And then he leans in to kiss me, deep and reassuring. The salt and musk of my body is on his fingers--a shiver works down my spine at the knowledge.
"You're so fucking beautiful, Molly," he murmurs against my lips. "Every inch of you." His hand grips my breast, but he lets it go despite getting the impression he doesn't want to. He's got another target, and it's aching for his touch. When his fingertips brush my clit, my self-consciousness evaporates.
Now there is nothing between his fingers and my pussy. His bare cock in my hand is so close, I imagine the heat of his tip pressed to the wet dip, the pressure and weight of him sliding into my body--
He slips a finger into me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, and I cry out, gripping his cock hard in surprise.
Oh god too good too much oh god--
"Oh my fuck--" he groans the word through clenched teeth. "Just like that. Hold me like that.
I can barely breathe, never mind think. Only feel him in my hand, his finger inside me. His thumb circling my clit, the stretch and fullness of his finger, the perfect pressure.
"Look at me," he commands when my eyes drift shut.
I force them open, meet his gaze.
"I want to see those pretty eyes," he says, curling his finger, and I nearly scream, biting my lip hard. "Don't hide from me. Not from me…"
He trails off, his concentration diverted to the rhythm we've found, messy and desperate. His cock is slick with pre-cum, the wet sound obscene. I love it. His finger is buried inside me, curling and stroking, his thumb working my clit, and I rock against his hand. I'm not stroking anymore, just holding him ashe fucks my fist, and it's so fucking hot. I want to watch, but I can't. It's too much, sweat slicking our skin, the smell of sex in the air, musky and sharp.
That pressure in me rises, winding tighter, my body begging for release. "Grey, I'm going to--"
"Not yet," he grits out. "Wait for me."
"I can't--" It's too fast, too intense.
"You can." But his finger finding that devastating spot inside of me, and my body bucks, my throat raw, nearly sobbing, torn between stopping and chasing the orgasm. "Breathe, baby. I've got you."
His cock swells in my grip, getting impossibly harder--how?--his hips thrusting up into my fist, no longer measured, but jerky and desperate. The muscles in his thighs bunch and flex under my leg, rock hard like the rest of him.
His breathing is harsh and ragged, and he swears under his breath. He throbs in my hand with each heartbeat.
"Oh, fuck--I'm gonna--" he warns, voice breaking.
I watch his face, not wanting to miss a second. I want to see him lose control, watch him come apart and know it was because of me. The way his brow furrows, jaw clenched so hard I worry it'll break. His thick neck arches, exposing his muscular throat, the knot in the center bobbing, the tendons stretched to the edge.
I squeeze tighter, stroke faster. When his eyes fly open, they lock on mine with an intensity that clenches my pussy around his finger. There's something wild and vulnerable there. I feel it in every nerve.
"Molly--" My name is a groan, a prayer. His finger curls inside me hard, thumb pressing firmly on my clit. "Now," he commands. "Come with me."
The orgasm slams into me like a freight train, as it if was just waiting there for him to call it to him. The shock of it is sosudden, his name tears from my throat, hand clenching around him reflexively as I cryGrey Grey Grey--
He breaks, shatters, his whole body going rigid, locking tight, turning to stone. His hips jerk into my fist once, twice, three times--
And then he's coming in hot spurts, thick and wet, coating my hand, his stomach and chest. There's so much of it, ropey and violent, jetting from his cock with every pulse inside my fist. I'm transfixed, unable to look away. Until he groans my name.
His face is contorted with pleasure that looks like pain, his mouth hanging open, gasping my name, his broad chest expanding and contracting with every sawing breath.
It's the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life.
The power of it crashes into me like a second orgasm.
His fingers move again, his hand momentarily still, and somehow I'm coming again. Still? I don't know, the intensity of it blinding. Because I made him come. Because I'm high on his pleasure. I let him go, my hand flying to his chest, my hand finding a slick of come--I groan, my pussy clenching around his finger still, forever, eternally, until I'm shaking. Only then does he gentle his touch, eases me down carefully. And then I flop back onto the bed, panting.
"Holy shit," I finally manage, just like last night.
He laughs, flopping down next to me. "Yeah. Holy shit."
