“Oh Mataus, I should be the one thanking you. You are one amazing lover”

Matt laughed. “You are good for my ego, cher. Now, tell me what you were talking about. What did you mean when you said you can’t get pregnant?”

Mo sighed. “This isn’t exactly wonderful post-coital talk. Are you sure you want to talk about this now?”

Matt tipped her chin up so she was looking at him. “Tell me?”

“Okay. Well, I’m medically discharged from the Army. I was a diesel mechanic in service. I worked in the motor pool. One day while I was working on a Humvee, a young private swerved to miss a dog that ran in front of the armored vehicle he was driving. Stray dogs were always a problem in camp. Anyway, he hit the back of the Humvee where I was working in the engine compartment. There was a brick wall behind me. I was crushed between the vehicle and the wall. It crushed my pelvis. I had a lot of internal injuries. Among them, I lost one of my ovaries and had damage to the other. I am full of scar tissue. I’ll never have children.”

Mataus hugged her close. “I’m so sorry, cher.”

“I guess I should have told you before. You have a right to know. If you’re with me, I’ll never be able to give you a child,” she said looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

He stroked her cheek. “Oh baby, there are other ways. If we want children, there are plenty that need good homes. Just look at little Grace.”

Gentle tears rolled down Mo’s cheeks and she laid her head on Matt’s chest as they fell. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. Everything will be all right.” At that moment Matt desperately wished he had healing powers in his psychic repertoire. Anything to take the pain from Mo, but all he could do was hold her as she cried and try to imbue her with the strength of his love.

He kissed her forehead, her temples, her closed eyelids. He whispered words of love and comfort, in English, Spanish, French. “Please, baby, please, stop crying, you're tearing my heart into pieces.”

When her tears finally stopped he made love to her again. This time slowly, sweetly. A soft coming together of moans and sighs. Afterward, Mo drifted off to sleep in his arms. Mataus lay awake for some time, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the unfairness of the world. This beautiful woman in his arms, who had so much to give a child, and obviously wanted one so desperately, and because of a freak accident, she would be denied that privilege.

He finally fell into a restless sleep.

Grace lay curled in a ball on the floor of a cold dark room. The only light coming from a small dirty window high on the opposite wall. An open wooden staircase stood to the left. In front of him stood the back of a man, shirtless. Greasy black hair hanging in lifeless hanks to his broad tattooed shoulders. Dark brown skin glistened with sweat even though the temperature in the room was cold. Over the damp and musty smell of the basement, Mataus could smell the foul stench of the man’s body.

He stood feet braced wide and menacingly pulled the leather belt from the loops of his jeans. In a guttural voice he barked. “You vile little brat. You are just like her! Just like tu madre. Una puta! But I’ll beat it out of you. I’ll teach you to be good, one way or another.”

The belt was free of his pants now and he advanced on the child, arm drawn back as Grace cowered on the ground. The man’s arm swung down and… Mataus woke, bolting upright in bed, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf.

Mo woke instantly, turning to Matt. “What is it Matty?” she asked, placing a hand on his back.

“I had a dream,” he said.

* * * *

Mo ran her hand up and down his back. “Come here,” she said, pulling his head down so it rested on her stomach. Shuttering breaths seesawed from Mataus as he curled into her side and she stroked his forehead. “Tell me?”

He took a deep breath, the exhalation prickling the skin of her belly. “It was Grace. I saw the man who abused her, but not his face. Only from the back. It was horrible, Cara.”

Mo held herself as still as possible, not giving in to the urge to shudder along with her lover. He needed her strength now, and she would give it to him. “I’m so sorry, bébé.”

Her fingers tangled in the thick strands of his hair and she twirled the locks, marveling at their softness. “Everything is all right now. Close your eyes and relax. I have you. Go back to sleep.” Mo continued to caress his hair, his back, his face, until his breathing evened out and she knew he had fallen back to sleep.

Looking down at the dark head lying so close to her heart she thought about Mataus’ ‘gift.’ What would it be like to see such awful things and know you could do nothing to change them? And then she thought about his premonition of her. She’d known from the moment he told her that the danger was real, but now it was as if she could feel it closing in on her. She was far from psychic, but evil definitely lurked in the shadows and somehow she knew it was all connected to Grace.

As if thinking the child’s name conjured her spirit, whimpers and cries suddenly came from the other room. Mo carefully slipped from beneath Mataus and quickly made her way to Grace’s room. The child thrashed in the bed, fighting the covers. “No, no, pwease. I be good. No,” she cried.

Mo sat on the edge of the bed and gently brushed the soft brown curls from Grace’s face. “Shh, sweet angel. No one is going to hurt you. Mo is here and you’re safe.”

Chocolate brown eyes fluttered open, wet with tears, the small body launched itself into her arms. Glomming onto her neck in a viselike grip that threatened to take her breath away. “Easy, bébé, Mo has you. It’s all right.”

Sobs wracked her little body as she said, “He hurt me.”

Mo shook with anger and pain. “I know, little bit. I’m so sorry, but no one will hurt you here.” She didn’t know if she should push, but she felt she had to ask. She needed to find this man. “Can you tell me who hurt you, Grace?”

“Daddy,” was the reply muffled as Grace’s face was still pressed to the crook of her neck.

“Do you know daddy’s name?” she asked.

Grace shook her head. “Do you know your last name, Grace? Like my name is Mo Konklin. Your name is Grace what?”

“Padilla.”

Bingo! With a last name now they had something to go on. “That’s a beautiful name, Grace Padilla.” Mo kissed her temple. “Do you think you can go back to sleep now? Teddy is here to guard you.”

“Will you sing me a song?”

“Yes, I’ll sing you a song. Lay down and close your eyes.” Mo tucked her under the covers and began the opening lyric of Baby Mine from Dumbo. The words seemed most appropriate to her. Grace was asleep before she reached the chorus. Mo feathered her fingers along the little girls’ soft brown cheek. Pauvre petit bébé.

Mo crept down the hall and crawled back in bed with Mataus. She snuggled up to his strong back and sighed in contentment. The steady beat of his heart a metronome for her ear, she concentrated on the sound and let the soothing rhythm ease her into sleep.

* * * *

Mo still slept like a soldier and she felt eyes on her. Civilians might not understand that, but as a soldier you just had a sixth sense when someone was watching you. She opened her eyes to stare straight into the deep chocolate of Grace’s, looking at her curiously. Her back was to Mataus’ front and his arm was draped around her waist. Thankfully, he’d put his boxer shorts on before he fell back to sleep last night. However, his broad, bare chest loomed behind her.

“Good morning, sunshine. How are you today?”

Around the ever present fingers in her mouth Grace mumbled, “I hungry.”

Mataus lifted his head and leaned over Mo’s shoulder. “Well, hello there, little bit. I think I can take care of that. How would you like some French toast?”

Grace nodded madly. “Me like French toast and bacon.”

“And bacon too, huh? Do you have bacon in the fridge Ms. Cara?”

“What kind of ranch do you think this is Mataus? Of course I have bacon. I think her name was Petunia.”

Mataus wiped a hand down his face. “Oh brother, that I didn’t need to know!”

“Wimp,” she teased.

“Am not,” he said, with a smack to her ass. “I just like to get my bacon from the Piggly Wiggly.”

“Haha, and where do you think they get it from?” Mo giggled slipping from under the covers and lifting Grace into her arms.

Matt shifted to the side of the bed, careful to keep the covers over the lower half of his body. “I choose not to think about that.”

“Wussy,” Mo coughed into her hand.

“You’re gonna pay for that later,” he said with a leer.

“Mmm hmm, we’ll meet you in the kitchen,” she tossed over her shoulder as they exited the room.

Mo set Grace in a chair at the kitchen table and headed for the coffee maker. “Would you like some orange juice, Grace?”

“Yes, pwease.”

“Coming right up.” Mo poured her a glass and sat down at the table cradling her cup of coffee. Mataus walked into the kitchen still buttoning his shirt. Hair mussed, jaw shadowed with dark brown stubble and barefoot, he looked like sex on a stick.

He kissed Mo’s cheek and knelt down in front of Grace. “May I kiss you good morning, Miss Grace?” he asked sweetly. Grace’s big brown eyes blinked in astonishment and she stared at Mataus for a long moment and then she nodded hesitantly. Mataus leaned forward and gently brushed a butterfly kiss along her smooth brown cheek. “Good morning, mon ange,” he whispered and then stood and strode to the coffee. “Ah, manna from the God’s,” he said as he poured a cup. “Point me toward the pans and I’ll get the French toast going.”

“Cabinet to the left of the sink,” Mo replied. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Nope, just sit back and relax. I got this.” And he did. Mo sipped her coffee while the big man efficiently whipped up eggs, milk, cinnamon and sugar and dipped bread in the mixture before dropping it in a buttered skillet. Bacon sizzled in another pan, and Matt seemed to have it all in control. Was anything sexier than a man who could cook?

Mo pulled syrup from the fridge, threw it in the microwave to heat, and set the table. Before long they were all enjoying the delicious meal. Grace had butter and syrup smeared all over her face.

“You are a right mess, little bit. Are you eating that French toast or wearing it?” he teased.

Stark terror filled Grace’s face as she swung her head from side to side, as if searching for something. “I sorry,” she mumbled in a trembling voice. “I get a towel, I clean it up. I be a good girl, I promise.”

Mataus immediately exited his seat and dropped to his knees in front of her. He took her sticky chin gently in his large hand. “Grace, look at me,” he said, when her eyes dropped to the ground. “I am not mad at you, and even if I was, I would never hurt you. I was only teasing you. I think you look adorable with syrup all over your face. In fact, I’d like to lick it all off.” He laughed, though Mo could tell he was forcing it. “You don’t need to be afraid here. No one will ever hurt you here. NO ONE. Do you understand?” He released her chin, but held her gaze.

Tears shimmered in Grace’s eyes and when she blinked one rolled down her cheek. Mataus brushed it away with his thumb. “’kay,” she murmured, voice still shaky and unsure.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked. “I really need a hug.” Grace threw herself into his arms like a rocket and wrapped her little arms and legs around him like a monkey climbing a tree. He stood and walked her over to the sink, where he wet a washcloth and proceeded to clean off all the sticky syrup and butter from them both. His shirt would probably never be the same, and neither would her heart.

“Why don’t you two go and pick out something for Grace to wear today?” Mo said. “I need to make a phone call.” Mataus arched a quizzical brow. “Some information that came to light after you fell back asleep last night. I’ll tell you later. Little pitchers have big ears.”

“Got it. Come on, little bit. Let’s go find you an outfit for today. What do you want to wear?”

“I want to wear my princess dress,” Grace said, skipping along beside him as they headed for her room.

“That sounds perfect to me,” she heard him reply as they headed down the hall.

Mo picked up the phone and dialed Susan Orsby. She had Grace’s last name and they had a place to proceed to look for her father. Mo wanted the man arrested and in jail. The sooner the better.  

* * * *

The three of them spent the day together. They took Grace out to the barn, showed her the horses and Grace had her first riding lesson, then a picnic lunch out by the pool, followed by Mataus frolicking in the water with Grace until she was practically falling asleep standing up.

“I think it’s time for a nap, little bit,” Mo said.

Rubbing her eyes and clinging to Matt’s shoulder Grace grumbled, “I not sleepy.”

Matt rubbed a towel over her damp back and tweaked a curl at the side of her head, faking a large yawn he said, “Well, I’m sure sleepy. All that sun and fun makes me want to curl up and rest for an hour or two. Are you sure you don’t want to lie down? Just for a bit?”

“You sing me a song? Like Mo did?” she asked timidly.

Mataus looked like a deer that got caught in the headlights. “Um, baby girl, Mataus can’t carry a tune in a bucket. How about I read you one of the story books I bought you instead?”

Grace tilted her head and scrunched up her little face. “What that mean? You can’t carry tune in a bucket?”

Matt laughed. “It means I can’t sing, mon ange. It’s just an expression.”

“You funny. Okay, you can read me story.”

Matt sighed. “Good. Let’s go pick out a book. You coming, Cara?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to change the moppet into some dry clothes.”

“Oh, yeah right.” Mataus looked down at his own wet jeans and shook his head, maybe she could throw them in the dryer for him while Grace was sleeping.

Mo made quick work of changing Grace into dry clothes and Matt sat on a towel on the side of her bed, so he didn’t soak her sheets. He began the opening stanza of Goodnight Moon and Grace was asleep before page three.

Picking up the towel he quietly walked to the door where Mo waited and watched. “You’re so good with her,” she whispered.

Matt shrugged his broad shoulders. “She’s adorable. What can I say?”

Mo leaned up and kissed his bristled cheek, and then paused, turning to rub her soft cheek against his. “Mmm, I like the feel of you scruffy.”

He backed her into the hallway and pressed her up against the wall. “You do, huh?” he said, rubbing the scruff along her neck and then kissing up the path to nibble her earlobe. “Should I grow a beard for you? Then I could tickle you all over with it.”

She giggled. “I don’t know. I can’t picture you in a beard. But I like this ‘I need a shave’ look. It makes you look like a pirate. All you need is a peg leg and a parrot.”

“Arr, me bonnie wench. Shall I hoist ye over me shoulder and drag ye off to the bedroom and ravish ye?”

“Oooh, I think I shall swoon,” she said, laying a hand to her forehead and leaning back, which put her pretty breasts on lovely display for him. He buried his face in her cleavage and licked up one bountiful swell.

“Me thinks the fair maiden is in definite need of ravaging.” He grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. Just as they reached her bedroom the phone in her pocket began to ring. He slid her down his body. “I suppose you need to answer that?”

Pulling the phone from her pocket she looked at the caller ID. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s Susan Orsby. I need to answer.”

“Cockblocked by a damn telephone. Go ahead,” he said as he stripped off his pants. “I’m going to go throw these in the dryer.”

When he returned to the bedroom Mo was smilimng like the Cheshire cat and she jumped into his arms. “They got him!” she exclaimed planting a hard kiss on his lips.

He swung her around and sat on the bed with her straddling his lap. “Got who? What are you talking about?”

“I never had a chance to tell you, because Grace has been with us all morning, but last night after you fell asleep, Grace had a nightmare. I went to her room to calm her down and I was able to find out her last name. That was the call I had to make this morning. I gave the name to Susan and the police were able to locate Grace’s father! They arrested him an hour ago.”

Mataus hugged her tight. “That’s fantastic. What about her mother?”

“According to the scumbag father, the mother ran out on them when Grace was only two. He doesn’t know where she is and hasn’t seen her since. DCFS will keep looking for her, but the father said he thought she left the state.”

Matt shook his head. “How could any mother leave her child? That is just beyond me. Especially with a man like that.”

Mo gazed at him with sad eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll never understand it. Maybe she’s a drug addict or something like that.” She closed her eyes and shivered. “Or maybe she didn’t really leave, maybe he killed her.”

Matt nodded solemnly. “I suppose that’s a possibility. The way he has beaten poor Grace, God knows what he did to his wife.”

“But they have him now. He’s in custody. He’ll pay for what he’s done to Grace. I’ll sleep easier tonight knowing he’s not out on the street.”

“Yeah, me too,” Matt said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. Comfort morphed to desire as her warm breath moved up his neck and her tongue peeked out to trace the columns of muscle.

He pulled her blouse over her head and tossed it to the side, drawing her face to his and locking them together in a passionate kiss. A quick flick and her bra joined her blouse on the floor. Mataus laid her back on the bed and kissed down her body to the waistband of her jeans. He popped the snap and slowly slid the zipper down, he kissed the scars that marred the delicate skin of her abdomen and pelvis. Proof of all the pain she’d suffered, as he worked the jeans down and off her legs.

Kneeling between her thighs he gazed at the beautiful woman spread out before him like an offering to the gods. Her sweet pink pussy glistening with dew begged for a taste and he dipped his tongue inside, lapping up the honeyed goodness, before swirling once around her tight hard clit. Then he prowled up her body, stopping briefly to pay homage to the beaded pearls of her nipples. When he reached her mouth she was panting in desire and arching into him. Their mouths meshed, tongues wrapping around each other like kudzu vines in the bayou, never to be drawn apart.

Mo reached between them and placed the head of his cock at her entrance. Sliding him up and down to lubricate the shaft, and then she held him in place, arching her hips, and drawing him inside. As the first inches slid in, a small moan echoed from her lips. “Oh God, Mataus, you feel so good.”

Matt thought he would burst before he was fully seated. She was so tight and hot. “I’m not going to last long, cher.” He thrust hard, seating himself fully inside her and held for a moment, trying to regain a modicum of control.

The muscles of her pussy fluttered around him and he groaned. “Don’t hold back, I need you,” she cried. With that Mataus let go of all restraint. Her rocked back and thrust forward. Pounding into her, harder, faster. Their breath came in shallow pants. The room rang with the sounds of the smack of their bodies coming together and the moans of pleasure coming from them both.

Mataus felt her body tighten, her back arching off the bed, her abdomen quivering, she was close. He latched onto her nipple and sucked, flicking it with his tongue and she came. Clamping down on his dick and triggering an orgasm that had his eyeballs rolling into the back of his head. His seed shot out and the spasms of her pussy milked every last drop from his balls.

He collapsed to her side, pulling her to rest on his chest. “My God woman, I think you took me to another dimension.”

“Mmm.” She snuggled closer. “Hell yeah. That was amazing.” They both drifted off to sleep.

Mataus hid behind a bale of hay in the barn. A tiny giggle sounded from a distance. Mo’s voice said, “I’m going to count to ten and then I’m coming to get you! And when I find you, it’s the tickle monster! Are you ready? One, two, three, four,” another giggle. “five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!”

Scurrying feet ran across the barn and then squeals of laughter. Mataus popped out from his hiding place and put his hands on his hips. Watching as Mo tickled a squirming Grace. “Hey! How come no one came looking for me?” he said. Mo whispered something into Grace’s ear and they both charged for him. He allowed himself to be knocked to the ground and the two women tickled him mercilessly. He rolled from side to side, shouting, “No, no, no more! Stop!”

Mo growled in a pretend menacing voice. “I am the tickle monster, and you are mine!”

A shake to the shoulder woke him up and he smiled into Mo’s cornflower blue eyes. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey yourself. You were laughing in your sleep. Were you dreaming again?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “A good dream this time.”