The wait to see what’s underneath is torture, and the way her eyes light up proves she knows it. Finally, the shorts drop to her feet, revealing black lacy panties.
“What about me?” I ask, my voice husky.
“What about you?” she asks as she backs up to the counter.
Jesus, I want her. Every inch of her is sexy as fuck.
I toe my shoes off, then undo my button and fly. My jeans drop to the floor, and my boxer briefs are next.
She’s staring at me, and her tongue darts out, grazing her bottom lip.
I close the distance between us, grabbing the back of her head and bringing her mouth to mine in a collision of teeth and tongues.
She’s hungry for me, but I’m ravenous, pulling her tightly to my body and needing more of her. So much more.
I grab her panties and shove them over her hips. Then I lift her up onto the counter and spread her legs.
She looks up at me with surprise and excitement. “I thought we were going to do it in a bed this time.”
I palm her breasts, my thumbs brushing over her hard nipples, and delight in the little gasp that escapes her parted lips. “Maybe we’re not the bed-fucking type of people.”
“There’s a type?” she asks, but she sounds distracted.
I don’t answer, because I’m sucking her nipple through the lace of her bra.
She squirms, and I move to her other breast, giving it the same attention. Then she threads her fingers through my hair, and I’m so turned on, all I can think about doing is plunging hard and deep into her, but not yet. Not until I’ve tasted her again.
I release her breast and she lets out an involuntary whimper that makes me smile as I trail kisses down her belly to her mound.
Her body is tense with anticipation, and I look up as I place both hands on her inner thighs and spread them apart, sliding those maddening little panties down her legs and then off.
Her chest is heaving, her bra damp from my mouth.
My dick is throbbing as I lower my mouth to her core, and she gasps. I take my time taking her higher and higher until she’s grabbing my hair so tightly, I’m sure I’ll have bald patches when we’re done.
“Cal,” she moans, her head back, her throat exposed. “I want you inside me. Now.”
I want to make her come with my tongue first, but my internal battle between satisfying her and addressing my own needs begins to teeter.
She tugs on my hair, lifting my head slightly to meet her gaze. “Here, Cal. Now.”
I stand. “I need to get a condom.”
She grunts in protest. “You’re clean. I’m clean and on birth control. No condom. Now.”
Then she takes me in her hand and strokes. I’m so hard and ready, I won’t last long if she keeps at it, so I pull her hand away.
I rest my palms on the counter on either side of her, leaning over her, my face inches from hers. “You’re bossy.”
“Is that an insult?” she asks, but the playfulness in her eyes lets me know she’s not offended.
“Hell, no. Tell me what to do.”
Her eyes turn wicked. “Fuck me, Cal. Fuck me hard.”
Keeping my gaze on hers, I grab her hips, then center myself on her entrance and thrust in deep and hard.
She gasps, and I watch her closely to make sure I didn’t hurt her, but there’s only pleasure and need in her eyes.
“How was that?”
“It’s a good start,” she says, licking her bottom lip again.
Digging my hand into her hip, I thrust again as I cover her mouth with mine, my tongue finding hers.
She tightens around me, and I can’t get enough. I need more, and I pump fast and hard while she grabs my head and takes over our kiss, her tongue mimicking my thrusts.
I grab her ass with both hands, trying to draw her closer so I can get deeper still.
In the back of my mind, I realize my feelings for her have intensified, but I shove the thought away. There’s only Molly and me and this raw hunger that is determined to consume us both.
I’m close to the brink, but I hold on, reveling in the sounds she’s making as she climbs toward her own release. I concentrate on giving her what she needs, and then she cries out in a loud moan as she comes.
My fingers dig into her flesh as I pull her even closer. I come hard and momentarily lose all sense of where I am. All I know is that I’m wrapped up with Molly and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Chapter Twenty-One
Molly
I think it works best to rank the people in the club. Whose troubles are worst? Who needs help the most? You can let people vote on the rankings, but I think it’s best for the leader to decide. I don’t trust anyone’s opinions as much as my own.
—Augusta Glower, Bad Luck Club
I needed this. I needed him.
Even now, as he pushes into me from behind in the shower, holding me up—because, hell, my knees would absolutely collapse—it’s not enough. I need more.
A voice in my head suggests that maybe it’s not more sex that I need from Cal, maybe it’s his steadfast presence, his ability to listen. I can’t think of that now, though, with the hot water pounding into our flesh while he plunges into me again and again, his strong, capable hand moving up to my breast while the other lowers to the nexus between my legs. I put my hand over his, grabbing him as he grabs me, and then we’re both cresting that mountain together, panting and laughing, and if he weren’t holding me up, I’d crack my head on the side of the tub.
“How many more places do you think we can find?” he says into my ear before leaning in and kissing below it.
“Oh, at least a half dozen more.”
He switches off the water, and I take a moment to admire him. His muscles are wet and glistening, and his hair is plastered to his head in an endearing way that makes him look younger. It’s become a thing, finding places in the house that aren’t beds. This is our third, the second having been the stairs. Prognosis? Hot but sort of uncomfortable. I suggested we try out the shower to see if there are any plumbing problems, going along with our playacting from earlier. I wonder if Maisie would be horrified or amused if she knew.
Probably a little of both.
Would she like him?
Of course she would. They’re both fixers, after all. And, wonder of wonders, we let the dogs in from the playhouse before dinner, and although Ein still treats Cal like he’s an enemy spy, he hasn’t attempted to bite him with his sad little four-toothed mouth. That’s the Ein equivalent of humping his leg. Plus, Cal gave Chaco a Chex square from his dinner—cereal is the only type of food in the cupboards—and now she’s basically his new best friend.
I reach over and grab us both towels from the cabinet, but before toweling himself off, Cal takes mine and does the honors for me. It’s the kind of gentlemanly gesture that usually makes me roll my eyes, but he does it with such tenderness, I feel the pricking of tears.
Twice in one day? Yeah, I’m definitely going through something.
“After giving your shower a thorough examination, I declare it to be free of any problems whatsoever,” he says, wrapping his towel around his waist after using it, which is frankly a pity.