Molly had never dreamed something like that would come out of Peyton’s mouth, and everything between her legs went wet. It had been a long, long time since she’d been that turned on – maybe never. She scooted up into the bed; Peyton followed on his hands and knees with a look and cadence like a tiger stalking his prey. When she made it up to the pillows, she hooked her fingers in her panties and pulled them off like a pro. Peyton growled. “Spread ’em, beautiful.”
All of a sudden, she felt shy and embarrassed as she pulled her feet up toward her ass, then let her bent knees fall to the sides. She was open, wide open, her folds glistening with the juices that were running freely from her sex. Peyton fell down onto his elbows and stared, his face inches from her arousal. Then she heard him groan out the magic words: “God, baby, you’re so beautiful and so damn wet.”
Molly didn’t know whether to smile or cry. No man had ever told her that. She’d always thought genitals were ugly and dirty, and Freddie had certainly never looked at her that way. He’d always kept the covers pulled up and worked under them. She thought for a second, and realized she wasn’t sure she’d ever really seen his genitals in all the years they’d been married. He’d just poked around down there in the dark until he hit the spot, then the two-pump chump finished and left her wanting. Even when she’d sucked him, he’d kept the covers over her, and she never really saw his cock or what she was doing, just felt her way around, and he hated it when she so much as accidentally brushed his balls. She wanted to see what Peyton looked like. It was exciting, after being married to a man all those years who was so closed off, to finally be with someone different.
She swallowed hard and whispered, “Peyton? Can you take off your briefs? I want to see you too.”
He wouldn’t make her wait. Peyton rose up on his knees and worked his briefs down to his knees – he’d take them the rest of the way off in just a few minutes, but if she wanted to see his cock, he wanted her to see it too.
And it was impressive. Molly took a good, long look. It was just like the rest of him, not especially long, but thick. Before he had a chance to even ask what she thought, she was up on her hands and knees and facing its beautiful purple knob, licking her lips and wondering if she should ask or just go for it. To answer her unspoken question, Peyton whispered, “I want your lips on me, but not now. I want the first time I’m inside you to be filling your womanhood, not your mouth.” He stopped. “Molly, I don’t do this. I don’t just go home with a woman and fuck her. I’m not interested in one night stands or screwing around for fun. If you don’t want a relationship, you need to let me know now. We can still do this, but you need to know that for me it’s a building block, not just a fun kind of thing. I don’t want us to be awkward around each other when we’re around everyone else. Tell me: What do you want?”
“I want you.” Her voice was strong and clear. “I want you right now, and I want you tomorrow too. I want to get to know you and find out if we can have something that will last. I need a man who’s strong and knows what he wants, someone who’ll take charge, and I think you can. And I’ll let you, I will, I swear. Is that what you want? A relationship like that?”
Peyton felt ten feet tall. This was a woman whose needs he could meet. He could definitely build something with her. He dropped to the mattress beside her and drew her to him, then kissed her, a deep kiss full of longing and need. The feel of her nipples pressed against his chest made him ache for her softness and warmth, and she responded by running her fingers through his hair, her nails gently scratching his scalp and making his spine tingle.
As he kissed her, Peyton’s hands started to drift over her body, and everywhere he touched felt alive to her, like her skin was waking from a coma. Molly burned deep inside, a painful need, the muscles in her pussy clenching and releasing, longing for something to fill them. She wanted him to touch her, and when he tweaked and rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she groaned loudly. His mouth replaced his fingers so his hand could continue to wander, and when it made its way to her folds, his fingers dipped into her cunt, leaving him marveling at how wet and hot she was for him. When he pumped two fingers into her, she cried out over and over, her hips thrusting to meet his hand, wanting more, needing more.
Leaving her softness, his hand trailed up her slit until his finger found her clit, hard and waiting, and he began to stroke it gently, so gently that she could barely feel his touch. As it grew harder, his stroking became more insistent, and Molly had trouble hanging on. She needed to come, and the clawing sensation building behind her swollen bud made her rising arousal almost unbearable. She worked at holding off, at making it last, but Peyton whispered, his breath warm in her ear, “Come for me, baby. I want you to lose control.”
That was all the encouragement she needed. She shuddered and her hips began to thrust, each flex of her pelvis in time with a stroke of his finger. When she cried out, “No more!” Peyton rose above her and slid into her with one purposeful, powerful stroke.
The stretch was almost unbearable. Like all of the Walters men, Freddie had been well endowed, but this was different. Peyton’s girth stretched her sheath almost to bursting, and she shrieked out, “Oh my god! It just hurts so damn good.” As her hips rose over and over to meet his thrusts, Peyton dropped his face to her neck and nipped her lightly over and over.
He couldn’t believe it; he couldn’t believe her. What in the world had Freddie Walters wanted with a sixteen-year-old when he had this at home? She was incredible, warm and tight and wet, and every touch from his hand set her in motion until he was so hard that he thought he’d die. As he pumped into her, he thought about all of the months and years he’d been alone, and how this woman just might be the one he’d been waiting for. She wanted him. She needed him. And he needed her too.
Sooner than he would’ve liked, Peyton moaned, “Oh, angel, I can’t hold back. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Please, Peyton, come inside me. Please?”
Peyton fell onto Molly, ran his hands around to grip her ass, and hunched her like a wild animal. As his speed increased, so did the friction, and within seconds Molly was crazed and begging, “God, Peyton, please, please, fuck me, oh god, fuck me, oh god, fuuuuuck me, baby.” He shuddered and slammed into her three more times, filling the condom and as he poured himself into her, his heart hammering in his chest. Just as he finished stroking, he felt her contract around him and she soared into her own climax as he held onto his hardness to help her finish.
He lay on top of her, panting, and her arms wrapped around his neck. “God, baby, that was soooooo good,” she whispered, then kissed his lips lightly, and he squeezed her waist and kissed her back, not as hard as before, but a firm, solid kiss that let her know he didn’t want it to be over.
“It was. It was so fucking good, princess. Oh my god, I want to do that again!” he chuckled, and she laughed too.
“We can. We can do whatever we want,” she told him, looking into his eyes. “I want more. Stay? Sleep here? Wake up with me tomorrow morning?”
He smiled down at her. “There’s nothing I’d like more in this whole wide world.
I hope you enjoyed these excerpts from the remaining novels in the Love Under Construction series. Check your favorite online retailer for the format that works with your electronic device.
Connect with Deanndra on Substance B
Substance B is a new platform for independent authors to directly connect with their readers. Please visit Deanndra’s Substance B page where you can:
• Sign up for Deanndra’s newsletter
• Send a message to Deanndra
• See all platforms where Deanndra’s books are sold
• Request autographed eBooks from Deanndra
Visit Substance B today to learn more about your favorite independent authors.
<
br />