Page 195 of Fighting the Forbidden

Focus, fucker.

“Hey, seriously.” I brush my lips against her cheek. “How do you feel today?”

She sways from side to side as she rubs her thighs together. Her face pinches into a thoughtful expression. “A bit sore, but a good kind.”

Good or not, I don’t like hurting her.

“No complaints. My body goes haywire when you touch me.” She closes her eyes and slicks her tongue over her bottom lip as if just the memory of my touch has her close to orgasm.

“Touch you where?” I slide my hand along her thigh, drawing her shirt up, up, up.

She leans back, bracing her hands on the counter. “Anywhere you want.” She flicks her gaze to mine. “It even turns me on when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want more than waffles for breakfast.”

I laugh, low in my throat, then grasp her waist and boost her onto the counter. “I’m going to eat those waffles right after I make you scream.” I lift her T-shirt out of my way. “No panties. I like it.”

“They’re lost somewhere in your room.”

“We’ll find ’em.” I pat the counter next to her thigh. “Put your foot here.”

“What?” She glances toward the window. “No.”

“No one can see us from that angle.”

She hesitantly lifts one foot. “Are you sure?”

“Unless someone can levitate, they’re not seeing all the way to this corner of the kitchen.”

I wrap my fingers around her other ankle and guide it to the counter, revealing glistening skin. “God damn, I can’t get over how pretty you are.”

I bury my face against her inner thigh and nibble at her soft skin. Up close, I notice a red patch against her pale flesh. That hadn’t been there last night. “Must’ve given you a friction burn or something.” I gently brush my finger over it. “Does this hurt?”

“What?” Her body shifts as she peers down to see what I’m looking at. “No.”

I press my hands against her thighs, pushing her open wide to accommodate my face and not give her beard burn. I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale. The urge to stand and impale her on my raging morning wood seizes me.

Control yourself.

I turn and rub my mouth against her pussy, parting her lips with my tongue.

“Ohhh.” Molly moans and drags her fingers through my hair.

“That’s it.” I take another long, slow lick, then stop to kiss her swollen clit. I’m gentle as can be, but her body jolts, and she moans louder. I feather the softest touch of my tongue to her clit over and over. My hands press against her thighs, holding her wide open so I can tongue the hell out of her.

Her thighs tremble against my palms. Her arousal drips down my chin. I increase the pressure.

She lets out a sharp scream and yanks my hair. Her hips wiggle and push against my face. I stop moving and let her work herself against my tongue, groaning noises of encouragement.

“Oh, God. Gr…Griff, don’t stop. Please!”

I shake my head and she screams louder. Her whole body trembles and curls forward. I risk suffocation and take my hand off her thigh, slowly pushing two fingers inside her.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She tugs harder on my hair. I twist my fingers, searching for the spot that makes her really lose it.

The waffle maker bleats a series of high-pitched beeps, like it’s congratulating us on our performance.

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