Wild about Weston (The English Brothers Book 5) (13 page)

When she opened her eyes, Weston stared at her, his eyes dark blue, his lips glistening from their kisses, his chest heaving. He didn’t say anything as his hand released her breast, sliding to her shoulder where he fingered the black strap of her dress before covering it with his palm and dragging both down her arm until half of her chest and one breast was bared to him.

She gasped, feeling the already-hard nipple pebble, fully erect, a tiny spot of bright pink skin that silently begged for his kiss, his hot, wet tongue, and the sensation of lips sucking greedily. She longed for the rush of wet she’d feel between her legs, waiting, waiting, waiting, behind a weak dam ready to break.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” he asked, his voice gravelly and breathless.

Molly nodded. “I’m sure.”

His eyes flashed and his lips tilted up just for a moment, as she imagined they would if they were side by side at the bottom of a rollercoaster about to start its slow ascent to the first drop. She threaded her fingers through his hair and deliberately guided his mouth to her breast.

His tongue made a lazy rotation around the stiff nub of flesh as Molly whimpered greedily, bowing her back to get closer to him. As his lips closed around the sensitive skin, she bucked against him, the dam finally giving way as her panties flooded with wet. He licked and sucked on her tender flesh, finally kissing the very tip of her breast before baring the other and loving her all over again.

Molly’s eyes rolled back in her head as his thumb played with her nipple, flicking and rubbing the damp, turgid flesh as his lips and tongue worked relentlessly on its twin.

Her whimpers became louder, small, staccato sounds bonding together into a breathless cry, the heat in her core rising, her hidden muscles bunching tighter and tighter until—

“Weston!” she cried as he brought her to climax. She bucked against him, shuddering and shaking as her insides flexed and relaxed, her bottom lip held tightly between her teeth and her eyes clenched as sharp waves of pleasure peeked then gentled, leaving her limp and loose.

She opened her eyes to find him leaning over her again, and her body, starving for more, pressed up against his. Her fingers moved swiftly to his shirt, and she smoothed her hands over his chest before fingering the buttons, nimbly unfastening them.

“Unzip,” she panted, frustrated that she couldn’t help him with his shirt and pants at once.

His eyes widened as he moved his hands to his waist, unbuttoning and unzipping as Molly pushed him to his back and straddled his waist, her dress bunched around her hips, her breasts and belly exposed to him.

She ran her hands over the curves of his chest, over his white T-shirt, stopping at the hem to push it up and bare his chest. Her palms skimmed the naked skin and she dropped her gaze from his eyes to watch her hands trail over the ridges and contours of muscles, the smooth definition, the light smattering of coiled blond hairs tickling as she explored him. He reached behind his neck and pulled the shirt off, jackknifing his body into a sitting position with Molly still straddling his lap.

She gasped to feel the heat of his chest suddenly pressed intimately into hers. Winding her hands around his neck, her lips slammed into his, teeth clashing, tongues colliding, his fingers curling into the skin of her back as she crushed her breasts against him. His rigid erection pushed against her panties through his pants, and her impatience roared to life. She wanted to feel him—all of him—moving on top of her, moving inside of her.

Pressing kisses against his cheek, she burnt a path to his ear, grabbing the lobe of pillowed skin between her teeth and loving his low, guttural groan of pain or pleasure. She panted into his ear, her breath making him shudder against her, making goose bumps rise on his neck under her fingers, as though every part of him was rising and hardening in response to her. She loved it. It made her bold. It made her want more.

She unclasped her hands, sliding them over his shoulders and pushing against his chest to urge him down on the straw. He threw an arm over his eyes like he knew what was coming, and Molly shimmied down his legs, letting her breasts drag over his chest as her lips followed. Kissing his throat and his pecs, his six pronounced abdominal muscles, back and forth, back and forth, to the V of muscle that pointed to her destination.

Slipping her fingers into the waistband of his unzipped pants and boxers beneath, he pushed his pelvis up for a moment so she could tug both down and free him. Rock hard and pointed straight up, Molly reached out to grasp his sex, marveling at the way it felt like velvet-covered steel, veined like a painting, pulsing with life.

***

“Jesus, Molly. Please….”

His body was on fire, and he was starting to wonder how long he’d be able to hold out if she kept doing what she was doing. It felt so good—so incredible—the way her tongue stroked up and down the length of his erection, but he didn’t want to come in her mouth; he wanted them to come together.

“Ahhh,” he groaned, a raspy, surprised sound, as she took the head of his cock between her lips, letting her tongue circle the tip as his tongue had circled her nipple. She tongued his length, the contact exhilarating and teasing at once, and then—
Oh God!
—she worked her lips around him until the tip of his cock bumped the back of her throat. Surrounded by slippery, saturated heat, a gathering tightness built in his core, swirling with demands for more, even as his brain warned him to stay in control. He plunged his hands into her hair, letting the silken strands fall through his fingers as she sucked and licked him, pushing him closer and closer to a point of no return.

“Molly…” he gasped suddenly, reaching under her shoulders. “Come here.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “You don’t want—”

“I do want,” he panted. “Together.”

He sat up, running his hands down to her hips, pushing at the fabric of her dress, her discarded bra, her panties beneath. She knelt on the hay beside him and let him bare her body, holding his eyes as her breasts heaved up and down with the force of her breathing. She stood, letting her dress and panties pool around her feet, looking down in surprise at her boots.

Her eyes were dancing and merry as she looked back at his face.

“What do you think?” she asked, striking a pose, completely naked except for his mother’s scuffed, muddy, knee-high, bright red, rubber boots.

He threw an arm under his head and lay back against the hay staring up at her, his erection rock-hard and heavy on his belly, his body tight, taut and expectant, his pants bunched around his knees.

“I’ve never seen anything so sexy,” he answered honestly, grinning back at her.

Damn it, but she made life
fun
. She was sexy as hell, and her eyes twinkled with mischief. He stared at her, growing impossibly harder as his eyes glided from her breasts to her trim waist, to the soft white skin of her belly, to the trim triangle of red curls at the apex of her thighs and her long legs, the entire package dusted with freckles, like angel kisses. He wouldn’t have guessed a somewhat-sheltered farmer’s daughter would be so comfortable in her own skin, so bold and fearless, striking a pose in a barn while wearing nothing but his mother’s old boots. It was so surprising and charming, he felt the slippery slope beneath his feelings for her giving way, marking another moment when he actually
felt
himself falling for her.

Her eyes were dark with desire as he trailed back up her body to find them. She kicked off the boots, and then leaned down to pull off his boots and pants. He lay naked beneath her, looking up and wondering, breathlessly, what was coming next.

Holding his pants in her hand, she stared at his erection for a long moment before licking her lips and cocking her head to the side. “Do you have…?”

“Back left pocket,” he answered, and he watched her reach in and pull out his wallet. “Right side.”

“Under the Platinum card?” she teased, opening his wallet.

Plucking the foil wrapper from the folds, she tossed his pants and wallet to the side, parting her legs so that her bare feet flanked his thighs. He forgot how to breathe, holding his breath as Molly stood over him in her naked glory, holding a condom between two fingers like an offering.

Her lips tilted up in a smile, but her body was flushed and her breathing was shallow. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Come here,” he whispered on a long exhale, sitting up against the bale of hay and holding his hands out to her.

She laced her fingers through them and dropped to her knees on either side of him, resting her pert ass on his thighs. Weston leaned forward to claim her lips, kissing her slowly, longingly, as she untangled their hands and ripped open the condom. As they kissed, she rolled it over his cock then scooted forward so it was pressed against her belly and her breasts rubbed against his chest.

“This has to be a dream,” he murmured, pulling away from her, sliding his hands up her back to cup her neck.

“It’s not.” She was breathing heavily, the hard tips of her nipples razing his skin with each breath. “Remember when you said you were falling for me?”

“I meant it,” he said, suddenly reminded of his talk with Kate on the dance floor. “This? Right now? Between us? It’s not casual to me, Molly. I don’t know where we’ll go from here, but I feel like we’re at the beginning of something good.”

“Me too,” she whispered, leaning up on her knees, and reaching down to position his cock at the entrance to her sex. “And I’m falling for you.”

With her arms draped loosely around his neck, she held his eyes as she lowered herself slowly, taking his hard thickness, inch by inch, into the tight, wet glove of her body. Swallowing loudly and breathing raggedly, he reached for her hips, careful not to dig his fingers into her soft, warm flesh. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, pushing against him as she rocked forward, and he gasped as felt himself slip into her to the hilt. With her knees as leverage, she rocked up and then back down again, the walls of her sex clasping his pulsing flesh, massaging it, the gentle, wet friction making him swell inside of her.

“God, Molly. You’re…You feel so…”

“Good,” she moaned, closing her eyes and leaning back.

He tightened his arms around her and dipped his head to take one of her nipples between his lips as she moved slowly up and down again. She moaned softly and Weston released her breast to lean forward, holding her back with one arm and cradling her head with the other.

“I feel like I’m vibrating,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering. And he felt it, too—the flexing and tightening of her muscles around him. Her fingers tensed around his neck, her nails pressing into his skin. “Come with me, Weston.”

“I will,” he groaned.

He thrust into her again and again, faster now, the pressure building and swirling between his legs, in his stomach, radiating out to his fingertips and toe tips and the very tips of his hair.

“Molly,” he panted, his heart pounding as he neared climax, “look at me.”

Her eyes opened, drugged and heavy, like a liquid element composed of pure, undiluted lust. She was so beautiful lying beneath him, her body intimately joined with his, trusting and pliant and tender.

“This is just the beginning,” he promised her.

Her lips parted and her eyes widened as his mouth dropped to hers and he felt her let go. He swallowed her cries as the walls of her sex convulsed rhythmically around him, sucking, pulling, squeezing, insisting that he join her. His entire body tensed into a tight coil, every muscle taut, his corded arms almost shaking on either side of her head and then…and then…he threw his head back and cried out her name as he exploded into a blinding climax, surges of pleasure making fireworks burst behind his eyes, and a savage, unstoppable tenderness unfurl in his heart.

Noticing a thick, wool blanket draped over the stall divider above them, Weston tugged it down and covered them with its warm, scratchy goodness. His hand was soothing in her hair and on her back, sliding up and down her sweat-slickened skin with long, gentle strokes, and Molly snuggled closer to him, her cheek covering his thumping heart and her arm thrown possessively across his chest.

Molly’s breathing was slowly returning to normal, but her heart still raced with the magnitude of what they’d just done. Of course Molly had had sex with Dusty, but that was after years of courtship. Molly had been raised a “good girl” by conscientious, church-going parents, and good girls did not generally have hot sex in a barn with men they’d only met a few hours before.

Checking in with her conscience, however, Molly was surprised—but gratified—to discover that she didn’t feel any guilt or shame for what she’d just shared with Weston. She didn’t know sex could feel like that—a mixture of heat and tenderness, passion and playfulness. She didn’t know her body could explode at the same time as her partner’s; that had never happened for her and Dusty. In fact, with Dusty, sex was mostly something she did to make him happy, to feel close to him, to let him know she cared about him. For Molly, it had been less about physical pleasure and more about making an emotional connection. Sex with Weston had been physically mind-blowing in a way she’d never guessed possible, despite the deluge of romance novels she read regularly. But she was in awe of more than just the physical experience of sharing her body with him… she’d also felt viscerally, profoundly connected with him, her body to his body, her heart to his heart. She didn’t know—
she just didn’t know
—that kind of falling-apart and coming-together was possible at the same time.

This is just the beginning
.

Oh, God
, she thought,
I pray that’s true.

“Are you okay?” Weston asked, pressing his lips to her hair and pulling the blanket more tightly around them before resuming the gentle gliding motion of his hand on her bare back.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

He kissed her head again, then tipped her chin up with his free hand and dropped his lips to hers. A light touch. A caress. It made her stomach flutter with longing.
More.
She already wanted more.

Cupping her cheek to press her head gently back against his chest, one hand skated up and down her back while he laced his fingers through hers with the other.

“Want to know the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“Me neither,” he said softly.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’ve been with other women. I was pretty sure I was in love a couple of times too. But, the heat we have? It’s like you were made for me. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I could live inside of your body.”

Her lips twitched in satisfaction. “
That
good?”

“Almost scary-good.”

“Hush,” she protested. “Not scary. Just me.”

“You’re a phenomenon. Believe me.”

“I’m just Molly McKenna,” she said.

“No ‘just’ about it. When I say that you rocked my world, I literally mean that my life as I know it right this minute is completely different than it was before I met you at five o’clock toni—last night.”

“Last night?”

“It’s after midnight,” he said. “And do you know why that’s awesome?”

“Tell me,” she said, her heart swelling with happiness.

“Because it means that I am starting and ending today with you.”

“Cocky!” She laughed softly, leaning on his chest to catch his eyes. “Pretty sure you’ll be with me at 11:59 tonight, huh?”

He grinned at her, and she realized he was blushing which was so adorable, the fluttering in her stomach moved lower, contracting her recently spent muscles, telling her she was almost ready for him again.

“Hoping?” he amended.

She giggled, leaning forward to kiss him.

He kissed her back, tenderly, lovingly, like he was as starving for her as she was for him, like they hadn’t just climaxed in each other’s arms ten minutes before. Rolling her onto her back, she felt him hardening against her thigh and a thrill cut through her body.

“Do you want to…again?” he asked.

“Do you have another condom?”

He shook his head. “Not with me. I didn’t count on you, Molly.”

She grimaced, thinking of Dusty with Shana. “We can’t.”

“You’re not on the pill? Because I’m careful,” he assured her. “I always use protection.”

“Except now,” she said, sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, nodding. “Except now.”

If this truly was the beginning between her and Weston, she’d have time later to tell him about Dusty and Shana. She’d have time to get a clean bill of health before sharing her whole self with him and if he cared for her, he would wait. He would understand.

His lips brushed softly against hers, but she kept her lips together, refusing to be seduced. When he leaned back she offered him a small, chiding smile. “We can’t.”

“You’re a cruel woman, Molly McKenna.” He took a deep breath and sighed, rolling off her body onto his back.

She leaned on her elbow, gazing at him, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Dusty got Shana pregnant…while he was still with me.”
He turned to face her, his eyebrows furrowing as his face contorted into a sneer. “What a piece of shit.”

“And since I only found out last night, I haven’t had time to—”

“To get tested,” he finished for her, leaning on his elbow to mirror her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Presumably she’s been to an obstetrician, who would have already tested her for STDs, but I won’t feel certain until I’ve seen a doctor.”

Weston reached out, throwing an arm around her waist and pulling her close until her breasts were flush against his chest and their noses touched lightly. She wove her legs between his and he leaned forward to kiss her gently.

“I better not ever meet him, Molly. I wouldn’t trust myself not to do some serious damage.”

“Good thing it’s not a very likely scenario.” Molly cupped his cheek and kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want that, though, Wes. I don’t love him. I don’t even like him. I wouldn’t want you fighting over me. It wouldn’t be worth it.”

“It would to me.”

“You remind me of my brothers. Overprotective.”

“Ah, good. They all live in the same town, right? I’ll rest easy knowing that Dusty’s going to get what’s coming to him.” He glanced down at their naked bodies wrapped around each other. “And, ah-hem, I hope I don’t remind you of them
too
much.”

She cringed, wrinkling her nose. “You’re disgusting.”

His smile, followed by a spot-on Beavis & Butthead chuckle, was so boyish and silly, she couldn’t help but smile back, shaking her head at his antics.

“Hey,” he said, his smile fading, “Speaking of brothers, I didn’t tell you before, but I spilled the beans. About my plans for the future…about working for the DA’s office.”

***

“What? You did? When?”

“Tonight,” he said, pulling the goodness that was Molly as close to him as possible.

He half-considered getting dressed and running back to the house for another condom, but the reality was that lying naked next to Molly, her soft body pressed up against the hard ridges of his, talking to her, telling her things, was its own version of amazing that he was loathe to part with, even for more breathtaking sex. And that in and of itself said more about what was transpiring in his heart than anything else. Just being with Molly McKenna was enough for now. Especially since he would be buying and bringing a double-sized box of condoms for their date tonight.

“While Daisy and Fitz were having pictures taken with the cake, I told Stratton, but Alex and Barrett overheard.”

“And?”

He grimaced. “It didn’t go well. They were pissed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said gently, her face falling with compassion. “When I told my family about coming to Philly to teach, they were furious. My brothers left the room, mumbling about foolish women and big cities. My father looked at me with confused, disappointed eyes before following them out to the barn. But my mother and sister were the worst.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, her face taking on a far-away look. “We spent so much time together—like the three musketeers. Baking for the church and school events, making meals, all three of us pitching in to help with the chores throughout my childhood. Claire was married last year, but she and her husband live just up the road from my folks, so we still ate dinner together four or five times a week. It was a blow to them…”

Her voice was soft as her words trailed off, and Weston reached forward to brush her hair off her face, gently tucking the strands behind her ear. “It was brave.”

She shook her head. “I can’t see it like that. It didn’t feel like bravery because I wanted it so much. In fact, it was almost selfish. I didn’t really even consider my family, or…or Dusty.” She scoffed, lightly, her eyes wistful. “I was ruined the first time I saw the movie,
Stand and Deliver
, I think. I knew what I wanted to do.”

“You’re the only person I know who’d give up their comfortable life in small-town Ohio, move to a big city where you know no one, go to a bad area of town every day to teach marginalized kids, and call yourself selfish.” He kissed her nose then nuzzled it with his. “And
Stand and Deliver
is a great movie.”

“Tell me more…about your brothers.”

He sighed, rolling onto his back, and rubbing his eyes before pillowing his elbows behind his head. “Alex was furious. Barrett was disappointed. Stratton was…helpful. Fitz isn’t going to be happy.”

“What about your Dad?”

Weston shrugged, suddenly feeling tired, and though he didn’t second-guess his decision, a little alone. “I don’t know. I’ll find out tomorrow.”

He didn’t expect for Molly to suddenly straddle his waist, her naked body perched on top of his chest, her brown eyes serious and tender as they gazed down at him.

“Do I have your attention?” she asked.

His cock twitched, blood coursing like liquid fire through his veins, hardening it in an instant. He reached for her hips, kneading the soft warm skin, watching with awe as her bright pink nipples stiffened to delectable little peaks above him. Maybe they couldn’t have sex again right this minute, but he knew for a fact he wasn’t done enjoying Molly’s body tonight.

Her light chuckle distracted him, and he raised his eyes to hers.

“I have something to say,” she said, grinning. “Are you listening?”

“It’s safe to say that there isn’t anyone or anything else in the world that has my attention right this minute, Molly.”

Her lips parted and her eyes, languid with longing and arousal, darkened to black as she stared down at him. His thumbs slipped down the creases of her thighs, parting her silken folds. She was wet. No. Soaked. One thumb held her lips open while the other caressed her gently, swiping, flicking, priming her with teasing strokes while he watched her eyes widen and flutter. A little whimper escaped from her throat and Weston licked his lips. He knew exactly what he was going to do to her as soon as she said what she wanted to say.

“I’m listening,” he said, his voice low and slow, just short of breathless.

“I’m…” she gasped lightly as his thumb circled the tender nub again. “I’m proud of you. I’m…I’m just so…proud of…you.”

And just like that, he wasn’t alone anymore. He had Molly on his side, and as long as he had her, he felt like he could do anything.

Brimming with emotion, Weston sat up, putting his arms around her and lowering her gently to the straw. He knelt between her legs and gently draped her knees over his shoulders. Then he leaned forward and let his tongue finish the job his thumbs had started.

***

“Molly,” he whispered, “are you asleep?”

“Not yet,” she murmured, her limbs like jelly, her heart slowing down.

After he’d brought her to an earth shattering climax, he’d gathered her into his arms—her back to his front—piled some hay beneath their heads and pulled the blanket over their shoulders. Spooning beside him, his warm body pressed intimately against hers, the iron band of his muscular arm holding her tight, Molly was completely comfortable and ready to surrender to a few hours of sleep.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his breath near her ear.

“For what?” she asked, draping her arm over his, covering his hand with hers.

“For everything. For making the wedding not horrible. For encouraging me to follow my dreams, for not leaving, for…this.” His took a deep breath, his chest pushing into her back as she stroked his hand lovingly before threading her fingers through his. His voice was soft and tentative when he spoke again. “If you… I mean, if you change your mind about us in the morning, I just wanted you to know…this was the best night of my life. I wanted to be sure I said that.”