Free Motown Showdown by K.S. Adkins Page B

underneath. Believe me, for a tiny woman she was stacked. When the air and my eyes hit her tits they get hard too. Just a taste, that’s all I need … She doesn’t try to cover them with her hands or grab for a towel, instead she stands proud knowing she’s a goddess. I liked that about her as well.
    Starting the water and testing it out, I pull the curtain back to help her haul her right leg over the side to get in. Still moving slowly but getting stronger by the day, she uses my forearm as a crutch. Moving away to close the curtain she says softly, “Stay.”
    I wasn’t sure if she meant right where I was or nearby so I took a seat on the shitter playing it safe. Watching her silhouette I adjust my dick in my jeans. In truth, a five foot nothing female never looked so good. “You started a side business with Pilgrim,” she says soaping up her those tits I wanted in my mouth. “How come?”
    Moving some spit around so I could actually speak, I tell her the truth. “Wanted to make a difference, we both did. Pilgrim was military, saw some shit but his injury prevented him from being in the field. I saw shit I didn’t like and knew I could make money doing it for other people, so I did. So we merged the two businesses together.”
    “Most of us have a story on why we started,” she says rinsing. “You know mine, tell me yours.”
    “Walked up on a girl I dated right after she was raped,” I say hating the memory. “Found her just as they were done with her, it fucked with me. I thought of it happening to my sister and that fucked with me more. Then I saw a kid get gunned down, saw my dads catch shit for being in love. Homeless get beaten and discarded, rich bastards doing illegal shit. Saw a city that couldn’t keep up, wouldn’t keep up and I wanted to stop it.”
    “All of that makes sense. But off topic, does it bother you that I’m white?” she asks scrubbing her head.
    “No, should it?” I ask wondering where that came from.
    “I would hope not,” she says reaching for another bottle.
    “Does it bother you that I’m black?”
    “Milk chocolate,” she counters before adding, “No, it doesn’t bother me. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I wouldn’t care if you had stripes. Total lie, stripes might be a hard limit for me.”
    I had no idea what to do with that piece of information. “You always wear a false face?”
    “Almost always, yes,” she says. “I can’t risk being remembered.”
    “You’re impossible to forget, Camo.”
    “Gage?” she asks quietly.
    “Yeah, beauty.”
    “I’m ready.”
    My dick was certain she meant ready to fuck but then the water was shut off and the curtain was pulled back which meant ready to get out. This worked too because she was naked with her arms out reaching for me. Until this injury, Camo never needed me for anything. I also know that once she’s healed she’ll go right back to being miss independent.
    After dressing her and getting her spot ready on the couch, she comes in slowly. Just the small effort it took to shower wore her out. This is where the interrogation comes in. She’s tired so she’s less likely to fight me. After she’s seated and I dress her wounds, I cover her with a blanket and take the space next to her.
    “We need to talk,” I say handing her another cup of coffee. The woman needs a coffee drip she drinks it so much.
    “I’m listening,” she says leaning her head back.
    “Need to clear the air with you,” I start. “I know you’re pissed at me about the shit I put you through and I deserve it. Thing is, all these years I had your voice that’s it. Yeah, I could feel you close by but you never came forward, never said shit. We’ve belonged to each other in some fucked up way and my being with others knowing you were there was a dick move. I wanted you jealous…”
    “I was,” she whispers.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Forgiven.”
    “Just like that?” I ask skeptical.
    “I was with others