Chapter 33 This Is How It Ends #3
Open mouthed, our tongues meet first, lips sealing for deep, filthy kiss.
Let her taste herself on my tongue, her hands weakly gripping my shoulders.
And I swallow every little sound, wanting to crawl inside her, wanting to be a part of her.
I don't care what this means, what it costs, as I gather her into my chest. She collapses there, boneless, her face buried in my neck, her breath humid against my skin. And I hold her tight, so tight.
"Holy shit," she finally breathes like she always does, and we chuckle. I kiss the top of her head.
"You okay?"
"Nope, I think I'm dead. You killed me."
She shifts, brushing my painfully hard cock. Every time she moves against me, it throbs.
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.
"Tell me what you want," she says.
I close my eyes and swallow hard. Then catch her wrist, bring her hand to my chest.
"Come here first." I pull her into me, cover her mouth with mine.
The kiss is slow, deep, grounding, a redirection of my desperation.She melts into it. I use the moment, focus on her lips, her taste, the warmth of her body until I can't feel my heartbeat in my cock anymore. I'm still hard as steel, but the knife edge of need has dulled. Not much, but enough.
In seconds, her hand is wrapped around my cock, stroking slow, like she's enjoying the feel of me in her palm.
She leans back to break the kiss, still stroking me. "Tell me what to do, Grey. Tell me what you want."
There are too many answers, most I couldn't speak.
So I guide her between my thighs. Watch her settle on her stomach, propped on her elbows, the position pressing her tits together, the fresh marks on her pale flesh visible.
Her face is right there, just inches from my cock.
When her breath ghosts across it, it twitches.
Her eyes wide. "It moved."
"It does that," I say on a little chuckle.
"Get comfortable. Start with touch." I wait, trying not to think about her tits pressed against me while she shifts around, then reaches out to wrap her hand around me.
This part she knows--she watches my face, learning, curious.
Then my cock, her eyes growing hungry again. "Now your tongue. The tip to start."
Tentatively, she leans in, tongue extended, and licks the cleft.
The shock of it--wet heat, soft tongue--kicks the air from my lungs. My body snaps, every muscle locking with a jerk. My hand flies to the back of her neck, gripping her hair gently just to hang on.
The sight alone--Molly between my thighs, her tongue on my cock--could end me.
She pulls back slightly, thoughtful. Then leans back in and licks again, this time broader, tonguing the slit when she reaches the top.
"Soft," she mutters as I try and fail and keep my cool. "Keep licking?"
A shudder works through me. "If you want. Or you can .take me into your mouth Just the tip. Suck gently--"
She wraps her lips around me, and my vision whites out. Soft lips stretched, tongue pressing the underside--I can't think. Can't breathe. Every nerve ending fires at once.
Molly, learning me. Wanting me.
It's almost too much to bear.
"Fuck--oh my fuck-"
Emboldened, she experiments, tongue flicking, paying attention to what makes me react and leaning into it. Learning. Watching.
Fast learner. Too fast.
"Take more if you want. As much as you can."
She slides me deeper, inch by inch, mouth stretching around me. I close my eyes. If I watch her I'm fucked.
Until she gags, then pulls back, coughing. "Sorry--"
I stroke her face, her hair. "Don't. You're doing so good. Just go slow. Use your hand on what doesn't fit."
She tries again, this time stroking my base, her head bobbing slow at first. She finds a rhythm, mouth and hand working together, slow and deliberate. The suction. The wet sounds. Her drag of tongue.
I watch, transfixed. Her jaw is open wide, her mouth full of me, the concentration on her face, the little hum of satisfaction when I groan. She's enjoying this. Wants this. My chest tightens, something bigger than lust twisting through me.
I'm already close, torn between wanting to draw out my pleasure and putting me out of my misery.
My sac is drawn up tight, thighs trembling.
Every stroke of her tongue and pull of her lips drags me closer to the edge.
I wanted it to last, wanted to memorize every second, the sight of her, the feel of her.
But I can't hold on. Not with her looking up at me like that, dark eyes full of heat and determination.
She owns me, completely.
She hollows her cheeks, and my back snaps off the bed.
Pleased with herself, she hums, and the vibration nearly kills me.
"Oh fuck--don't hum--too much--"
She does it again, very much on purpose. Teasing me, little brat.
I fucking love it.
My hips want to thrust, need to thrust, but I dig my heels into the mattress, sheets in one hand, the other in her hair, too tight. What little control I have left is slipping, but I don't want to scare her. Don't want to hurt her.
But I can't help it--I flex my hips shallow, just once. But she feels it.
She pulls off, panting, to look up at me.
"Do you want to--need to--"
Fuck my mouth? She can't even finish the question.
"No, you're in control. Just feels so fucking good."
She smiles and goes back down on me, taking me deeper this time until my thighs are trembling, my balls drawn up tight and stomach muscles taut. My hand is fisted in her hair. But I can only back off of one thing--relax my fist, and my hips buck.
"Molly, I'm close," I manage, the words of warning ragged, giving her an out. She doesn't take it. "You don't have to-"
Her gaze snaps up to mine, annoyed, which, if I wasn't about to blow, would almost be comical with her mouth full of my cock. She sucks harder.
And that's all the answer I need.
She knows what she's in for. She knows how this works. She wants to taste me.
Never could tell her no.
The last of my control slips away, and I'm lost in the feeling of her silky mouth.
"Oh, fuck. That's.--I can't--Molly, I'm gonna come--now."
She sucks one last time, and I'm gone, back arching, can't control it.
My hips thrust, not hard, but up, and she takes it, doesn't pull off.
Her name tears from my throat as I come hard in blinding bursts, cock pulsing, filling her mouth.
She makes a surprised sound, swallowing, but I'm still coming, another pulse, another.
Come drips from the corner of her mouth.
It's been too long, I'm too wound up, coming so hard she can't keep up.
Finally, she pulls back, gasping for air, her hand still stroking, still milking the last pulses with come on her lips, her chin, licking them out of utility, watching hungrily as my cock pumps and empty until it's finally through.
I sag into the bed, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. My limbs are shaking, breath sawing in and out of me, my arm slung over my face. I'm shaking all over. Feel her climb up the bed, into my side, and I curl around her.
That was--fuck. I don't have words.
Not just the physical release, though god knows I needed that. But the way she looked at me. The way she wanted me with her body and her heart and her soul.
No one's ever-- looked at me like that. No one’s ever
I can't finish the thought.
"Are you okay?" she asks me this time. And I chuckle, shifting my arm to look at her.
"I'm fucking great. Are you okay?"
"Mhmm. I like watching you come." She laughs nervously. "Is that weird?"
"Fuck no." I tuck a curl behind her ear. "I live for watching you come. Knowing I'm the one who made you feel that way? It's everything."
She smiles, flushes. "I thought that too last week. But when I come it's boring. When you come? It's…it's messy and violent and—“ She sighs. "It's so hot."
Smirking, I look down at her, tip her chin so she'll look at me. "It's so hot that you think it's so hot," I say, then kiss her.
It's slow and lazy and deep, the taste of myself on her tongue sending a fresh shiver through me. The deeper the kiss, the more of myself I pour into it, into her. Gratitude and possession. Need. And she melts into me, hands in my hair, kissing me back as needful as me until it's too much.
The kiss breaks when I part us to pull her closer, hold her tight, maybe too tight. But she doesn't complain. Just sighs, content. I should be satisfied--I haven't come that hard in years. I should be sated.
But I'm not.
The ache is still there, deeper than before.
It's not enough. It'll never be enough.
More. Everything. Her.
This, again and again and again.
My cock twitches against her thigh, interested already, the bastard.
Impossible. I should be dead for hours.
But not when it comes to her.
I'm too high on her to know just how much I've already put on the line.
I won't figure it out until it's too late.