as she pants slightly, and it hits me in the chest again just how fucking perfect she is. She wasn’t lying when she tore Blaise and me down on the first day back, she is a broken little Mounty, but she’s so much more than the shit from her past. I don’t need to know all of the details to know that she’s fucking it for me. She’s everything I want and now I have her, I’m not going to fuck this shit up.
I cup her face in my hands, gently because she’s fucking tiny in my arms, and when her breath hitches a little in her throat, I pull her back into my lips.
She kisses me like she’s with me in this worship and, fuck, I’m done for. This is it. This is the only girl I’m ever going to fucking want.
Fuck. I can smell how badly she wants me back—she’s fucking drenched, dripping down her panties and onto my cock. I want her so fucking bad; I’m at the point of begging. I’ve never begged for a goddamn thing in my life, never lowered myself like that and yet this girl has taken me to my knees.
Her hips start to move, grinding down onto me, and I have to break away from her lips to catch my breath before I finish too fucking fast. It feels too good, too much and not nearly enough all at once, and I try to distract myself by kissing and sucking at the skin just below her ear but that just makes her hips rock even more, every grunt and moan that I gasp out like fuel to her fire.
Her hands thread into my hair and she tugs a little, pulling and moaning until I feel lightheaded.
Fuck.
How much did we have to drink?
I don’t want to forget any of this and, fuck, if she tries to play this off later as being just a drunk hookup, I’ll fucking break something. Fuck, I’ll call her out on it too because I’ve never had a girl fucking drip for me like this before and there’s no way she can say she doesn’t really want me.
She fucking can’t.
“Fuck,” I mumble as I drag my lips away from her shoulder. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this. You’ve had too much to drink.”
Her freakout is immediate and so fucking obvious that I react to it instantly, for once doing the right thing around her and not royally fucking this up, so when she pulls away from me sharply, snatching her arms back from where they’re pressed into my chest, I keep my hands circling her waist as I pull my knees up to push her back into my chest where she belongs. I reach out to gently stroke the hair away from her face.
My voice is nothing more than a rasp. “Don’t freak out. I’m just saying I don’t think we should be doing anything more than making out when we’ve finished a bottle of whiskey between us.”
She blows out a breath and I know I’m doing the right thing, even if I feel like I’m going to fucking die, when her eyes slide around a little like she can’t focus on shit.
“You’re right. We should stop.”
Right.
That’s what I need her to say, but hearing it doesn’t exactly feel great.
One last kiss won’t hurt.
Except, the moment our lips touch again, her hips move and I can’t keep holding myself back like this. It’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but I pull away.
“Nope. No. We’ll stop. If you can’t kiss me without grinding on my dick like that, we have to stop,” I ramble on and she groans at me as she slides away, collapsing on the bed. Fuck. Her tits look like they’re going to spill out of her bra and I didn’t even get the chance to taste them.
Fuck.
She pouts up at me but her eyes are already fluttering shut. “You’re the one that stripped off.”
I scoff at her as I slide out of the bed to get some space before I change my mind, mumbling under my breath, “I had to get your attention somehow.”
I rummage around until I find a blanket to pull over her, smirking at the little frown on her face because I stupidly think that she’s just as fucking gutted about stopping as I am.
In the morning we’ll be sober.
In the morning we can finish what we’ve started.
I’m telling myself that right until I move to tuck