Page 46 of Butter You Up
The thought makes my footsteps stutter as I carry silverware over. Falling for? Jesus, this is bad. Molly’s leaving, and here I am mooning over romantic dinners. We haven’t even had sex yet.
But then Molly looks over her shoulder at me, warmth in her gaze and a hint of a teasing smile on her lips, as if she can read my mind. No matter what we have or haven’t done, how much time we have left, it doesn’t matter at all.
I’m still a goner.
* * *
After dinner I send Molly out on the porch with a replenished glass of wine and Trixie at her heels while I do dishes. But the time I dry my hands, the daylight is finally fading, and I snag a blanket before stepping out to join her. “I thought you might get cold.”
Molly smiles up at me from her Adirondack chair. “You thought right. However…”
She jumps up, holding her wine glass, and gestures for me to sit. I do, and Molly climbs into my lap, arranging our limbs until she’s snug against my chest, the blanket draped over the arm of the chair instead of us.
She hums in contentment. “You’re so warm.”
We drink our wine and watch the daylight fade. I can hear the animals in the barn, the insects up in the trees, and occasionally, Trixie sighs at our feet. Molly’s damp hair is soaking through my shirt, but I couldn’t care less.
Here I am again, being sappy. This is the kind of evening a man could get used to. Granted, most nights I don’t have Perry staying late and taking care of the animals.
I better put this night to good use. Who knows if I’ll get another one before Molly takes off?
I put my wine glass down with a decisive click, and Molly hands me hers, still half full, which I put down next to mine. Briefly, I wonder if we’re having the same thoughts because when I reach down for Molly, she’s reaching up for me. This kiss is harder and more impatient, and soon, I’m half-turned in the chair, craning over a slumped Molly, her head back against the armrest and my mouth at her throat.
That damn flannel of mine that she’s been wearing has been driving me crazy all night. She buttoned it so low I could see the valley between her breasts. The same valley my lips are working toward right now. From below, my hands slide up her waist, and I cup my palm along her ribs right under her breast. She’s burning up here, and I feel thebum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bumof her racing heart against my palm.
“Alex,” she whispers, and it’s breathy with a hint of begging. I don’t have enough hands to do everything I want to do: hold her mouth to mine, feel her hair between my fingers, pinch her nipple, slide into the boxers she’s wearing and confirm that she’s bare underneath. When I’d found her underwear in the pile of clothes, I’d clenched it for a moment, dizzy knowing that Molly had been wearing blue string bikini panties all day.
“Alex.” This time it's firmer and accompanied by a tug on my hair. I remove my lips from her skin and look up, loving the glaze of arousal in her eyes. “We are literally two rooms over from your bed. Can we please?—”
I stand before she can finish her sentence and scoop her out of the chair. She laughs, and Trixie scrambles to her feet behind us with an excitedwoofbecause the humans are playing.
When I step into my bedroom, I tell Trixie, “Go to your room,” and my dog darts into her bed.
“Oh my god,” Molly says. “I forgot to tease you about that. Your dog has a pink—oof!”
I peel back my comforter and drop Molly on my mattress, covering my mouth with hers. Her laugh turns into a moan, and she wraps herself around me. I grab her thigh, flexing my body to grind my hard cock between her legs while continuing our kiss.
Molly’s giving as good as she’s getting, arching up to rub against me. “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good,” I mumble between kisses.
“Alex, please, I need you.”
Those words shoot straight to my dick, and I rear back, gripping both sides of my flannel and yanking. Buttons—the few that Molly had done up—fly across the room. I place an open-mouthed kiss on one breast and then the other. Molly’s outright writhing beneath me. While my mouth works, sucking and nipping, I shove the boxers down Molly’s thighs and then smooth a hand down her belly, through her soft curls, and into her wet, slippery cunt.
Molly cries out, and I listen, paying attention to every cry and gasp while I work my fingers inside her, my thumb against her clit, my tongue against her nipple until her body tenses and clamps around my fingers. Her silent scream arches her chest up, and her hands thread into my hair, holding me to her while she comes.
I slow, easing my fingers out and gentling my tongue, until Molly hums in satisfaction.
Pushing up on one hand, I gaze down at her. Her eyes are lidded, and her freckles stand out from her cheeks, which are flushed and plump with a smile.
“Please tell me you have a condom.”
“Fuck yeah I do.” After our first kiss, I checked my stash and resupplied condoms and lube—something I tried to sneak into a bag of groceries, but Kit found and teased me for.
I sit up, put my fingers in my mouth to clean them off, and then pull my shirt off over my head.
When I can see her again, Molly is chuckling.
“What?”
