"Anything you want, peaches."
CHAPTER 19
SWEAT
MOLLY
Idid not know my pussy could sweat.
But here I am, planted on my kitchen table with Grey hovering over me, contemplating the fact that yes, in fact, pussiescansweat. No exertion required, just a super hot guy fingering a peach in your kitchen. I swear to god when he sucked the juice off his thumb while holding hard eye contact with me, I almost started barking like a dog.
And now he's gonna dothat. Tome.
Sweaty, drenched, achy, needy, meowing pussy. This is what I've been reduced to. I've got it so bad, I rubbed one out on his actual penis in his actual lap on my actual couch with all of my clothes on minutes ago. And here I am again as if I haven't had an orgasm in a thousand years. The swing of emotions is so intense, I'm dizzy. First, from being so horned up, you could not have pried me off of him with a crowbar. Then to being more embarrassed than I've ever been in my life. Then, he made me feelso hotabout it. And then he fucked a peach with his hand.
Thank god he's about to touch me because I don't know how much more of this I can take. I realize there are a lot of bases between dry humping and penetration, but if pressed, I would frog hop over all of them and head straight for home. Honestly, you wouldn't even have to press. A gentle breeze could throw me into his lap, vagina first.
I'm flushed all over, panting already, and I haven't even taken my shorts off. My head tilts so I can look at him. God, he's so tall. Broad. Strong. A wall of muscle and bearded jaw and those pale eyes staring at me with such intensity, the air between us crackles.
I don't realize my thighs have spread until the motion catches his attention. His gaze drops, sharpens, darkens. My stomach drops with it.
"You gonna put me in or what, coach?" I breathe.
One final time, he pauses. I watch him think, weigh it out, careful and cautious as always. Even when his pupils are blown and there's a tent in his sweats that could house a family of four. And then, he smirks.
"Batter up, babygirl."
A flash of heat tingles through my chest. Babygirl. That's new.
I like it.
He steps closer, cups my face with a rough palm. "We're gonna take this slow. And if you want to stop--"
"Rain check. I know."
His thumb strokes my cheekbone. "Good girl."
This time, the heat doesn't just tingle, it slicks my thighs. His eyes crinkle at whatever he sees in my face.
"You nervous?"
"Yes."
"Good nervous or bad nervous?"
I swallow hard. "Good. Definitely good."
He steps closer, his hands gripping my thighs to spread them wider, settling his hips between them. The sight of him like this, standing between my legs, hands possessive on my thighs, makes my breath catch. His hands slide up my legs, rough calluses catching on my skin. Warm. Big enough to span the width of my thigh. They stop at my hips, thumbs rubbing in small circles into the divots there, and I'm already trembling.
And then he leans in and kisses me.
We've done this plenty by now. I know the shape of his lips, the command in them. The slide of his tongue, seeking, searching, claiming. But this time, something's different. There's weight to it,promise. I sigh into his mouth, sink into the kiss as his hand slides up my back, under my tee. Skin on skin, his palm hot and rough against my spine, pressing me forward. When his other hand slips into my hair, he tilts my head back, angling me for better access. And I open myself up--mouth and thighs and lungs and heart--hands clutching at his shoulders.
They slide down, exploring. The solid planes of his chest, the hard slabs of his pecs. I can feel his heart hammering beneath my palm, racing as fast as mine. Faster, maybe.
I want him closer. Need him closer. And he must be able to read my mind, because his arm tightens around my back, pulling me forward. My ass slides to the very edge of the table, and suddenly I can feel all of him. His warmth. His strength. The hard, thick length of him pressed against my thigh.
He wants me too.
