Page 61 of Where's Molly

I writhe beneath him, grinding my hips against him and hoping to God he does fucking drown. My nails scrape against his scalp, and if I couldhook them beneath his flesh and force him to make me come, I'd happily show him what it means to be a puppet.

My eyes roll as I get close again, and for the second time, he pulls away.

A frustrated scream bursts from my throat, but before I can spit a threat at him, he grabs the underside of my thighs and pushes them forward until my lower back is lifted off the bed and my knees are hiked to my ears. I'm folded in half, my core less than a foot from my face.

Within seconds, his mouth is covering my pussy again, and this time, he's showing me exactly what he's doing to me. With perfect precision, he strokes my clit, my arousal and his saliva pouring down my mound and dripping onto my breasts.

Cries stream from my throat as I grip his forearms, red crescents forming in his flesh. Once more, he's driving me directly toward the edge. My thighs shake violently in his hold as he feasts on me like a starving animal driven to madness from hunger.

“Cage, I'm going to come. Please,please, let me come,” I beg breathlessly. “Let me drown you.”

A growl unleashes from his chest, vibrating against me. Dark green eyes are pinned to me as he viciously sucks on my clit, his tongue unrelenting.

My throat closes and my vision blackens a moment before I explode. The scream that unleashes is so sharp, it leaves my throat raw. Colorful fireworks detonate behind my pinched eyes, filling the blackness with a mirage of blues, pinks, greens, and purples.

I don't know how long I'm submerged beneath the storm, but distinctly, I can feel my body seizing furiously. Yet, he holds on tome with a firm grip, keeping me in place as he continues to lap at my cunt until I have nothing left to give.

After what feels like forever, I come down from an experience that could only be described as an exorcism.

“Jesus f-fucking Christ,” I stutter, my voice cracking and shaken, my mouth almost feeling numb.

His gaze is fierce. “If you're asking Him to save you, then I will nail Him onto that fucking cross again. You will be my ruin, but onlyIwill be your savior.”

Molly

Nine Years Ago

2013

Even if I hadthe brain function to respond, I wouldn't know how.

Gently, he drops my trembling legs back onto the bed, only to draw his t-shirt over his head.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I keep the words to myself this time, but a small gasp manages to slip free.

His body is sculpted better than the marble statues of gods in museums across the world. Chiseled to pure perfection, with black tattoos covering his stomach, chest, and down his arms.

The gray sweatpants he’s wearing do nothing to hide his hard cock, and the moment I lay eyes on it, I immediately wish I hadn’t. In this case, maybe ignorance would’ve been bliss.

“Cage, I don’t know if I can handle it,” I say hesitantly, now extremely cautious of trying to take all of him inside me. I’m unsure how I’d even fit it in my goddamnmouth.

“It’ll fit, baby,” he assures confidently, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and sliding them down his thick thighs, and off his legs.

His cock is even more intimidating without the clothing over it, and much bigger than I thought. But, fuck, is it beautiful. Long and deliciously thick, with pulsing veins cording throughout it. He’s perfectly proportioned, and even the swollen head has me aching to suck on it.

“Keep staring at me like that, and I’ll give that little mouth of yours more than it can handle.”

It takes effort to drag my gaze up to his, my expression twisted with apprehension. “That’s not going to fit.”

He grins devilishly. “It’ll fit.”

I give him a look that tells him just how wrong I think he is, though that only widens his smirk. He oozes confidence, and while I’m still incredibly terrified of the beast between his legs, I do feel at ease that he knows what he’s doing.

“Do you want to watch me prove you wrong?” he asks lowly, his voice deepening. Reaching over to his discarded sweats, he plunges his hand into the pocket and produces a foil packet.

He brought protection.

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