His big hands moved to his belt buckle. My mouth was dry as I stared at the skin above his jeans. His stomach was flat, with a narrow strip of hair that disappeared into his pants. I realized there was nothing under the worn-in denim. Callaway was buck naked under there.
He didn’t shove them down, however.
He was too fixated on me to finish undressing. More specifically, he was fixated on my chest. He moaned as his hands closed over my exposed breasts, my nipples rising up to meet the rough, hot flats of his palms.
“Jesus, Molly.”
His voice was raw as he fondled me, not being too rough but not being all that gentle either. Then he bent forward and pulled one of my nipples into his mouth.
Oh, sweet lord in heaven that felt good.
I gasped, my back arching off the table. His hands were busy too. He was stroking my thigh with one hand while his other played with my breast. I moaned as the pressure of his fingers moved to the junction between my legs.
The spot where no one had ever touched me before.
I nearly fell off the table at the feel of it. I’d touched myself there, of course, with varying degrees of success. But this . . . this was a whole other level.
He tore his face away from my breast and stared at me, breathing heavily.
“Molly . . . I have to . . .”
I stared at him as he broke off, gripping my jeans and pulling hard. Cool air hit my sensitive skin, and I realized he’d managed to strip my panties off with my jeans. Just like that, I was naked.
He pulled me up so that I was sitting at the edge of the table and kissed me again. His fingers slid between our bodies and he stroked me again. My worries disappeared with a fresh onslaught of pleasure. I’d never felt lust like this before. I was literally gasping for air.
“I need—”
“It’s alright. I know. I’ll take care of you, Molly.”
His hands moved to undo his belt buckle and I had a moment of clarity. I was about to lose my virginity on a table. With a man I barely knew.
I mean, I felt like I knew him through and through, but did I really?
“Wait.”
He stopped, his hands on his jeans as he paused. His jeans were slung low on his hips. I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling way too dry.
“I’m not ready for this.”
He stared at me, his breathing ragged. I knew this was not what he wanted. But it was too much.
“Please, Mols. Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not.”
“I need you. I need to be inside you.”
“I can’t. This is going too fast.”
“Okay. We don’t have to do that. But let me hold you.”
He closed his eyes and slowly pulled his pants back up.
“If you hold me, then we’re going to end up having the same conversation in five minutes.”
He shook his head.
“No, sweetheart. My pants stay on. Just . . . let me finish you. Please. I need to.”
I bit my lip, feeling ridiculous with my bare ass on the old table. It was green Formica from the 1950s and came with the place, but I sort of doubted anything like this had happened on it before.
Even in seventy years.
I finally nodded, and he smiled just a tiny bit. He gripped my thighs and kissed me deeply before pushing me back down on the table. I was breathing heavily, nervous about what was to come. He kissed his way down my body and knelt quickly on the floor.
“Callaway!”
I tried to sit up, but he shook his head, his palm on my stomach holding me down.
“Let me.”
He kissed me between my legs, and I was off the table, staring at him like he was a crazy person. But he was smiling.
“Somebody has sensitive skin.”
I was naked, standing in the kitchen. I started to cover myself with my hands, and he grabbed me, pulling me close.
“Don’t, baby. Don’t do that.”
He kissed me and I relaxed against him.
“We can go slow. I’ll do it another way. Okay?”
I nodded, practically hyperventilating. He stared into my eyes as his fingers moved over my bare skin. The rough pads slid over my bare belly to my pussy. I whimpered a little as he started to toy with me. He eyes held mine as he teased me softly. His touch was so light, it made me want more. More pressure, more friction. More of him.
He didn’t look away as his fingers started to dance over my clit, circling light and fast on the sensitive nub. He tilted his head to the side, observing me as I started to moan and rock against his hand. He lifted it away, a smug smile on his face as I gasped. Then his hand was back, playing with my folds a bit until he took pity on me and started his rapid thrum again.