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 turn-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