Chapter 18
JUICY
GREY
Thus began two of the longer weeks of my life.
The first thing I did was quietly slip that leash back on, with a brand-new choke chain for everyone's safety.
If I were a stronger man, I'd walk away. But I'm trapped. Not by her, but by my selfish desire, trapped by the promises I desperately want to fulfill. I know it's a bad idea. But I'm gonna do it anyway.
I'm a glutton for punishment, I guess.
Staring at my ceiling that night, shivering from the world's longest cold shower, I committed.
And one thing about me? When I commit?
I commit.
Once that decision was made, I put some new rules in place just for me.
The most important being a litmus test before I go to Molly's for dinner: if I can think about kissing her and manage to keep my cock in check, I can go straight over.
If not, I have to swing home for a cold shower and to deal with my boner so I can keep my cool.
Haven't gone straight there once all week. Haven't had a hot shower, either.
I quickly learned that Molly is eager. Willing and ready and waiting.
And those cold showers I soon decided are a necessity, because guaranteed, Molly and I will be making out.
The first Monday night was shy, but curious.
By Friday, she was comfortable and sighing and soft, and we kissed until our lips were red and swollen, eyes glassy and half drunk.
I managed to keep us on task around the house through the weekend, went home early Saturday night, even convinced myself I knew what I was doing. I had it all on lock.
Fucking idiot.
This week? She's graduated to climbing into my lap, which immediately graduated to dry humping.
Solo shower sessions imperative. The absolute last thing I need is to nut my pants, and the way she's been grinding and sighing and mewling?
There's no way I'd have survived with my dignity if I hadn't kept the tank on E.
I haven't done this much kissing since high school. I haven't jerked off as much either.
Now that I know what happens if I let go of the leash, I've got a tighter grip on that motherfucker than ever.
Tuesday and Thursday have become the longest days of the week, the two days I'm too busy to see her.
And though I usually dread the weekends, I find myself looking forward to them.
Tonight--Friday--Molly made chicken parmesan, and the second we were through eating and catching up on the last couple of days, she all but threw the dishes into the sink and grabbed my hand.
Which is where I find myself now, being towed into her living room by her surprisingly strong grip.
She smirks at me, taking off her glasses as I sit.
We nearly broke a pair on Wednesday. Lesson learned.
Molly practically shoves me onto the couch and steps between my parted knees, .
Watches me for a moment, then climbs into my lap, burying one knee next to my hip, then the other, leaning in to kiss me as she settles in.
She's wearing a baggy tee and these little grey cutoff sweatpants that her ass hangs out of a little.
I fucking love them. My hand trails up her thigh and into the leg of them to cup her ass.
She makes this little sound in the back of her throat that drives me crazy, deepening the kiss, her fingertips trailing down my neck.
And for a long time, we kiss, our hands roaming, tasting, holding.
Squeezing. We've graduated to clothes-on fooling around, and I've never been so fucking thrilled as I am to cup her breast through an oversized Bugs Bunny tee shirt.
I want it in my mouth. I want to bury my face in her that soft, sweet flesh until I suffocate.
I want to know the shape of them, want to know the color of her nipples, want to feel the hard tip of one with my tongue.
They are so sensitive--there's a direct line between her nipples and clit, evidenced when I break the kiss to nip at one through her shirt.
Moaning, she grinds the length of my cock, which I've made too accessible in my basketball shorts and no Jockeys.
There's too little between us--her hips roll hard, stroking herself against me, her breath ragged.
Her hands slide across my chest, down my abs, back up.
I shiver when her fingertips brush my neck, slip into my hair and twist.
She's grinding with intent, something in her twisting and tightening with every brush of her nipple until she gasps, rising to her knees, separating our hips.
Panting, she looks down at me, and I tip my chin so I can watch her tuck a lock of hair behind her ear as I fondle her breast, thumbing her nipple.
I know why she backed off--if she keeps that up, she's going to come.
I know by the intention in her hips, the command in her lips, the tightness of her body, the speed of her breath. God, I want to see her come.
Let her be. Don't encourage her.
I lean in to nip her breast instead.
That's all it takes--blessedly, she plants herself in my lap, coming at me lips first.
It's a hungry kiss, a frantic kiss, deep and bruising, her hips rolling. The thought of her getting herself off from dry fucking me sets off a groan from deep in my belly. She breaks the kiss at the sound, one hand gripping the back of my neck.
"Grey," she whispers, cupping my hand on her breast, guiding me to squeeze it. The other is on her ass, riding the curve when her hips buck. She hisses, her eyes almost closed, thighs tight as she rolls her hips, kneading her clit with my rigid cock. With my hand on her ass, I encourage her.
I can't breathe.
"Grey, I…" She bites her lip, but her brows are nocked. "Oh. Oh!"
I watch her orgasm rise, watch it coil around her, tighter, tighter, until she comes with a gasp and wild grind of her body. There's almost nothing between us--I can feel her pussy flex through my shorts and look down.
When I catch a glimpse of her pussy through her skewed shorts leg, I fight the urge to flip her over and bury my face between her thighs.
I'd like to suffocate there too.
I bury my face in her breasts through her shirt as she rides out her orgasm, then slows. I feel her pull away before she does it. She's off my lap and fumbling for her glasses.
"God. Oh my god. I'm sorry. I can't believe I…that was…"
I reach for her wrist, stilling her. I'm smirking when she looks at me. "Fucking hot, Molly. That was fucking hot."
She blinks. "What?"
"I said, that was fucking hot," I say again gently as I gather her up, pull her back into my lap, thankful when she sighs and softens in my arms. "You were so turned on, you came with all your clothes on."
Though still embarrassed, she smiles. "I've just never…no one's ever…been there when it happens."
The thought of her touching herself tortures me. But I smile. Hold her closer. Say with absolute honesty, "I'm glad I was the first. Can I be the second too?"
When she laughs, I kiss her smiling lips. And then she slides off my lap and strides into the kitchen for a glass of water. I watch her ass the whole way. She has on crew socks. Why is that so fucking cute?
I lean back, tuck my hand behind my head. "I see how it is--you're through kissing me for tonight?"
"Never," she says after taking a drink. She's sheepish again though. "I'm just not sure how that happened."
"Oh, I think you know," I say on a laugh. "Your clit is magic."
"Magic, huh?"
"Yup." I have a thought that's going to drive her wild, and my poor, engorged cock twitches at the prospect.
"A visual aid." I get up and stride to the kitchen, picking up a peach from the bowl of fruit on her counter.
She hops up to sit on the table, crossing her dangling ankles, watching me, teasing the hot twist in my chest. Once I find a paring knife, I lean back against the counter, eyes on my hands as I work like I don't care, my heart thumping the truth.
"See, you've gotta be careful with a peach," I start, turning it over in my hand until the crease is on display.
"Take the tip, drag it down the split." I circle the fruit, then put down the knife, take the peach in both hands, and twist. It pops apart.
"Don't fight the pit. You'll never win. Work the flesh instead.
" I loosen it, saying, "If I had to guess, when you touched yourself before, you went for quick. Quiet. Right?"
She nods.
So do I. Once the pit is free, I flip it over my shoulder with the knife. Because I am an insufferable ace, it lands in the sink with a thunk and a breathy chuckle from Molly.
"There's no rush with me, Molly. No shame.
Just you and me and the two of us figuring out what you like, what you want, what feels good.
" I set everything down but one half of the peach.
It's in my palm, slick and juicy. I thumb the edge of the hole where the pit was.
"Sometimes, it barely takes anything." Pausing at the apex, I circle slowly.
"Sometimes, you'll need more. Pressure. Depth.
" Firmly, I stroke the ridge smooth. "Maybe you want to be stroked like this.
" My thumb drags a line. "Maybe like this.
" It circles again. Then, I tap. "But the real hero is rhythm.
Too fast, too soon, you burnout. Too slow, you'll never get there.
Find the right pace?" I look up. Hold her gaze.
Bring my sticky thumb to my mouth and suck the juice off.
She stares at my mouth, mesmerized. "It's a climb, not a race.
Feeling it stack until you can't stand it anymore.
The sweetest part is worth the wait." I take a very sexual bite of the peach, which explodes in .
against my tongue I don't wipe the juice from my until she sees it, pinning her with my gaze when I swipe it away with my thumb.
"That." Her eyes are anchored to my mouth. "When are we doing that?"
"Whenever you want." I take another bite, vibrating.
"I don't have to, like, clock a hundred hours of kissing first?"
"Nope", I answer, laughing.
She practically flies off the table and in my direction. "Put me in, Coach."
When I catch her, I'm still laughing, which gets worse when she tries to climb me. I help her out, picking her up so her legs are around my waist. "Rain check."
Her pout is glorious. "Not fair." I lean in to kiss her, and she melts, humming. "You taste good." The words are hazy and dreamy, and I wish to god we didn't have somewhere to be.
"We have practice," I remind her, my hands full of her ass cheeks.
"Fuck practice." She angles for a kiss, which I grant.
"I love when you cuss." I kiss her again. "I should go."
"You cannot finger fuck that peach and then leave, Grey," she informs me.
I almost choke at the words finger fuck from her lips. "Oh, I can't?"
When I shift to set her down, she latches onto me with her arms and legs like a koala. "Don't you dare."
I sigh. Wrap an arm around her waist so I can brush her hair from her cheek. How can I deny her? How could I ever walk away?
I can quit anytime. I'm in control. I know what I'm doing.
And I tell myself lie after lie as I kiss her, dump her ass back on the table, and smirk like the greedy bastard I am.
"Anything you want, peaches."