Page 121 of Not Dating Material

Molly’s it.

There’s no one else like him.

We reach my bedroom, and Molly kicks the door closed, then leans back against it.

“So …”

I smirk and reach for his pants. He’s dressed nice. All respectable and stuff. But the only thing this sexy suit makes me want to do is disrespect him in the filthiest ways possible.

“I’m going to fuck you,” I say, reeling him in by his belt loop. “Then we’re going to hydrate, eat, and I’m going to fuck you again.”

Molly’s chest hits mine, and he shivers.

“I’m going to fuck you all night until I can’t get it up, until there are no more ways for me to show you how much I want you. To show you all the ways you own me. And then when we’re done, we’re going to tell everyone we’re together.” He holds my jaw and kisses me. “Because if I have it my way, this is the start of forever. And I want to start us off right.”

“I’m swooning over here,” he murmurs. “But can you do one more thing for me?”

“Anything.”

“Say fuck again.”

I laugh. “Fuck.” I bury my nose in his hair, lips by his ear. “I’m going to fuck you, because I fucking love you, and no one else fucking compares. Fuck.”

“I’m going to need you on the bed now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oohh, I like that.”

I strip off my shirt, but before I can reach for my pants, Molly presses against my back and reaches around for my fly. He works his way down the buttons, flicking them open one by one, and my cock thickens as he brushes it.

“Tell me how you want me,” I say.

He kisses the back of my shoulder and tilts his head up toward my ear. “On the bed, handcuffed, while I take photos of you.”

A shiver runs through me, but it’s not entirely a good one. “Handcuffed?”

“You love when I hold your wrists, and I haven’t forgotten how I found you that day. Let me replace that memory with a good one. Let me put you back in control of what happened.”

I turn suddenly, wrap him in my arms, and kiss him like my life depends on it. It isn’t even something I thought I needed, but now that he’s put it out there, I do. I crave it. I want that feeling of being locked down again, knowing that it isn’t going to screw up. That it isn’t going to bring all those past vulnerabilities out in me. I want to be able to enjoy it and know that I’m safe.

With Molly, I am.

My kiss turns desperate as I shove down my jeans and then work the buttons open on his shirt. All that perfect, bare skin that I’m dying to get my ink into. To leave my permanent mark all over. He’s warm and smooth, addictive. As I grip his shoulders and push the shirt off, my hands follow it down his arms, feeling every muscle and hair on my way.

Molly’s already got his pants undone by the time I reach them, so I dip my hands down the back of his briefs and squeeze his tight ass.

He grunts, hips canting forward into mine, hard zipper scratching against the sensitive skin on my cock.

The brief flicker of pain helps me step back. I’m panting, and Molly’s lips are swollen and red. The exact shade I love on them.

“Handcuffs are in the drawer,” I say, nodding to my nightstand. Then I lie down along my bed and lift my hands over my head.

Molly kicks off his pants and hurries for the drawer. I watch him pull out handcuffs, lube, and a condom, and just the sight is enough that I almost reach for my cock.

I resist, and when Molly climbs up beside me, my hands are already in position.

He leans forward, kissing me sweetly while he fastens the metal around my wrist, then cuffs the other side to my headboard. When the lock snaps around my other wrist, I almost call this whole thing off—there’s a big difference between someone you can easily overpower restraining you and actual handcuffs—but then Molly’s thumb lightly strokes the bottom of my palm.

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