Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
The paper crinkles as I unfold it.
Molly’s girlish print fills the page with a very simple message.
Dear Griff, I’m ready. Please make love to me. Love, Molly
And in case my brain was too scrambled to read the words, she doodled a cherry on its stem and written “yours” with an arrow pointing toward the fruit.
“You said you needed it in writing,” Molly teases.
Laughing, I fold the note and set it on my nightstand. I want to laminate it and carry it in my wallet for the rest of my damn life except if anyone ever accidentally saw her sweet, personal note to me, I’d have to carve out their eyeballs.
“Actually, you’re the one who wanted to put it in writing,” I remind her. “But I’m not complaining.”
Just thinking of Molly taking the time to write those words and the intention behind them has me harder than a fucking hammer. I reach for her, cup her cheek, and rub my thumb over her bottom lip. “I still want to hear you say a certain phrase.”
Her skin warms and she glances down. “Griff, will you—”
“Look at me,” I demand.
Her chest rises and falls as she slowly drags her gaze to mine. “I want to learn how to come on your cock.”
“Fuuuck,” I groan, “Yes.”
I cup her cheeks with my hands and encourage her to kneel at the edge of the bed, then lean down to press my lips to hers. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“I haven’t done anything, yet.”
“Yes, you have.” More than I can put into words.
“Hmmm.” She slides her hands over my shoulders and down my chest. My skin’s still damp from the rain but my cock’s straining against the thick terry cloth towel. Molly cups me and purses her lips. “You really liked hearing me say that.”
I grunt out a sound that’s meant to be a yes but words are too difficult when she’s rubbing and exploring. With monumental effort, I shackle my hand around her wrist and stop her.
“I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” I warn. “Stand up for me. Let me look at you.”
With a slow gracefulness only Molly’s capable of, she slides off the bed and stands so close the heat from her skin ripples over mine.
Oh, Christ. In the flickering light, she’s extra beautiful. “I wanted to undress you slowly.” I slip my fingers under the strap of her bra, playing with it.
“And I wanted to surprise you.”
“I’m surprised.” I can’t stop my gaze from roaming over every beautiful inch of her. Even in the dancing golden light, I’m able to see through the sheer material of her bra. Hard pink nipples press against the netting. I step back and soak in every inch. The simple triangle of her pale purple lace underwear leaves her looking both innocent and wicked. Wait a second. My gaze zeroes in on the small dots scattered over her underwear. Little red and green embroidered cherries. I lift my eyes to her bra. Same little decoration. How the fuck’d I miss that?
I rub my thumb over one of the little cherries. “You really did plan this night, didn’t you?”
“Down to the last detail. Well, except for the blackout.” She nods to the little candles carefully arranged into a heart shape on the nightstand. “You just noticed?”
Gently, I place one hand on her hip and cup her breast with my other. “Forgive me. I’m pleasantly overwhelmed here.” My thumb brushes over the hard tip of her nipple, and her body jolts.
“You’re forgiven,” she whispers through shaky breaths.
Her hands settle on my chest. At first, it’s as if she wants to push me away but then her fingers curl over my shoulder. Her forehead pinches into a frown and she lowers her lashes. “How many girls have you had here, Griff?”
Huh? What kind of question is that?
“None.” More heat than I want enters my voice, and I try to smooth out my tone. “I told you there hasn’t been anyone else for a long time. And definitely not in this apartment.” Calmer, I add, “I made up my mind a long time ago. You’re all I want. I rented this place for us.”
The tension that gathered seems to drain out of her, replaced by something else. The need to have her hot skin against mine overwhelms me. She places her palm on my stomach, then slides it to the knotted towel at my hip.
“You remember the night I came to see you fight in Ironworks?” She teases her fingers against the edge of the towel.
First time I finally kissed her. “How could I forget?”
“You were in a towel then too.” She tugs at the knot and slides her tongue over her bottom lip. “I wished I was brave enough to rip it off you.”
“Do it now.” My hand tangles in her hair, drawing her closer. “I’m all yours.”