wicked, and continues to rub the same spot. "Problems, darlin'?"
"No problem at all," she murmurs, sliding her foot up his calf under the tablecloth. He may make her feel like no one else ever has, but that doesn't mean that she's forgotten how to tease in turn. "In fact, I'd say things are damn near perfect."
"Oh, I think they could get even better," he says, body tightening as her foot continues to move up his leg. Teasing him like this in public...he likes that. "Best finish dessert first, though..."
"Well, best to see about feeding me then." She parts her lips obligingly and leans in, arms pressed so her breasts are pressed together, cleavage enticingly displayed.
"Minx," he murmurs fondly as he scoops up another bit of tiramisu and feeds it to her, eyes drawn to the way her lips close around the fork before dropping to admire the shadowed cleft between lush breasts.
"Flatterer," she replies, smiling. "Wouldn't be with me if you didn't love it." And one day, God willing, he'll fall for her like she did him.
"Well, of course I do," he says, returning the smile. "I love a woman with a bit of sass in her."
"Then you've definitely hooked up with the right one," she tells him, taking the last offered bite with a lustful moan of appreciation.
Her moan shoots through him, settling in his crotch, and Moe knows that there will be no disguising his condition when they walk out of the restaurant. To hell with it. He pulls a handful of bills out of his wallet (more than enough to cover the bill and leave a very generous tip) and tosses them on the table. Swallowing the rest of his coffee, he stands and pulls Salma up with him. "Come on," he growls, managing a smile as he nods to Louisa.
Salma gives Louisa her own sunny smile, and snuggles in as close to Moe as possible. She doesn't even need to glance down at the tale-tell bulge behind his fly to know why he's in such an all-fired hurry to leave. To tell the truth, she's just as eager to get her hands on him, to give herself.
Once outside, he hails a taxi and bundles her into it. When she tries to slide across the seat, he grabs her and hauls her into his lap. "Give him your address, darlin'," he murmurs, lips already sliding up the column of her throat.
She rattles off the street and number, then clutches his shoulders, sliding closer. His lips feel like fire on her skin. "Please..."
"Patience," Moe whispers, teeth catching her ear. One hand slides up her side to cup her breast, thumb sliding over the nipple. "Gonna take real good care of you..."
She gasps, head falling on his shoulder. Need sparks through her, making speech impossible. How much longer can it take to get to her house?
Moe wonders if the driver can sense their urgency. It seems like only minutes before they've stopped in front of Salma's house. He hands the driver a few bills as Salma slides from the cab, then follows her. "Hurry," he murmurs, hands spanning her waist as he presses against her from behind while she tries to unlock the door.
She fumbles with the key, and practically yanks him inside when she gets the door open. She twists in his arms, lips on his the second they're finally in the house, alone and private, with the entire night stretched before them. She's never known need like what she feels for him.
Kicking the door shut behind them, Moe fumbles the lock into place and then presses her up against the wall. There's time for nicety and romance later. Right now, he's far more interested in feeling her.
"Please," she murmurs, desperate, heated, tearing at his jacket and shirt. She needs skin on skin contact, needs him inside her, claiming her.
He lifts her a little, pulling her feet off the floor, as one hand starts to bunch her dress, pulling it higher with each twitch of his fingers. "Gonna make you feel good," he murmurs, lips moving over her throat again, and he's practically shaking with the need to be inside her.
"Better," she promises them both, and yanks at the buttons of his fly, fingers curling around his cock as soon as it bobs free. "Now...please..."
"With pleasure," he growls, nipping at her throat as he shoves her dress up and yanks her underwear aside. In one smooth thrust he's inside her, gripped tight by slick walls, and it's enough to make him groan against her skin.
The first sharp thrust takes her breath, the second stops her heart. She muffles her sob against his lips as she tightens her ankles around his back, pulling him in even closer, mouth hungry, heated, on his. She's never known want like this.
"So beautiful like this," he murmurs, hands cupping her ass as he settles into a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing her up the wall. "Love the way you feel around me..."
"Love you...so much, God, so much..." More, she needs more...
His hands grip almost tight enough to leave bruises. The way she moves with him, on him, steals his breath. He murmurs to her, nonsense words, and slides his lips over hers, tongues tangling as he angles his hips and thrusts deeper.
He's so thick inside her, so hard. It's all she can do to hang on, move with him, match each thrust with a counter-thrust of her own. His kiss is hard, possessive, claims her as much as his cock.
"Come for me, darlin'..." She's so tight around him, so wet, body begging for more with each thrust. He gives her what she asks for, bending his head to nuzzle at her breast through the thin material of her dress, feeling the nipple swell against his lips.
Her body shudders, muscles clamping tight around him as she lets go, his name a wordless groan on her lips.
"So beautiful," he whispers, fingers digging tight into lush hips. One thrust, then another, and he comes with a harsh groan, the feel of her clutching him tight too much.
She sucks in one breath, then another, pleased that her lungs are actually working. She'd been unsure for a few moments. "God," she manages, resting her forehead against his, smiling in spite of the fact that she can still barely feel her limbs and she's got to be heavy.
He chuckles in her ear. "Not sure he had much to do with it," he says, voice rough as he tries to control his breathing. Pulling away from the wall, arms wrapped snug around her, he starts towards the bedroom.
"No," she says, wrapping her arms around his neck, looking deep into his eyes, "God gave you to me. And I'm grateful beyond measure to Him for it."
Moe can't argue with that. So he just smiles and kisses her softly. "Alright, darlin'," he murmurs as he gently tumbles her onto the bed.
"Still dressed," she chuckles, stretching on the covers as she looks up at him. "And I like you naked."
"Oh, I'm gonna take care of that," Moe grins, already working on the buttons of his shirt. "Then I'm gonna take care of you."
"Thought you just did." She sits up, pushing his hands out of the way so she can unbutton his shirt, smoothing fingers over muscle and skin. So much strength and power, and all of it hers.
"That was just the start," he says. Smiling, he reaches out to push the straps of her dress off her shoulders, fingertips skimming the tops of her breasts.
"You keep spoiling me like this, and you'll just have to take me to New York with you, 'cause I won't be fit for no one else," she smiles, rising to her knees to pull her dress off, tossing it aside, baring herself to his gaze.
"Might be I'll take you to New York with me anyway," he murmurs, laughing softly as he weighs a breast in one hand, gaze sweeping over her lush curves. "Even if you ain't spoiled."
"Might be I'm not planning on giving you a choice," she replies, arching her back so he can touch more of her.
"Darlin'..." His fingers trail down her ribcage to her waist, teasing soft and supple skin. He smiles when she looks up at him. "I ain't asking for a choice."
Her breath catches at the look in his eyes. "You mean it?" she asks softly, afraid to raise her voice.
"Don't say things I don't mean," he replies, sliding his hand up to cup her breast again.
She knows her entire heart is in her eyes for Moe to see, but she doesn't care. Welcomes it, actually. "Make you so proud of me," she tells him, sighing into the touch. "I love you." The words come easier, now that she knows he's not rejecting it. The rest will, God willing, come in time.
"Already proud of you," he says with a smile. Catching her hand, he pulls her up into his arms. "Handled yourself at dinner just like it was some big society event."
"I like being with you," she smiles, draping her arms over his shoulders as she scoots closer. "And I bet charming those high-class folks in New York won't be any different than it is here. Just gotta know when to smile and nod and reply."
"That's about it." He grins, arms wrapped snug around her slender waist. Her curves fit him just fine. "And with Kitten's stamp of approval on you, ain't no one gonna dare to be less than nice to you."
"I can handle myself. Don't you worry about me."
"Oh, I ain't worried at all." Another grin as he shrugs out of his shirt, tumbling her onto her back and following her down. "Way I see it, New York ain't gonna know how to deal with you."
"Long as you can handle me, New York can take care of itself," she purrs, pushing down on his pants, needing to feel skin on skin.
Moe smiles against her skin, hands skimming over her hips as he wiggles out of his pants and boxers. "How 'bout we handle each other?"
"Long as you'll have me," she smiles, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him down to her.
"That," he murmurs, shifting a little to slide into her welcoming heat, lips brushing hers, "could be a long time..."
***