Talk Me Down. Victoria Dahl
him in the face. “Look, I know I said all that stuff about Ricky Nowell, and nice girls don’t do that, but he was really horrible to me that night, and I just…” She turned a corkscrew with her left hand.
“Ricky Nowell? I don’t…Wasn’t he your boyfriend in high school?”
“Yes, unfortunately! So don’t go judging me!”
“Molly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong, that’s what I’m talking about! If you’re not gonna like me, fine! Don’t like me. You just sit over there and be cute and disapproving. And sexy. And…I don’t have to—”
When he leaned in and kissed her, she drew a sharp, deep breath and then held it. Ben smiled against her mouth and took advantage of the quiet moment to explore the satin texture of her lips. She was just as soft as he’d fantasized, warm and yielding as he brushed his lips slowly over hers. But she didn’t taste pink; she tasted shimmery yellow.
“Why do you taste like a Jolly Rancher?” he wondered aloud.
“Oh.” She breathed citrus against his tongue. “Three lemon drops and an appletini.”
Then he followed the sweetness into warmth and wet. She opened for him, pressed closer, and Ben forgot about lemons and apples. She let him explore slowly for a moment, gliding against the slickness of her mouth, but then she wanted more and so did he, and she moaned and coaxed him deeper.
His earlier lust exploded through him, dragging him into urgency as quick and wild as the creek in spring. He felt he’d waited forever for this, through countless youthful fantasies when his hormones had nearly driven him mad. Ben grasped her hips and lifted her over all the clutter that kept them separated.
“Oh, my God, did you just pick me up?” She wiggled against him, settling her knees on either side of his legs. “That is so sexy.”
That surprised a laugh out of him, but it turned to a groan as she finally got her skirt hiked high enough that she could settle her ass against his lap. He curled his hands around her thighs, because what else was he supposed to do? And the black fabric was like cashmere, it clearly demanded petting…stroking, even.
“Oh, yes, Ben,” she whispered, pressing small kisses to his jaw. “Your hands are so hot. So hot and, and so…big.”
Jesus, was she talking dirty to him? No one had ever done that before, but he was damn sure he liked it. Ben kissed her hard and stroked up to cup her ass in his palms, and oh, what a perfect fit. All that firm, flexing muscle and, damn it, her mouth tasted like heaven.
Her encouraging noises weren’t hurting anything, either. He pushed higher on her hips, slipping her skirt up until his fingers touched the bare skin waiting for him above her tights. Her skin was even softer than cashmere and scorching hot.
Molly arched back, pressing her sex down, and Ben, determined to oblige, lifted her and scooted down a little in his seat. When she rocked forward, she fit perfectly against the bulge in his jeans.
“Ah,” they said in unison.
“Oh, Ben,” she went on, while he was still trying to reconnect with the speech center of his brain. The hollow between her legs, the plump flesh there…it all seemed perfectly designed to cover him, torture him. Her thighs strained as she shifted herself against him.
“Oh, Ben, you feel so good.”
Hell, yeah, he felt really good. She seemed to have everything under control as she rocked back and forth, so he let go of her hips and reached for the pink sweater instead. As he pushed the hem up, he made a mental note to remember the sight of her in that white lace bra later. Right now he just needed to get rid of it, and Molly seemed in agreement. She shrugged out of her coat, tangled her arms in the sweater and pulled up and then suddenly it was off, her hair falling around bare shoulders.
The delicate bra had a front clasp, thank the sweet Lord for genius inventions. All it took was one little flick of his clumsy fingers and it was falling away. Her breasts were white and small and perfect, begging for attention. He licked one rosy nipple, a slow circle around the hardening bud.
Her sigh filled the truck as she worked her fingers into his hair and rocked her hips faster.
“Ben. Yes. Oh, yes. I’ve wanted this for so long. Ever since that night. I saw you and I wanted to be her. I wanted to be on my knees for you, taking all of you into my mouth.”
Holy shit. He knew his fingers were digging too hard into her waist, but he couldn’t stop them, just as he couldn’t stop his mouth from being too rough. He scraped his teeth over her pebble-hard nipple and Molly keened. When he reached up her back to ease one hand into her hair, to hold her tight to his lips, Molly moaned in eager approval.
He knew she was close to coming, the friction of her rubbing driving even him close to the edge, and Ben’s mind was a writhing mess of conflicting ideas. He wanted to push her further, make her come screaming, and he wanted to lift her up and unzip his jeans and sink deep inside so they could come together. He wanted to gather her up and take her into her house and do this right, on a bed, in private, for hours.
And, Jesus, he wanted her talking to him the whole time.
“Ben,” she panted.
“Yes.”
“Please, I’m…Oh, God.”
He moved to the other breast, licking more softly this time, knowing just what he wanted. And he got it.
Molly began to beg. “Ben, please. Please. I’m so close.”
Her fingers wound tight into his hair, demanding and pleading. He refused to give in until she began sobbing his name over and over. Finally, he sucked hard and pressed her carefully between his teeth.
She drew in a long, rough breath and raised one hand to the ceiling to press her body harder against his cock. All her muscles tensed into long, shaking lines…and then Ben saw stars and she was screaming and the world exploded into color and…and sirens?
Caught at the very edge of an orgasm, Ben looked up and saw one of her clutching hands pressed high, right against the light controls of his truck. Sirens blared, blue and red beams danced and jumped off the front of her house. And the neighbors’ houses.
“Oh, fuck.”
She was still shuddering against him.
“Molly. Molly!” He tried to flick the switches, but her fingers wouldn’t move. “Move your hand, Moll!” She moved the wrong one, letting go of his hair.
Finally, he was able to push her loosening hold away from the box and turn off the light-and-sound show. But it was too late, of course. Porch lights were coming on as far as five houses up the block. He wondered if the loud speaker had been on.
Shit, shit, shit. One more second and this would have ended in a high-school-era orgasm for him, too, and now he had to think his way out of this? Ben snatched up her sweater and tugged it over her head. Her eyes blinked at him above the turtleneck.
“You’d better get dressed, sweetie. We’re about to have company.”
He saw the exact moment that awareness flashed to life in her clouded gaze. Her eyes got bigger, rounder, and then she forced her arms into the sleeves and yanked everything down over her unfastened bra.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Her voice shook. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, Molly. It’s okay. Calm down.”
“No, it’s not!”
Several dark shadows huddled on stoops, stomping their feet and craning their necks. “I don’t think anyone even noticed. Just get your coat on and I’ll walk you to your door.”
“No one noticed?” She started to look around, so Ben gathered up her white coat and handed it to her.
“Here.