Page 172 of Duty and Desire

“Oh boy,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” Mo agreed.

She wandered to him, saying, “I’ll get on that later.”

He bet she would.

Mo went back to his laptop to log in to his bank.

Lottie stopped at his side.

“Mo?” she called.

He lifted his eyes to her.

“I will never, not ever, treat you like shit,” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

They shared their own moment of solidarity.

“Pay your bills, honey,” she urged. “We need to go get some lunch and carb up for our fuck-a-thon.”

Mo decided right then they were having Italian for lunch.

He did this grinning at her.

Then he paid his bills.

They were necking,Lottie sitting on his dick in his lap.

Mo was sitting up, his arms curled around her, his legs straight, her legs curled around his hips, her fingers trailing over the skin on his skull.

When his cock lost it, and her, they kept necking.

It was a while after that when he lifted her up and set her on her side on the bed, bent in and kissed her chest, then threw the covers over her and left her there to go deal with the condom.

They’d carbed up on pasta with the addition of a salad (Lottie eating a lot of the last, a little of the first) at a restaurant down the street from his house.

And since Lottie didn’t want to waste time commencing their fuck-a-thon (and Mo didn’t either), they’d walked back to his place and spent the rest of the afternoon doing that.

She hadn’t done a deep dive into his psyche about why he put up with the likes of Tammy.

Then again, he suspected she knew she’d already handled that.

He rejoined her in his bed, pulled the covers over them, curled her in his arms and started making out with her again.

His bed had definitely been broken in.

And there’d been some action, if not the full go, in her shower that morning.

So that left her couch in front of her TV and finishing up what they started in the shower and he could dream up new places to have her.

His couch was going to be one.

The island too.

And her kitchen counter.