Page 53 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

“So? You just said you thought Kaitlyn was my type, and guess what? She’s forty and has a kid too.”

“Wow! She’s got great skin,” is my only response.

“She probably moisturizes with the tears of endangered baby seals.”

I choke out a laugh. “What?”

“She’s a hard-ass, to put it mildly. I’m actually a little frightened by her. Scratch that. A lot frightened.”

“Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“You should definitely continue seeing your therapist.”

His chest shakes again, and I smile against the soft fabric of his shirt. Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bobby

I’m nervous. Not because my dumbass brother was here. Not because our dates haven’t gotten better every single day this week—they most definitely have. I’m nervous because I want more, and I brought Molly back here to try to get her to agree to being official. I feel like I’m sixteen again, trying to ask a girl to be my girlfriend.

“Okay, so hear me out.”

Molly groans and pulls her head off my chest. She tips her head back with a pout and her red painted lips look so kissable I want to forget about everything I was about to say and just take her straight to my bed. And because I have the attention span of a gnat and the libido of a bull, I do. I dip my head, nibble on her mouth, and sweep her up into my arms to stalk into my bedroom. The lights are off and not even the half-moon shining through the windows can illuminate enough for my preferences. I refuse to not see her beautiful body while I strip her naked. Why deny myself that pleasure?

Laying her on the bed, I pause to light two candles I had in my room mostly for hurricane season in case the building lost power. After several sleepovers at her place, she’s finally stopped fighting me on the lights, but I also figure candlelight might be a nice compromise to make her more comfortable.

“Hey. Is that my perfume?”

My head whips up to see the incriminating bottle still on my nightstand. Shit. I really should have returned that to her.

“Umm. Yeah. You left it in Wolverine that first day.” I try to brush it off and distract her by prying the heels off her feet and tossing them over my shoulder.

Molly pins me with a pointed look, one eyebrow hitched higher than the other. “Have you been sniffing my perfume, Robert?”

“Oh fuck,” I whine. “You can’t call me Robert and not expect me to tell you all my secrets. Yes, I sniffed your perfume and even whacked off to it one time. Just once, I swear. I want you, Molly.Havewanted you. Happy now?”

“Yes, actually,” she answers softly. She positions herself up on her elbows and nods toward me with a silent request. I quickly divest myself of the polo and slacks. When I’m down to the latest funderpants that I bought with her in mind–floating black stilettos on a bright pink background–she tosses her head back and laughs, exposing the long column of her throat. Fuck, she’s sexy as hell without even trying.

“See? It’s fun to watch, isn’t it?” I tease her, wanting to see that blush on her face. After shoving the funderpants down my legs, I grab the base of my already hard cock and get my wish.

“When the naked specimen is that nice, yes.”

I crawl over her body and she flattens to the mattress below me. My dick bops her on the chin. It’s hilarious to watch her try to decide whether she should look me in the eye like a proper good girl or watch my dick like she wants to.

“See that evidence, Molly?” I point at the erection that’s lengthening even more under her scrutiny, like it’s trying to reach her mouth. “Believe me when I say the naked specimen I get to watch is even nicer.”

She drags her wide-eyed gaze back to my face. “Can I try something?”

“Baby, you can do anything you want.” And I mean it. Watching Molly’s sexual confidence grow in just the last week has been fascinating to witness. I really don’t think she was ever sexually satisfied in her previous relationships. Which means I have plans to fulfill every fantasy she never knew she had.

She lifts up and strips her blouse over her head, quickly unlocking the front clasp of her bra and peeling that off too. Her gorgeous boobs tumble out, more than a handful each. She cups her own breasts together and looks up at me. “Fuck my tits, please.”

If I’d been any younger, I would have come on the spot. The visual of Molly’s breasts served up on a platter for me, her request to fuck her, even the use of that language from her proper mouth. Damn. This is why I like older women: confidence that grows by leaps and bounds.

I grit my teeth hard to hold myself back. “Give it a little lube, baby.”

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