Page 123 of Not Dating Material

He shifts back over my chest. “Here?”

He’s so close. So damn close all I need is him back just a little more for my tongue to be able to reach him. I might not be able to touch him with my hands, but I’m desperate to feel him, to make him feel good.

“Closer.”

“I would, but then I couldn’t do this …” Molly leans forward and swallows my cock again.

Now that’s a point I can’t argue with.

He preps himself while he blows me, and I’m a needy, shuddering mess at the sight of him stretching his hole only inches from my face. It’s the most delicious tease, and it’s taking all my willpower not to take over and thrust into his mouth until I come.

“I’m so close, Mols,” I warn him.

“Good because I am too.” He grabs the condom and my phone, then takes photos as he rolls the condom down my cock. “I want to ride you facing this way,” he says, dragging his fingers over my piercings again. “I want to feel these against my prostate.”

“You know I’ll give you anything you want, but help me sit up first. I don’t want you that far away.”

Molly’s delighted smile warms me to my core, and he helps me slide the handcuffs to the top of the poles, so I can sit up and hold the headboard behind me.

I’m so desperate and needy for him that when Molly presses a soft kiss to my jaw, it takes a moment to register. And when I do, I melt.

Pure goddamn sunshine.

“You okay with those?” he asks.

“Don’t worry about them; worry about my dick. He needs you!”

Molly laughs, then holds my stare as he rubs lube over my cock. The condom makes things the tiniest bit less sensitive, but it’s still a tease. Still taunting me. Still making me want to blow.

Then he flips around, knees on either side of my hips, and positions my cock under him.

“Can I take photos of you entering me?” he asks.

My dick throbs, and there’s none of the discomfort left. “Hell yeah.”

He leans forward as he sinks down onto me, phone reached around, taking shot after shot of me disappearing into his body.

It’s hard to think that I almost lost this. That I thought letting him walk away would be so much easier, when everything about us, all of this, is the easiest thing I’ve ever experienced.

He exhales slowly when I’m fully seated and leans back against my chest. I can’t touch him, so I press against him in every way I can, lips finding his neck and his jaw and his shoulder, leaving tiny kisses wherever I can drop them.

“Nothing compares to this,” I tell him.

He rolls his hips and lets out a gasp. “Oh my fucking god. Seven.” He rolls them again, and a shudder races through him. “This is … nmmgghh.”

Whatever it is, I’m left to guess because Molly rocks back and forth on me, building speed, and all he seems capable of is incomprehensible noises. His head drops back onto my shoulder, arms wrapping back behind me as he drives himself wild.

And I’m no better—every time he grinds down, he sends pressure through to my balls. Blindingly amazing pressure, the kind of pressure that could keep building and building, but I need payoff. I need relief.

“You’re killing me here.”

“Sorry, but this is … this is … so intense.” His thighs shudder, and it almost looks painful for him to stop.

Molly holds up my phone, turning the screen toward us, and then hits Play.

He finally moves up and down, and having the view over his shoulder … gahhhh.

He jerks himself off as he bounces, holding the phone out, face a wreck of lust and want. He holds my gaze through the image of us on screen, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, angry red tip of his cock peeking out from his fist with every stroke.

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