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“You like this?” I tease my fingers over my nipples.
He flattens his tongue against me and groans with approval. As if he can’t take his mouth off me for even a second.
I arch my hips, pressing myself against his face. He nods and makes more encouraging noises, each one vibrating against me, pushing me closer.
He switches to flicking the tip of his tongue against that same, sensitive spot. I moan and try to spread my legs wider, arch my hips higher.
“I’m…oh…” I squeeze my eyes shut, concentrating on the sensations.
Griff slides two fingers inside me, curling and stroking in time with his tongue. It’s the last push I need to go over the edge. I let out a wild scream and keep chanting nonsense sounds over and over. He keeps working his mouth against me, drawing out the throbbing pleasure for an eternity.
When I can finally breathe again, I lower my hips to the mattress. “Oh my God,” I whisper, covering my face with my hands. “That was so…oh my God.”
He grins, pleased with himself, and keeps his palm between my legs, gently petting, like he’s keeping me warmed up and ready.
“Griff, I still need you inside me.” My want for him is staggering.
“Give me one of the condoms.” He jerks his chin toward the nightstand and wraps his free hand around his long, thick cock, and strokes.
I twist and reach, finally capturing one of the gold foil squares between two fingers. I hold it out to him and he reluctantly takes his hand off me to grab the condom.
He carefully tears it open and I watch, fascinated as he rolls it down his length. “Surprised it fits,” I whisper.
He ducks his head and laughs.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” He stretches his big body over mine, resting his arm next to my head, bracing himself to keep most of his weight off of me.
Suddenly, I’m struck with the need to make a confession. “Griff, I need you to know something,” I say in a rush. “I didn’t?—”
“Don’t.” He closes his eyes briefly. “Say his name.”
“But I want you to know, I didn’t?—”
“I know.” His low, insistent tone resonates with certainty.
“What?” Why does he sound so confident when he hasn’t heard what I’m trying to say? “Griff, please. I need to tell you this.”
“Molly, you don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Yes, I do.” I take a breath. “I didn’t sleep with Torch…or anyone else.”
He dips lower, brushing his lips against my ear. “I know you didn’t.”
Why does he sound so sure? “How?”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “I know you.” His lips curve into a wicked smirk. “And you should know me a whole lot better by now.”
“Oh, no,” I groan, fearing what’s coming.
“That’s right, Muffin. If I thought he’d touched anything more than your hand, I would’ve beaten him into a pile of mush.”
My nose wrinkles. “That’s not very nice.”
“Never said I was a nice person.”
I press my palm to his cheek. “You’re nice to me.”
