He pauses. “Molly, are we going to start ‘working up’ to things today? I need to know. Now.”
His voice is strained. I realize his whole body is tensed up. He’s a hair trigger, and I’m the one who’s going to pull it.
“Now,” I repeat. “Today. Yes. Now.”
I’m on my back before I realize what’s happening. The heavy weight of him presses into me again, leaving me breathless. My ankles lock behind him, my heels digging into his ass, and he nuzzles against the soft skin behind my ear before he tugs my earlobe between his teeth. I swear again.
Gravity shifts a second time as he rolls us over. He stretches out on his back beneath me, my thighs on either side of him. He tugs me forward so he can grip my waist, and then slides his hands under my t-shirt. My spine arches reflexively when his rough palms brush my lower back. My pelvis flexes against his.
“Câlice.” His face looks almost pained as he mutters something in French I can’t make out.
The sight fills me with a rush of power that’s foreign but immediately addictive, like getting hooked on the first hit of a new liquid in your veins. I tug my lip between my teeth as I flex against him, rolling my hips to press the part of me that’s aching for him against the part of him that’s straining for me.
“Fuck, Molly. Now you’re just teasing me.”
I let out a throaty laugh that’s more seductive than any sound I thought I could make. His hands don’t seem to know where they want to be most; they slide over the curve of my ass, dip into the waistband of my jeans, and slip back up under my shirt. The t-shirt is loose enough that my boobs are practically in his face when I’m bent over like this. I catch him staring at my chest like he’s found the key to eternal salvation. His fingers brush the back of my bra and then still as he glances at my face for permission.
I want his mouth on my breasts so bad I can practically feel it already, so I straighten up enough to pull my t-shirt over my head and unhook my bra. The pretty peach lace is one of the nicest things I own, but I don’t waste time giving him a chance to appreciate it.
“Christe alors.”
His voice gets almost savage once I’m finally bared to him. I don’t have time to feel self-conscious before he’s yanking me down and trailing frantic kisses over every inch of my chest. I cry out when his tongue flicks my nipple. He lets out a devilish chuckle and does it again and again until I’m shaking and thrusting uncontrollably against the ridge in his jeans.
“Get on your back.”
He shifts me around until I’m obeying his order, lying on my back on the bed while he props himself on his side next to me and trails his fingers over my skin.
“Do you want to keep going?”
The whimper that goes along with my nod is answer enough.
“What do you want, Molly? What do you want today?”
“I want...I want you to make me come.” I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t. I just feel the same swell of power I did before as I guide his hand between my legs. “Like this.”
He seems to be beyond words now; he just pants like a predator in my ear as he cups me hard over my jeans. I squirm. He reaches for the button and zipper, then prompts me to lift my hips up as he slides the denim a few inches down my legs. My underwear is made of the same peach lace, and he strokes the dainty fabric a few inches above where I need him most.
He’s silent as he works his fingers lower, teasing and tempting like I’m an instrument he already knows how to play. I can feel the tension building inside me before he’s even moved beneath the lace. When he finally does, I gasp at the sensation, thrusting my hips up to meet his fingers as they trace the length of my folds.
“You’re so wet.” He says it reverently.
There’s no warning before his finger plunges inside me, just the shock of the pressure. He slides all the way in and crooks it at just the right angle to make me see stars.
“Oh my god.Ohmy god.”
He pulls out just before he starts building a rhythm, spreading my wetness onto my clit so he can stroke it with his thumb as he presses two fingers inside me this time. I clench my teeth together and grab at fistfuls of the blanket while he continues. His strokes get faster and harder until the fuse inside me has almost burnt down to the end. I cup my breast with one hand and tease my own nipple, edging closer and closer to the finish line.
JP swears at the sight and twists so he can press his mouth to my shoulder. He bites down, and the shock of pain is enough to send me over the edge. I come, bucking against his hand and crying out as a rush of sound seems to swell in my head, blotting the whole world out. There’s nothing but oblivion, just a swirling blackness streaked with shooting stars.
I’m dimly aware of myself thrashing on the bed. When I finally open my eyes, the sight of JP stretched out beside me fills my whole vision. He’s staring at me like he’s watched some cataclysmic event, like a hurricane just ripped right through the centre of his world. His expression is so awed it verges on terrified, and I know mine must look the same.
The full impact of the moment just hit us both at the same time.
This is more than sex. This is more than friendship. This is a force of nature we’re trying to hold in our hands.
“I want everything with you.” His whispers my own words back to me, like they’re a spell he’s scared to utter out loud. “Everything.”
