Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 83167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Then he shot a shit-eating grin at Mo and announced, “I fucking hate you. You got the only good one left.”
He might be right about that.
And Mo was down for the fuck-a-thon.
The rest?
“You want Lottie doing a deep dive in your psyche?” Mo asked.
“If I didn’t think you’d pull my balls out through my throat, I’d share I would give it up about Nikki if I got all the rest.”
“Nikki?” Lottie asked.
“You shouldn’t have gone there, brother,” Mo muttered.
Mag looked to Lottie. “How’s this? You don’t treat him like a piece of shit,” he tilted his head to Mo, “I’ll bust out my good Scotch and drown my sorrows while crying on your shoulder and laying my broken heart at your feet. You do end up treating him like shit, Axl, Aug, Boone and me will build an effigy of you and burn it, like we did Tammy, because apparently that works.”
“I’ll take that deal,” Lottie immediately replied.
“Well, all right,” Mag said quietly, eyeing Mo’s woman up now with open approval.
They shared a moment of solidarity and Mo let them do that before he reminded his friend, “Weren’t you gonna shotgun that beer and then get the fuck outta here?”
“Right, I have plans.”
He then took out his army knife, set the beer on its side on the counter, slipped out the blade, shoved it in the bottom side of the can and put the hole to his mouth before pulling the cap, downing the brew like he was eighteen years old and standing in the living room of a frat house.
Mag gave out a big, “Ah,” when he was done, crunched the can and tossed it in the recycling before he strolled to his bedroom, saying, “If you’re behind closed doors, I’ll lock up when I go out and catch you two on the flipside.”
And then he shut his door behind him.
Mo looked from Mag’s door to Lottie.
“Nikki?” she asked.
He knew she wouldn’t let that go.
“I’ll explain later.”
“Scale of one to ten with Tammy being a five, what’s my challenge?” she asked.
“Eighty-two. He was gone for her. Lost. Couldn’t find his own ass if she was in the same room. And she was for him too, if he’d give up his job and go work at a bank or something.”
“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.
And the couch he’d slept on without her for a week.
These thoughts on his mind, Lottie’s taste in his mouth, Mo broke the kiss, trailed his lips to her ear and asked, “You good?”
“Tremendous,” she replied, pressing into him. “Though, hungry.”
Yeah, he was too.
“And Mag got home a while ago,” she went on. “We should probably come up for air and go see if the Rockies won.”
This meant, go out and start laying the groundwork to find out what kind of guy Mag was so she could set him up with the right woman.