“Yes,” she says on a soft moan. “Oh yes…”
I take my time, but give more attention to the sensitive, swollen bud, touching my fingertips to her wet entrance, massaging lightly there, then sliding a finger inside. She clenches around me, and I add another finger as my tongue flicks faster. God, I love this. She’s so responsive, so sweet.
I reach one hand up to cup her breast, her softness filling my palm perfectly, her nipple a hard little nub. Her hips rock up and her abs tighten and I keep lashing at her clit with my tongue, faster, until she’s undulating and crying out, her clit swelling against my tongue.
Jesus, that’s perfect. Beautiful. So fucking hot. I’m so hard I’m hurting, my dick a throbbing spike, but I ignore it as I suck on her clit until she’s drained and limp. I lift my head, my mouth wet with her essence, to study her pulsing pussy, gently rubbing all around it with my fingertips. I’m so turned on I can’t stand it, and I rise to my knees.
Shit. I don’t have a condom.
I lean down to kiss the patch of hair on her mound. “Be right back,” I whisper.
I bolt to the bedroom and roll the rubber on as I walk back. She’s right where I left her, spread open to me, still breathing hard. I kneel again in front of her and slide inside her. She’s so wet it’s easy, and as her heat envelops me, I suck in a sharp breath of relief and bliss.
“Christ, Molly.” I wipe a hand over my mouth, then lean over her to kiss her. Her lips respond, opening to me, clinging to mine as I glide in and out of her. I support myself on one outstretched arm as I fuck her. “You feel amazing. You taste so sweet. I need to fuck this sweet pussy into another orgasm.”
Her body flutters around my dick. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah.” I rock my hips, in, out, again and again, each stroke twisting the hot sensation in my balls higher and higher. “Find it…what do you need, baby?”
She slips her hand down to her clit and comes again after only a few rubs, wailing the most satisfying sound, clenching around me, and I let my orgasm roar over me, exploding at my center, flashing up my spine. My balls squeeze and my cock swells and pulses.
I go still, my hands on her legs, every muscle in my body tense. I’m panting, blind, a mass of jangling nerves. Finally, when my vision clears and the noise in my ears lessens, I move, giving another slow glide in…and out. Gripping my cock, I remove the condom and wrap it in tissues from the box on the table, then I scoop Molly up in my arms and sit on the couch with her on my lap.
She’s naked. Warm. Soft. Curling into me like a kitten, her hand sliding around the nape of my neck as she tucks her head beneath my chin. We sit like that for a while, who knows how long, and then she says, “That was the best trivia game I’ve ever played.”
I blow out a soft laugh. “Yeah. Same.”
Molly
The third weekend we’re there, I’m sitting on the deck with coffee in the morning when a man walks around the corner of the cottage. I nearly spill my coffee I’m so startled.
“Hi!” he says. “How are you?”
“I’m, uh, good.” I stand, only a little embarrassed that I’m wearing a huge pair of Jax’s plaid flannel pants and a hoodie.
“I’m Oliver MacDonald.” He jerks his head. “We have the cottage next door.”
“Oh! Nice to meet you. I’m Molly.”
“Are you…I mean, I heard Jax is here.”
“Yes! He just walked to the store for milk. He should be back any minute.”
“Oh, cool. We kind of grew up together here, when he used to come and spend summers with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.”
“I’ve heard a lot about those summers.” I smile, my chest warming. “Jax loves it here.”
“It’s great that he still comes back. My wife and I live in Toronto now, but we try to come back every summer too, and usually we meet up with Jax.”
I hear the door of the porch open and close and footsteps in the cottage. “Jax,” I call through the screen door. “There’s someone here to see you.”
Jax appears, and a broad grin breaks out over his face. “Big Mac!” He slides open the door, steps out and they do a bro handshake-hug combo. “How the hell are you?”
“Great, man. You?”
“Good! You here for the week?”
“Yeah. The whole family’s here this weekend, but Sophia and I are staying next week, too.”
“Oh hey, this is Molly,” Jax says.
“We met,” Oliver says with a smile. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”
“I…” Jax’s voice trails off.
There’s a brief awkward silence as our eyes meet.
“You’re from Chicago?” Oliver asks me.
“Yes!” I nod vigorously.
“Your first time here, then?” Oliver asks. “How do you like it?”
“I love it. Jax has been touring me around and sharing all his memories with me. Was it you whose bathing suit he shoved a minnow into?”
Oliver barks out a laugh. “Yeah, that was me! Asshole. Anyway, come over tonight for a drink and say hi to Mom and Dad. Abby’s here too. My sister,” he adds for my benefit.
“We just may do that.” Jax follows Oliver around the cottage, and I can hear their voices before Oliver hikes through the bushes separating the two cottages.
Jax reappears, still smiling.
“Well, that was awkward,” I say.
He grimaces. “Whatever. Just go along with it. It’s easier than explaining everything.”
“I guess so.” Unless Oliver keeps up on hockey gossip and knows that I’m the one who jilted Steve Shevchuk at the altar.
We do go next door later, carrying our drinks with us. Jax pauses outside our cottage door. “Um…Oliver’s sister Abby is going to be there.”
I blink. “And…?”
“She always had a little crush on me. Maybe you could stick close?”
I purse my lips. “Oh, come on. That was how many years ago? You think you’re such a stud she’s still going to be after you?”
He shrugs. “It could happen.”
I laugh. “Sure, big guy.” I pat his back as he starts through the bushes toward the next door cottage.
Everyone is out on the deck, and Jax is greeted like a long-lost son by Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald. I watch Oliver’s sister Abby greet Jax with a clinging hug that’s not at all sisterly, and she regards me with chilly eyes as Jax introduces us.
Dammit, he was right.
Okay, I can do this. I slide my arm into his and press my body against him, eliciting raised eyebrows from Abby. Ha. I’ll sit in Jax’s lap all night if I have to.
Abby ignores me and asks questions about Riley and how she’s doing, and Jax is happy to brag about his little sister. Oliver’s wife Sophia is pregnant, six months I learn as we chat. I hear a lot of reminiscences, including a hilarious story about Jax and Oliver capturing crayfish in the lake and putting them on the counter under a plate for Mrs. MacDonald to find.
“I damn near peed myself,” she says, laughing. “They looked like giant bugs. I ran out of the kitchen screaming and the boys were howling.”
“I nearly died too,” Abby says. “I came in asking what the heck is going on, and I saw those things crawling across the counter. Oh my God!”
I laugh and smile lovingly up into Jax’s eyes. “Troublemaker.”
He smiles back down at me. “Good times.”
“Are you still a prankster in the dressing room?” Oliver asks.
“I like a good practical joke on occasion,” Jax says.
“Like the time you hit Marc Dupuis with a faceful of shaving cream while he was being interviewed on TV?” I ask.
Oliver laughs. “I saw that!”
“Captain Codger?” Mrs. MacDonald asks with amusement. “How did he take it?”
“He’s not as serious as he used to be,” Jax says.
“Jax always did like to have fun,” Mrs. MacDonald tells me. “And the girls followed him everywhere.”
“I do
n’t doubt it,” I say with a smirk.
I love how easily Jax fits in with these people and the fact that he’s kept in touch with a friend from his childhood. I’m not loving Abby’s aloof attitude toward me, but whatever.
We go out for dinner with Oliver and Sophia one night the next week, which is fun. They’re a nice couple. They’re excited about their first child, and Jax seems super happy for them, too, asking questions about how Sophia is feeling and how much time she’ll have off work. Apparently, she and Oliver are both accountants. When she says she’ll have a year off, I nearly fall off my chair.
“That’s amazing,” I say. I haven’t looked into maternity leave in detail, but I have friends and coworkers who have babies and they sure didn’t get a year off. We discuss mat leave in Canada compared to the United States.
That morphs into a discussion about politics, which could be a field of landmines, but luckily Jax and I have similar views to Oliver and Sophia, so it’s an amicable discussion. It’s fun talking about these things with likeminded people and also getting to know Jax’s opinions. We’ve never talked about this stuff, and my admiration for him grows.
I’ve always liked him. But now…I really like him.
Jax
Molly’s preparing dinner tonight. I can hear her moving around in the kitchen. My ears perk up at a muttered “fuck” and then “goddammit.” I consider going in there to see what’s happening, but hold off. I’m sure she’s got this. I grilled chicken breasts earlier that she’s going to use in some kind of salad.
I’m reading an advance copy of my mom’s new book she sent me. It’s fantastic, but I grew up with a lot of her ideas about how to stay humble as an elite athlete.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
My eyebrows fly up at another expletive from the kitchen. Then I hear a loud thunk and a crash.
I jump up. Okay, now I need to check in.
I stride into the kitchen and find a disaster—an avocado has been thrown against the wall and a salad bowl sits upside down on the floor with greens scattered all around it. And Molly’s in tears.
“What’s going on?” I approach her. “What happened?”
“I had three avocadoes,” she sobs. “They were rotten when I cut them open. All of them.”
“Ah…” She’s crying about overripe avocadoes? “That’s okay. We’ll have the salad without them.”
“You can’t have a Cobb salad without avocado!” She sweeps a hand out. “And then I was so frustrated I threw an avocado and I knocked the salad bowl on the floor.” Another sob bursts from her lips and she swipes at the tears on her cheeks. “Now we have no dinner and a big mess to clean up and dinner is ruined.” She cries harder.
I take her in my arms and press her head to my shoulder, rocking her slightly, a little mystified. “Shhhh. It’s okay. It’s not that bad.”
“It is,” she moans against my shirt. “It’s a disaster. I just wanted to make a nice dinner.”
“We have other food.” I pat her back. “Or we can go out.”
“I can’t go out! I’m a mess.”
“I can go get us something.”
She nods and sniffles, not lifting her head. Okay, good. Maybe that calmed her down. What the hell?
“What would you like?” I ask.
After a short pause, she mumbles, “I could really go for a bacon double cheeseburger and fries. Large fries. And ice cream.”
“Okay. We can do that. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and you go sit on the deck and I’ll clean this up.”
“You’re so good,” she sobs, stepping back. Her face is red and blotchy, her nose pink, eyes swollen. She’s still gorgeous. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I hand her the glass of wine. When she’s outside, I survey the mess. Wow.
There’s bacon, which looks delicious. That salad would have been epic. Oh well. I put some things in the fridge, throw out the greens, and clean the floor. Then I grab my keys and step out onto the deck. “I’ll go get the food now. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” She heaves a sigh. “Thank you, Jax.”
“Sure.”
I drive to the Wigwam and place my to-go order. While I’m waiting, I order a beer in the lounge and watch the baseball game on the big TV. Some guys there recognize me and start talking to me, which is cool. They even pay for my beer.
Then I carry the big bag of food out to the car and head back to the cottage. Molly’s still on the deck. Her tears have dried and her face looks less red. She gives me a wan smile as she joins me in the kitchen to unpack the food. I slide the ice cream into the freezer for later.
“I’m really sorry about my meltdown,” she says when we’re sitting at the table. “I, uh, have PMS.”
I blink. “Ah.” That explains it. I remember when Riley had her period—nobody could even look at her, never mind talk to her. Luckily, Mom explained it to me. “Do you need anything else? Midol? Tampons?”
She smiles. “I’m good. Actually, what I need is someone to rub my back and play with my hair while I watch The Notebook and eat ice cream.”
“I can do that. We even have a DVD of The Notebook.”
“It’s probably not your favorite movie.”
I grin. “No. But we watched my favorite the other night, so it’s fair.”
“You’re the best.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I just feel so yuck. I’m bloated and crampy and my boobs hurt.”
I nod. This is a lot of info. But I can handle it.
“On the upside,” she adds with a grin, “at least I’m not pregnant.”
Holy shit. That would be a huge complication. “Good point.” I give my head a shake. “Have you always had bad PMS?”
“Yes. When I was in ninth grade, I got frustrated because we were having a discussion about something, I can’t even remember what, it was a history class, and people were asking such stupid questions, I put up my hand and asked if I could murder someone.”
I laugh.
After she devours her entire burger and fries, we move into the living room. I start the movie and when she’s done her ice cream, she lies on the couch with her head in my lap and it’s no trouble at all to stroke her hair and back while we watch. And yeah, she cries.
After the movie, she rolls onto her back and looks up at me. “That’s such a great love story. But so sad.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so horny,” she adds.
My eyes widen.
“But I’m so gross.”
I smile and stroke her hair again. “You’re not gross.”
“It’s shark week. You’re probably not into that.”
“We can do other things.”
“Oh yeah?” She bites her lip adorably.
My hand moves down to her lower abdomen. I gently press and rub here there.
“That feels good,” she says with a sigh.
I move lower, over her shorts, to cup her pussy. Slowly I move my hand back and forth.
“Ohhhh.” Her eyes close.
“Is this okay?”
“Yessss…”
I slip my fingers into her shorts and panties. She’s wet, and I slick up the lubrication and circle my fingertip over her clit. She adjusts my hand at one point, sighs with delight, and I fucking love watching her come on my fingers, her body trembling, her hand gripping my wrist.
A smile curves her lips and her eyes flutter open. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I cup her pussy gently, then withdraw my hand.
She lays her hand on her lower belly. “My cramps feel better. I think orgasms are supposed to be good for cramps.”
“You should have told me sooner.” I lean down to smooch her mouth. “We could have dealt with that before you threw an avocado across the kitchen.”
Luckily she smiles at that, then shimmies off the couch. “Okay, your turn.”
I smile too, letting her unzip my shorts and pull my stiff cock out. She looks so eager and enthralled; it’s a huge tu
rn-on. And her mouth is amazing—soft and wet, her tongue agile and slick. My entire body buzzes with arousal.
She takes me deep and sucks on me. Pressure gathers in my full balls, my lower back aching, my thighs tensing. I slide my fingers into her hair, holding it off her face so I can watch, because, fuck, it’s sexy as hell seeing her lips on my cock, her eyes peering up at me. “You really are fantastic at this,” I mutter.
She lifts up and off. My dick pulses in protest. “Really?”
“Really. Please…don’t stop.”
She smiles and resumes her amazing blow job, her tongue smooth and supple, licking over the head of my cock, around me, all the way down to the base and back up, then her tight lips sliding up and down in tandem with her fist. My consciousness narrows to that tiny slice of reality, her on her knees in front of me, her mouth on my cock. My skin prickles, tension building inside me, then torquing as sensation explodes through my nerves in a blinding surge of ecstasy.
My chest heaves as I try to gather air into my lungs. I cup her face with both hands when she lifts off me. I can’t breathe, can barely see, but my gaze focuses on the sexy satisfied smile on her lips, and it’s all I need in this world because hell yeah, I love blow jobs, but I also love that she loves it and that she knows she blew my fucking mind.
19
Molly
“We’ve been here four weeks,” I say to Jax as we finish the hamburgers that Jax grilled on the barbecue.
“Yeah.” He eyes me.
“I should probably go back to Chicago.” I sigh because I really don’t want to. I’ve been keeping in touch with my friends and family. And I know that after he got back from Europe, Steve went home to visit his parents in upstate New York, so there was no need to rush back to see him. There’s no reason I need to be there, but I feel like I shouldn’t spend the whole summer hiding out with Jax. I guess I need to face reality.
“I can drive you back to Winnipeg if you want, so you can fly home.”
Game Changer Page 17
