Rock Chick Reborn

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

I couldn’t help it.

I grinned again.

“You’re totally gonna love the Rock Chicks,” I told him.

“I thought I would. Not sure now if that’s true.”

“They love me straight to their souls.”

“Then you’re right, sweetheart. I’ll love them.”

And that made me grin again.

We talked a lot longer.

And I grinned a lot more.

We ended our conversation with me lulled half asleep with Moses’s sweet voice sounding in my ear.

I fell totally asleep yet again with my phone held to my chest.

But this time it was different.

This time, everything was different.

Because tomorrow, for the first time in a long time, I had something amazing and beautiful and exciting to look forward to.

Tomorrow, I was going to see Moses again.

Reborn

Shirleen

THE NEXT NIGHT, I opened the door to my house.

I stood there in my dress and heels, hair done, makeup refreshed, staring at the handsome man on my doorstep wearing a café au lait button up, a chocolate-brown blazer, his eyes warming, his lips forming a sexy smile upon seeing me . . .

And I was reborn.

His warm, rich voice came at me, covering my skin, washing the last of the dust away at the same time it seeped in, through the skin, the flesh, the bone, to fill my marrow with liquid goodness.

“Ready to go?”

I stood there, unable to move.

“Or you wanna show me your place?” he asked.

He was so beautiful.

So beautiful.

And I had it in my power to make him mine.

Like I had it in my power to keep on keeping on the way I’d been keeping on and told Daisy I was not going to help Jet find her daddy.

But I made my choice.

Then I helped Jet find her daddy.

Like I had it in my power to stay detached, stay removed, not get involved.

But I made my choice.

And I became friends with Jet. I renewed my friendship with Daisy. And with time, the rest of them came along.

Like I had it in my power when things were heating up on the streets with Jules being a vigilante and I had a choice to make.

And I made that choice.

Then Darius and me got out of the game.

Like I had it in my power when the worst that could happen happened, and Roam and Jules both got shot, Jules nearly got dead, this happening while they were looking out for each other, and I wanted Jules’s kids under my roof so I could look after them.

And I made that choice.

Then I made it happen.

I’d been experiencing the longest, slowest rebirth maybe of all time.

A rebirth I had to fight for.

And could have died for.

But I kept at it.

And I would never be at peace. Not after all I’d done.

But I was going to take this new life I’d chosen.

And I was going to live it up.

“Baby, you okay?” Moses asked.

Only then did I move.

I reached out a hand, grasped him by his button down, and pulled him into my house.

Into me.

His hands immediately came to my waist.

And with my head tipped back, his lips came immediately to my mouth.

I clamped a hand on the side of his head.

And that was when Moses kissed me.

I moved backwards, taking him with me.

His lips detached.

Oh no.

“Shirleen.”

“Close the door.”

“Baby.”

“The boys are gone.”

“Sweetheart.”

I let his shirt go so I could clamp both of my hands on his head.

“Please,” I whispered.

Moses looked into my eyes.

He then turned to shut the door.

I heard the lock go.

Then he turned back to me.

And I again had his mouth.

I took it. Lord, did I. I took from it and let him take from me. I pressed tight to his strong length, walking backwards, leading him with me, drinking from that sweet mouth, drinking deep.

When I sensed my bedroom door, I shifted us, his head came up again and he stopped us.

“You sure?” he whispered.

“I have only been more sure of one thing in my life. Offering my boys a home,” I answered.

His warm brown eyes got warmer.

Then they got hot.

And suddenly I wasn’t leading Moses Richardson anywhere.

He was taking me where he wanted us to be.

Which, shortly thereafter, was us falling on my bed, him on top.

That was a way I did not mind in the slightest my duvet getting unpoofed.

He was hot and heavy with his mouth, his tongue, but he went gentle and slow with his hands.

Until I pulled his hand up to my breast, curled it around, arched into it, and when he slid his thumb over my nipple, I moaned into his mouth.

This was it.

This was the good stuff.

Real.

Open.

Safe.

I believed.

I believed in that.

And I believed I deserved to have it.

I pulled at his jacket.

He yanked it off and tossed it away.

I tugged his shirt out of his pants, dove my hands under and felt his smooth, warm skin.

Lord.

Heaven.

“You feel good,” I whispered against his mouth when he stopped kissing me so he could nibble my lower lip.

His thumb slid back over my nipple, and I whimpered a little and arched into him again.

“You feel better,” he rumbled, slanted his head and kissed me again.

And again.

Then more.

He made me dizzy with it.

Lost to it.

Until it hit me I wanted even more.

I went after the buttons of his shirt.

His mouth went after my neck as I undid the buttons of his shirt.

That felt nice.

“Please tell me you brought condoms,” I breathed in his ear.

Another button open.

“I put three of ’em in my wallet the night after the Rock Chicks broke in.”

Oowee.

I smiled.

And opened another button.

He lifted his head to catch my smile.

Then he dropped it to kiss me again.

I forgot about his buttons because his kiss was so sweet, so hot, I had to hold on or I’d get an ice-cream headache at the same time I melted into my bed.

And I had to get serious about that, and in doing so might have curled my nails into the flesh at his back.

He instantly let my mouth go to lift up a smidge in order to undo his cuffs then he yanked the still half-buttoned shirt over his head.

I caught sight of his wide pecs, the swells and planes that made his midriff, his flat stomach, the crease of his navel.

And it was then, I lost control.

In other words, I attacked.

He was on his back and I’d yanked my skirt up to straddle him, but hunched over to get my mouth on that chest.

His skin felt good.

It tasted better.

“Baby,” he murmured.

I licked his nipple.

His hand clamped on the back of my neck. “Fuck, baby.”

He was all kinds of goodness to offer to go slow.

But enough of that shit.

I had nails to his abs, mouth to his neck, when I felt his fingers tug the skirt of my red, long-blouson-sleeved, cold shoulder dress.

“Want this off,” he murmured.

I lifted up and twisted my arms behind me to get at the zip.

He curled up to sitting and said, “Before you dislocate a shoulder, let me.”

He was smiling at me.

I went in and kissed that smile off his lips.

The zip went down fast.

The dress then went up, up . . .

I broke my mouth from his and lifted my arms . . .

And away.

His eyes fell to my body.

I clasped his bristly cheeks to lift his head so I could kiss him again, but I got nowhere.