Fuck, I need her.
But I'm content. Lying here holding her feels right, more right than anything in my life. HerMolly here in my arms, in my bed, smelling like me, marked by me. Trusting me.
This is what I've been missing.
Her.
I need a second, but she's already stirring, lifts her head to look at me with glazed eyes and a satisfied smile on her lips. She leans up to kiss me softly, sliding her hand down my chest. Lower. To my stomach. Lower still.
When she palms my cock through my sweats, I groan, hips jerking involuntarily, so sensitive it almost hurts. I kiss her, press my hips into hers, pinning her hand so she can't move it,but she's not going to be deterred--she makes space between us so her hand can move.
"Molly--"
"My turn," she says, determined, the words breathy. Her eyes dark, sharpening with want.
Fuck.Fuck fuck fuck.This is how it ends.
She's going to kill me.
Her hand slides down my stomach, fingers tracing the slight trail of hair disappearing into my sweats, and I suck in a breath, abs jumping under her touch. I don't know if I'm ready for this, too wound up and close to the edge. I'll come the second she touches me.
I almost try and stop her, ask her if she's sure. But I know this is what she wants, especially with her looking at me like she is, hot and determined and smirking. She just gave me everything. Trying to stop her would betray that. She just gave me everything. So, so I don't stop her.don’t.
God fucking help me.
"You look like you want to stop me," she teases, reading my mind as she strokes my cock, and I hiss, bucking.
"Only because I'm not gonna last, peaches."
Her cheeks and lips are flushed, but her eyes are shy. "Will you…will you tell me how to taste you?”
I freeze, my brain stuttering. I never expected…didn't think she'd want to…
No one's ever asked me like that. Like it's a gift she wants to give. And I want it. God I want her mouth on me so bad, I can't think. But I'm already so close, cock aching, the taste of her still on my tongue.
"You got to taste me," she notes when I don't answer fast enough. "Fair's fair."
I don't know when the fuck she got so confident, but I like it.
"If that's what you want," I breathe.
"Really?" she asks, genuinely surprised. "You're not gonna stop me? Talk me out of it?"
"Can't say no to you," I admit, palming her breast."Never could. Probably never will."
She softens at the admission, leaning to kiss me slow, stroke me slower. And then she leans back, taking her hand with her, her eyes roaming. Looking at me like I looked at her, like she's seeing me for the first time. She raises her hand to trace my collarbone, over my pecs and around my nipples. Down my ribs. Down my stomach. I'm trying not to breathe too hard, trying to stay still, but every touch is fire, burning me alive. My muscles bunch and jump under her fingers. Despite my efforts, my breath comes faster, cock straining against my sweats, a dark spot over my crown. She notices, her eyes flicking down.
She's staring at my cock. Fuck.
She hooks her fingers in the waistband and pulls gently, looks back up at me. Checking? Teasing?
I lift my hips, help her, and she drags my boxer-briefs down slowly. My cock juts out, slaps against my stomach, flushed and heavy. Her eyes are hungry, her mouth slightly open. Reaches out tentatively. I can't breathe--one touch and I'm gone, I know it.
She traces the vein on the underside with a fingertip, base to tip, and my body jerks, a strangled sound tearing from me.
"Fuck--Molly--" I choke.
And then she grips me. Strokes me, circling the head, slicking it.
