Chapter 31 #2
Her ass tightens around me so hard that I genuinely cannot move.
She screams into the pillow, her whole body shaking, her pussy and ass both clenching in waves that I can feel through my entire cock.
The pressure tips me over. I follow her with a groan that comes from somewhere deep in my chest, pumping into her, filling her ass with everything I've got. My vision whites out for a second and it’s a challenge to keep from collapsing on top of her.
We stay like that for a minute, both of us breathing hard, my forehead resting on her back. Her skin is damp and flushed. She smells like sex and warmth and something indelibly her. I want to live in this moment for approximately the rest of my life.
I pull out carefully and she makes a soft sound. I kiss her shoulder blade, then the dip of her spine, then the curve of her ass.
"You're incredible," I tell her.
She rolls over, and looks up at me with a grin that's equal parts satisfied and smug. "You're not bad yourself, Hotshot."
I pull her off the bed and into the shower, where the hot water hits us both.
She immediately wraps herself around me like a wet, naked octopus.
I wash her hair and she groans at the scalp massage.
She soaps my chest with way more attention than the task requires.
Her hands keep drifting lower, and mine keep drifting to her tits.
By the time we're theoretically clean, I'm hard again and she's on her knees with the water running over both of us.
She looks up at me with those brown eyes and my cock in her hand and asks, "We don't have anywhere to be today, right?"
"Nowhere." I brush a wet curl off her face. "I'm all yours, Freckles."
She smiles and wraps her lips around me. I brace one hand on the shower wall; all I can think about is how I used to believe I wasn't capable of this.
Of any of this. Not the sex, I've always been good at that. But the rest. The morning after. The shower. The way Mollie is looking at me like I'm the center of her world.
Mollie finishes me off in the shower because she's a goddamn overachiever. I kiss her lips and wonder how I got so fucking lucky.
We get out and dry off. I pull on boxers and sweatpants.
Mollie steals my favorite hoodie for the millionth time.
She looks ridiculous in it. The hem hits her mid-thigh, and the sleeves hang past her fingertips.
She's swimming in dark gray cotton; it fills me with a deep sense of male satisfaction that she’s wearing my clothes.
Note to self: throw out all of Mollie’s clothes so she has no choice but to wear mine.
We end up back in bed because neither of us is ready to face the world yet.
She curls into my side with her head on my chest. Gordie, who has apparently been waiting outside the door this entire time with the patience of a saint, jumps up and claims the foot of the bed.
His big head settles on my ankle and he sighs like he's been through an ordeal.
"Poor neglected baby," Mollie coos at him.
"He's fine. He has his own bed."
"He has trauma from being excluded."
"He has a chew toy and a memory span of four seconds."
She pinches my side and I laugh, grabbing her hand and threading our fingers together. We lie there for a while, warm and quiet. This is nice.
"Alex," she says.
"Mm."
"Where do you see this going?"
I look down at her. She's tracing one of the tattoos on my ribs with her free hand.
"You want the diplomatic answer or the real one?"
"The real one. Obviously."
I take a breath. "I want to marry you, Mollie. I want kids with you. I want you in this house permanently, not as my roommate and not as my secret. I want Gordie to be our dog instead of my dog. I want your Converse by the door for the rest of my life."
She lifts her head and looks at me with wide eyes. "Alex."
"You asked for the real answer."
"I did, but you went from zero to white picket fence in about three seconds."
“And I mean every word. I can’t wait to give you my name."
She puts her chin on my chest and studies my face. "Easy, Hotshot. One thing at a time."
"Fair enough." I tuck a curl behind her ear. "So let's start with one thing. Move in with me. For real this time. Not because your apartment burned down, or because Beck asked me to take care of you. I want you here because you want to be here. This is your home, Freckles."
She's quiet for a second. Her fingers trace the tattoo on my rib one more time.
"My Converse are already taking over the entryway," she says.
"I noticed."
"Slothra lives on the couch now."
"She does."
Her lips twitch. "Gordie sleeps on my side of the bed more than yours."
"That's a betrayal I'm still processing."
She grins and pushes up to kiss me. It's soft and slow and tastes like toothpaste and something sweeter than that. My Mollie’s a sweet fucking girl. When she pulls back, her expression is the one I fell in love with three and a half years ago. Open, certain, a little bit mischievous.
"Okay," she says. "I'll stay."
"Yeah?"
"But I'm not marrying you yet, so don't get any ideas."
"I wouldn't dream of it." I would.
"Liar."
I kiss her forehead and she settles back against my chest. Gordie grunts at the foot of the bed and adjusts himself so that he's lying across both of our feet. The weight of him is familiar and grounding and slightly too warm.
My girl is going to live with me. Officially, permanently, no more pretending it's temporary.
Her stuff is going to stay in my drawers, and her candle is going to keep burning in the evenings, and her aerial silks are going to stay in the doorframe.
And every morning I'm going to wake up exactly like I did today, pressed against her, half asleep, already reaching for her.
One day, I'm going to give this girl everything she deserves. Every single thing she's been too afraid to ask for, and too stubborn to admit she wants. The ring, the house, the family, the future.
All of it. Every bit.
And I can’t wait.