Craving Molly (The Aces' Sons 2)

“I’m fine.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Will,” she whispered, crawling on top of me.

The minute her ass hit my thighs, I lost my shit. She was trying to comfort me or something, but all I could feel was the weight of her pussy on my cock.

I was on my feet and dropping her to the couch before she could protest, my hands going straight to the snap of her jeans.

“Will?”

“You sayin’ no?” I asked, jerking the jeans and panties down her thighs.

“I’m not saying no,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

I ripped the jeans off the rest of the way and stared. Ah, shit. She didn’t dye her hair and the freckles that covered her shoulders and cheeks also ran all the way up her thighs.

“Shirt,” I ordered, jerking mine over my head.

“I’ve got stretch marks,” she said nervously, her hands hesitating at the bottom of her sweatshirt.

“I don’t give a fuck.” I grabbed a condom and tossed my wallet to the floor, trying to focus as I shucked off my jeans. “Shirt, Molly.”

I was naked and suited up by the time she finally started pulling the sweatshirt off, but I didn’t have patience for her slow movements. I yanked her off the couch and tore the shirt over her head, my hands automatically going to the clasp of her bra.

“Um,” she murmured nervously as I got my first sight of her tits.

They looked heavy. Thick.

I fell to the couch, pulling her on top of me so I could bury my face between them.

Jesus, she had no angles. Every single piece of her was rounded and soft.

I lifted one of her tits and weighed it in my hand. Yeah. I was going to dream about them for months.

“Will?” she asked as I stuck two fingers in my mouth, getting them nice and wet.

“Gorgeous,” I ground out as my hand slid between us.

“You don’t have to say that.” Her breath hitched as my wet fingers found her clit.

“Gorgeous,” I said again, sliding those same fingers inside her. “Shit, you didn’t need this did you?” I asked, jerking my hand up. “Already wet.”

She groaned and dropped her head to my shoulder.

I pulled out of her and grabbed my cock, pressing it down until the tip was riding right inside her.

“Drop,” I ordered, my hand on her tit falling to her hip.

Her breath was coming out in heavy pants against my neck.

“Drop,” I ordered again, slapping her hip lightly.

Then she did, and I was pretty sure my head was going to explode.

“Oh, fuck!” I ground out as she took me in halfway. “That’s right,” I mumbled, pulling my hand from between us to grip her thigh. “Keep going. You’re so fucking sexy. Keep going, Moll.”

I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t seem to stop the words falling out of my mouth as she rocked, taking a little more in each time.

Her head came away from my neck and her eyes were wet as they met mine.

“You good?” I asked as she pressed down again.

“It feels so good,” she mumbled, her words ending on a feminine grunt.

Jesus. Moans were good, screaming was better, but when a woman grunted like that? It was hotter than anything else. It meant she was working for it.

When her ass finally hit my balls, she let out this high-pitched noise from the back of her throat and I was afraid for a second that I was going to embarrass myself.

“Don’t stop,” I ordered as she froze. “Ride me.”

My hands were sliding all over her. I couldn’t touch enough. I fucking loved it that she was on top—it meant that my hands were free to pinch and pull and grip.

She didn’t lift up the way I expected her to. Instead, she did this hip roll that had me just barely sliding out of her before pressing inside again. It wasn’t what I needed, but by the way her breath hitched, it must have been exactly what she needed.

“Look at you,” I said softly, pulling the ponytail out of her hair so it fell in waves over her back and tits. “Fuckin’ goddess.”

That’s exactly what she looked like. Some sort of fertility goddess, with her little pouch of a belly, heavy tits and round thighs. Hell, I’d been sleeping with the wrong types of women.

I pinched her nipples between my fingertips as she rocked, and when I didn’t get the reaction I wanted, I pressed harder, then harder, until finally, she jerked, tipping her head back as she moaned.

She was perfect.

Her hand came off my shoulder and slid down her belly until it was wedged between us. “I need just a little more,” she gasped, as if in explanation.

“No,” I murmured, shaking my head as I gave her nipples another hard pinch. “You keep your hands on me,” I said, leaning forward to kiss her. “My hands on you.”