Now, that I remember. “I know.”
“Not just yours.”
A muscle beats hard in my jaw and ice slices into me, jagged edged. “How many?”
“Why?”
Why? Is she crazy? I want to know how many men I need to kill. “Curiosity.”
“Lots.”
“Football teams?” I ask with deceptive lightness.
She flips the script. “How many have you?”
“None. Not into cock, there, Molly. I like lady parts.”
She rolls her eyes. “How many?”
“You mean which ones?” I try to bite the twitch of a smile.
And she growls. “All of them.”
“A lot more than a lot.”
Her mouth forms a narrow line. “Get off me.”
“Why? You’re the one who wanted to have a pissing contest here. Count the notches on the bedpost.” I kiss my way along that tight line.
And then I release her, rolling off her to my feet. But she grabs me, scrambling off the sofa to her knees on the floor, wrapping her fingers around my dick.
“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing there, Marlowe. I’m very close?—”
Words stop as she suddenly dives on me, her mouth opening. She sucks on the tip of my dick, making me stagger as she starts to lick and kiss, dragging a deep, guttural groan from me as she opens, taking me deeper and to the backof her throat.
She sucks my shaft, her tongue playing it where she can as she pushes down on me, deep as she can go.
And then she goes for my fucking balls, lightly squeezing and playing them as she gags herself on my dick.
I’m not going to control myself, I can’t. Already the pleasure’s surging up, and when she takes me as deep as possible, I hold her head, my balls tight, and I cum. Spurt after spurt down the back of her throat. It’s insane. She works the tip, swallowing hard, and her whole mouth sucks like she’s trying to breathe?—
Shit.
I manage to drag myself out, wrapping a hand on my dick and pumping the last few ropes onto her face, her tits, in her hair.
“Christ, Molly.”
I let go of my dick and drag her up, throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her to the massive bathroom.
The floors are heated. I turn on the big shower and put her down before getting under the water with her. Then I take her in my arms and kiss her.
“You disgust me,” she says, voice thick.
“You disgust me.” And I kiss her again.
I wash her and myself, knowing I could take this teetering, still-full keg of sexual gunpowder over the edge and show her how much fun a shower for two can be, but I don’t.
She’s beyond delicious. She’s fucking exquisite. So I control myself and just get us clean, offering her a taste of care after sex.
