Walk On The Wild Side (23 page)

“Here, try,” he said, offering her the bite of venison he’d speared onto his fork.

She wrinkled her nose. “Eat Bambi? No thank you,” she said and took a bite of her rib eye, cooked perfectly medium rare. While many citizens of Big Timber were hunters, growing up in a family of women, Molly had never understood the joys of shooting a fuzzy woodland creature for sport.

“Plain old cow is good enough for me.”

He made a scoffing sound. “Only because Disney never made a movie about a black angus. Come on, when have I ever put anything in your mouth that wasn’t delicious?” he said with a wolfish grin.

She cocked an eyebrow at him and couldn’t stifle her own smile. She tentatively parted her lips and accepted the bite. It wasn’t terrible, in fact, it was quite tasty, like steak with an earthier flavor. She told him as much. “But I still can’t get the image of Bambi and Thumper out of my head.”

“So I guess you’ll neg my idea to put rabbit stew on the menu this winter?”

By the time dessert came Molly was too full to have more than a couple bites of the salted caramel mousse drizzled with chocolate sauce. “Just as well,” she said as the waitress cleared it away. “They say the camera adds ten pounds, in which case I’m going to look like moose.”

“Hottest moose I’ve ever seen.”

She gave his hand arm a swat.

“You’ve got something here.” He reached out and grazed his thumb over her bottom lip. The simple touch sent a shock of heat through her. He sucked the smear of chocolate off his thumb, turning her mind sharply to all of the other things those firm lips had sucked.

She wished suddenly, intensely, that they were alone.

Evidently he felt the same. He quickly waved the waitress over and handed her his credit card to expedite the check. Within minutes he had her hand wrapped tightly in his and was walking purposefully to the door.

###

The drive from Livingston had taken half an hour on the way here. He made it back to her house in twenty.

Brady pulled up into Molly’s driveway, his dick so hard he wondered how there was enough blood left in his head to function enough for the drive home.

He got out of the truck and quickly moved to open her door before she could. Because hell, while he fully intended to have her coming her brains out within the next five minutes, chivalry wasn’t dead.

She gave him a little smile and took his hand as he helped her out of the truck and walked her to her door. As she dug in her purse for her keys he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She unlocked the door and he followed her into the entryway, turning her in his arms.

“Will you think I’m trashy if I invite you in after only one date?” she teased.

“I’m counting on it,” he murmured and covered her mouth with his as she shrugged her coat off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

He pushed her up against the door, his one palm closing over a silk covered breast while the other reached for the hem of her skirt. His fingers slid up the curve of her nylon clad inner thigh and she parted her legs.

Heat sizzled in his palm as he cupped her sex, grinding the heel of his hand against her, frustrating them both as the tights prevented him from getting to her bare skin. “Fucking pantyhose,” he muttered against her neck.

“They’re tights,” she laughed softly and pulled away. “Let me go take them off.”

“Let me,” he said and started to reach for her.

She backed away with a laugh. “Let me go change into something more comfortable.”

Brady grinned and let her go, hoping that meant last night’s outfit would make a reappearance.

He toed off his shoes, made himself at home on the couch, and took the opportunity to check in with Jordan.

At Molly’s. Home in a couple hours.

Jordan’s reply was instantaneous.
Cool. Don’t forget to practice safe sex.

Brady rolled his eyes, smiling as he remembered his awkward attempt to broach the subject earlier this week. Jordan had held up his palms as though to fend him off “Dude, you don’t need to worry. I don’t want to knock anyone up or get something that’s going to fuck up my junk.”

He put his phone down, blood surging with anticipation when he heard the telltale sound of high heels tapping down the hallway.

He’d hoped for an encore of last night’s outfit, and Molly didn’t disappoint. But tonight she’d forgone the robe and was clad only in the silk slip a few shades lighter than her creamy skin. He could see the faint pink of her nipples jutting clearly outlined by the thin fabric. He licked his lips, mouthwatering at the thought of sucking them into his mouth.

She stopped in the middle of the room. She gave him a teasing look from under her lashes and turned a little to the right and the left. “You like?”

I love.
The words stuck in his mouth, heat roaring through him as she walked over to him in a slow, hip swaying strut.

She stopped in front of him, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a tell-tale gesture. He realized, despite her swagger, there was still a kernel of insecurity. Damned if he didn’t want to prove to her that with him, there was nothing to feel insecure about.

He leaned forward and caught her around the hips, a low sound of pleasure rumbling in his throat at the feel of the silky fabric shifting over her soft curves.

He pressed his open mouth against her stomach, working his way up until he was nuzzling the under curves of her breasts.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he whispered, moving his mouth over the plump flesh, loving the way she moaned and shuddered as he sucked a nipple into his mouth through the silk. Sucking, biting, lashing her with his tongue as Molly’s fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt.

He could have feasted on her for hours if she’d let him.

But Molly had different ideas. She spread his shirt open and he took his mouth off her long enough so he could shrug it off.

She cupped his face in her hands and leaned down to feed him a hot, tongue-thrusting kiss. One knee came down on the couch cushion next to him and she slid her lips from his, down his neck, his chest, until she was tracing the outline of his ab muscles gone taut with anticipation.

He held his breath as she slid to her knees, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. His cock was so hard the head was already peeking out of the waistband of his boxer briefs, and Molly wasted no time in tugging it down so she could take him into her hot little hands.

Gripping him at the base, she slid her hand up, down.

A bead of pre-come beaded at the tip. The naughty smile she flashed him had him throbbing even harder in her fist.

That was nothing compared to the need that jolted through him when her tongue flicked out and swirled around the swollen head of his cock, dipping in the crease to lap up the moisture.

She traced her tongue down his length, then up, teasing, torturous caresses that had his hips involuntarily rocking and surging, trying to get his cock deeper in her mouth.

And then her plump, pink lips closed over him. The sight of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth was so fucking sexy he dug his fingers into the couch cushions and recited the offensive line for the Seahawks so he wouldn’t blow in her mouth right then and there.

She sucked him deep, and every sinew in his body went tight with need. He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made it worse. Or better. All he knew was that the feel of her hot mouth sucking him, her tongue flicking at the sensitive spot at the base of the head, her fist pumping in a perfect rhythm, all became about a thousand times more intense.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. “Molly, I’m going to… if you don’t want…”

Instead of pulling away, she increased her efforts, sucking him deeper, pumping him harder, until he let out a roar, coming hard as she sucked him until the last pulse of his orgasm faded.

He collapsed back against the couch and gazed at her, barely able to keep his eyes open. One flimsy strap of the slip had slid down her shoulder and one perfect breast threatened to spill out. Her lips were dark pink and swollen and the look in her eyes was equal parts triumph and arousal.

He reached for her with a lazy grin and pulled her up onto his lap.

“You’re right. Everything you put in my mouth is delicious.”

He laughed, cupped his hand around the back of her head, and pulled her down for a kiss. He should have been down for the fucking count, but the taste of her, sweet and salty mingling with the deeper, muskier taste of himself, had his cock twitching back to life, eager for round two.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured and nipped at her bottom lip.

“Only with you,” she whispered, and gave him a nip of her own.

“Well don’t I feel special,” he said and kissed her again.

“You should,” she said. “I don’t dress up in expensive negligées and go down on just anyone.”

“And I don’t come so hard I think my brain is going to explode with just anyone, so we’re even.”

“Another stroke?”

“Are you kidding? After three weeks with you, it’s a miracle I’m still alive. It’ll be a wonder if I make it through the next five years.”

She pulled her mouth away, her eyes widening a little. He wondered what her reaction would be if he’d said fifty years, which was what he’d really been thinking.

“We’ll probably slow down at some point,” she finally whispered.

“But not for a while,” he said as his hand trailed down her thigh and slid under the hem of her slip. He kissed her, skimmed his hand along the smooth skin of her thigh, up around the equally smooth curve of her ass.

He lifted her, shifting their position so she was lying back along the couch. The hem of the slip had worked its way higher, now barely covering the triangle of blond curls between her legs. So open, so unselfconscious. So different from the first night they spent together, when she’d worried about being naked in front of him, worried about what he’d think of her body.

“You are so beautiful.”

Her swollen lips curved into a smile. “When you say it I actually believe you.”

He slid his hand up the inside of her knee, urging her legs apart, and wrapped his hand around her slim ankle. He lifted it, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her calf and settled one high heel clad foot on his shoulder.

She gazed up at him, her blue eyes electric with desire. H could see the slick folds of her sex, flushed dark pink and wet with need.

Mouthwatering, he lowered his head and kissed her, tenderly at first. Then with firmer strokes of his tongue and sucks of his lips.

Her legs pressed harder into his shoulders. He could feel the sting of one high heel digging into his skin and felt his cock surge to full hardness.

“Brady.” His name on her lips sent a sizzle of heat down his spine. “That feels so good,” she moaned as he slid one, then two fingers inside. “You make me feel so good.”

Her breathy words made him feel like the fucking king of the world. He slid his fingers in, out, attuned to every shift of her body, every breathy moan. Using everything she gave him to send her higher and higher until she came hard against his mouth, her thighs quivering, every muscle shuddering in pleasure.

She collapsed back against the couch, eyes closed. Her slip had worked its way down, exposing her soft tits with their dark pink nipples tightly pointing up to the ceiling.

She looked ravished, a woman well pleasured.

His woman.

So fucking gorgeous it made his heart ache to look at her. He felt a swell of emotion erupt in his chest, so intense it actually made his heart ache and his eyes burn. He didn’t realize until that moment just how much he’d been holding back in his efforts to keep up the front that he wanted to keep things casual.

Now it all broke free in a wave so intense, so out of his control. Leaving him raw and open and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been since he was a kid, before he figured out the only way to survive was to adopt an attitude that told the rest of the world it could kiss his ass.

It was so unfamiliar, so uncomfortable, he had to fight the urge to pull it all back, shove it back in the box in the corner of his heart where he’d kept it all these months.

Something of his inner conflict must have shown on his face, because Molly reached out and ran her fingers along his arm. “Is something wrong?”

The gentle touch brought him back from the edge of the abyss, chasing away the old insecurities and fears of rejection, of never being anything more to her than a great lay and a good time.

“No,” he said, his mouth relaxing into a smile. “Everything is very, very right.”

He leaned down to kiss her, then gathered her into his arms. Urging her legs around his waist, he carried her down the hallway to her bedroom and laid her across the bed.

He lay down next to her and kissed her like he had all the time in the world. With the edge taken off they could take time to explore with soft, slow kisses and strokes of their hands.

He kissed his way down her chest, over her breasts, his hands trailing slowly behind. He caught the neckline of her slip and dragged it with him as he made his way down her belly and legs, pausing to press a firm kiss to the triangle of damp curls in between.

When he reached her feet he slipped the heels off and tossed them aside. He pressed a kiss to the arch of each foot and urged her over onto her belly, and started his way back up. He sucked and nibbled his way up her calves and the backs of her thighs, sank his teeth gently into the curve of each ass cheek. By now she was sighing and squirming under him, her fingers clenching and unclenching in the bed sheets.

He dipped his hand between her thighs, found her wet slit with his fingers as his lips feathered their way up her spine.

“Brady, I want you, I want you so much,” she moaned, arching her back, lifting her hips to give him better access.

The only thing she could have said that would have thrilled him more was that she loved him, but tonight he’d take what he could get. “I want you too,” he murmured against the curve of her neck and shoulder. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”