Page 202 of Duty and Desire
I knew my weaknesses.
I was pretty.
I was not beautiful.
Except to Mo.
That was sweet, incredibly sweet, and he could say that, but after my days of rest, it wasn’t like we hadn’t had sex in the fiveweeks since surgery. We did. A lot. Gentle at first. Then not so much.
From what I could see, I was fully healed.
I felt great.
And I was due to go back to work the Tuesday after next.
I was ready.
I was also not.
And the not part was mostly the fact that Mo and I made love, but he never touched my tits.
He barely even looked at them.
“Mo, when we have sex, you don’t—” I began.
That was as far as I got because he cut off my words by tossing the bralette to the side, putting two big hands on my waist, lifting me up, planting my ass on the counter and then he put those two big hands to my breasts.
He lifted one up.
He bent to it.
Then he sucked my nipple deep into his mouth.
Oh…
Nice.
My head fell back and my hands went to his scalp, gliding over, fingers linking at the back.
His head and my hands moved to the other nipple while he rolled the one he’d left gently with his thumb.
I was breathing heavy when his mouth went away, his hands covered my breasts, and his lips came to mine.
“You were healing,” he whispered, looking into my eyes.
“I’m fine now,” I whispered back.
“Okay,” he said.
That was it.
Mo said it was okay.
And it was okay.
He ran his thumbs hard over my nipples before he slid his hands to my back, slanted his head and took my mouth.
It was getting serious. I was enjoying the feel of that serious. Mo had moved one hand back to a breast and was kneading it, his other hand shoving in at my back so I was arched into him, when a pounding came at the door.
