Page 46 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

“Fuck, Molly,” I groan.

“Fuck good or fuck bad?” she whispers back.

My eyes fly open. I grab her hand and press it against my fully erect cock. “You tell me, baby.”

Her eyes go wide but she doesn’t pull away. I let go of her hand, and still she stays there, stroking light fingers up and down my dick over my pants. A shiver racks my body.

“Damn that feels good.”

“I want you to feel good,” she whispers back sweetly.

I run my fingers through her hair and kiss her again before breaking away. “Anything you do will make me feel good. Believe me. I just gotta last long enough to make sureyoufeel good.”

Molly’s teeth find her lower lip. Then she says something and I swear I’m trying to listen but her fingers keep stroking me and it’s nearly impossible.

“It doesn’t always happen.”

Belatedly, my brain kicks into gear. I pull back and stare down at this beautiful woman, sure I misinterpreted. “What doesn’t always happen?”

She shrugs like I asked if she wanted chocolate ice cream or vanilla. But this topic is like heading to the finals and losing to Toronto and asking if I’m upset about the loss. It’s a big fucking deal.

“Orgasm through sex.”

Now I’m angry. Not in the lose-my-shit-and-make-a-mess-of-things kind of way. More like, I will prove this woman wrong if it’s the last thing I do on this green earth. I let go of her, only to dip down and pick her up, princess style. She lets out a surprised whoop and winds her arms around my shoulders. I stalk over to the couch and sit her down, shoving her knees apart with my shoulders and making room for myself as I crouch down.

“Lift,” I bark, hooking my fingers in her panties and tugging. She complies and I peel them off her body, tucking them into my pants pocket. She’s wet, glistening in the lamplight. The skin around her pubic bone is bright pink, waxed clean. Molly shifts her hips, like she’s nervous.

I wrench my gaze away from the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen and stare her down until she looks at me. “Did you wax this for me, baby?”

She licks her lips and nods, face taking on the same shade of pink. I grin, insanely touched that she put in so much effort for our date, also assuming we’d end up right here. “I love it. But for future reference, you don’t have to go to those lengths for me. I don’t like you in pain for some beauty standard you think you have to hit. Now put those heels on my shoulders so I can finally taste you.”

Molly sucks in air, but does as she’s told, resting first one and then the other calf on my shoulders.

“That’s it. Now relax and let me prove you wrong.”

Molly huffs, but it quickly turns to a moan as I kiss my way up one inner thigh and then the next. Her skin is so soft. So fucking perfect. I’m shaking by the time I let myself lick her center, one long drag, bottom to top, that tells me just how wet she is for me. Molly gasps above me and I smile against her flesh. It’s going to be so much fun proving her wrong. Over and over again.

Chapter Twenty

Molly

I’m having an out-of-body experience right here on my own couch—the same one where I watchThe Officewith my kid and eat Pringles out of the can while promising myself I’ll start my diet next week.

And the only stitch of clothing I’m wearing is the black lace push-up bra Ramona insisted I buy. Best friends are absolute geniuses! She also made me promise to allow myself to let go tonight and live dangerously, and I’m so glad she did.

It’s thrilling being a wanton vixen for once in my life, taking chances and doing whatever strikes me. I pinched Bobby’s nipple and threw myself at him, for goodness’ sake! And he clearly liked it! Maybe this is the start of Molly 2.0 and I’m finally entering my sex goddess era.

I moan into the quiet of the room, my back arching off the couch and causing me to slide farther down. Bobby murmurs something against my clit before flicking it with his tongue. I react by digging my heels into his shoulder blades so hard I’m afraid I might impale him with my stilettos.

Does every straight adult man know how to do this expertly, or did I just luck out with Bobby? Because I can say with certainty that my two high school and college boyfriends were complete amateurs. And Blake? He generally avoided the task, which was fine with me. The last thing you want is for your sexual partner to engage in an activity that doesn’t turn them on.

But I can tell from the sounds Bobby is making over my clit that going down on me is his version of a kid in a candy store. Who knew? I can’t wait to return the favor.

He licks and nuzzles my center again before his tongue delves inside me, and a shiver of ecstasy consumes my entire body. I’m hot and cold, relaxed and restless, excited and scared shitless—all at the same time.

“Fuck, you taste good,” Bobby rumbles when he comes up for air, never giving me a moment of reprieve as his fingers take over where his tongue left off. They twist and swirl, working me into a frenzy that has only one place to go.

His lips and clean-shaved chin glisten in the lamplight, and I’m too turned on to be embarrassed or freaked out to know it’s my own arousal on his skin. I open my mouth to say something, but the only thing to come out is another moan when he hooks his finger inside me and hits the bullseye like a master archer. Damn, he’s good at this—and I refuse to ponder the reason. Nope.

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