Page 70 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

Darling. I’d let that slip, but she didn’t seem to notice. With her knees bracketing my hips, she fisted my cock again, dragging it through her slit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Hmm.” Her head lulled to the side as she took my tip and rolled it against her clit. The shudder that ran through her body shook the bed. She did it again, using my cock to work herself up.

As much as I wanted to watch her get herself off on me, I was losing control. Her scent surrounded me. The heady smell of sex was in the air, and I needed her pussy. I sat up straight, taking her hips in my grip. Her eyes popped open, dark and dizzy. Drunk.

With one thrust of my hips, I filled her.

“Oh, fuck.” I fell backward, letting her tight heat squeeze me as she cried out my name.

I held her in place, her entire body tense as she waited to adjust around my size. When she was ready, she opened her eyes.

“Good?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Amazing.”

My deep chuckle filled the room, then she dropped her hands to my shoulders and moved.

I held on to her hips with a light grip, ready to help if she got tired, but she was in control. She set the pace. And she rode me until we were both glistening and breathless.

Every muscle in my body was strained—my balls were tight, ready to empty into Molly’s luscious body. But as she closed her eyes, a furrow between her eyebrows, I knew there was something going on in her head. Something was keeping her from letting go.

With one hand, I latched on to a nipple. With the other, I strummed her clit with the pad of my thumb.

Her eyes shot open. They locked on mine.

“Finn,” she whimpered.

“Come. Come with me.”

That was all it took. A gravelly order and

she exploded, her head falling back, that gorgeous hair spilling from its loose tie. It cascaded down her back, rubbing against my thighs.

And as she clenched around me, pulse after pulse, I stopped fighting my own release. I poured myself into her, shooting long and hard until I was wrecked and limp.

Molly fell on top of me, that hair draping around us like a blanket. My hands wound into the spirals, each finger claiming a few strands of its own to twirl.

Where did we go wrong?

The question rushed into my mind, taking the spotlight away from anything else. Where had we gone wrong? How could we be this good and lose it all? How could we throw this away?

The fights. The missed dinners. The nights we went to bed, our backs turned on one another.

The other man.

Just the thought of her with another man made me queasy. I rolled her to the side, sliding out to sit and swing my legs over the bed.

“Is everything okay?”

I glanced over my shoulder, Molly’s flushed face and tousled hair a sight I’d once thought was mine and mine alone. She’d shared that with one other man. Were there more? My stomach rolled again.

“Finn?”

I blinked out of my stupor. “I’ll get a washcloth. Hang tight.”

She fell into the pillows as I stood and walked to the bathroom on shaking legs.