With a growl he shoves his hips toward me, his control snapping as his hands go to my jeans, and he fumbles with the button. "I'm gonna rip these fucking things down the middle if you don't help me get them off your damn hips," he threatens with gritted teeth.
Reaching down, I push my jeans and panties down just enough so that I can get one leg out, and spread that one far enough so that I can hook it around his waist. Digging my heel with my shoe still on into his ass, I reach in between my legs and play with my clit.
He smacks my fingers away. "That's mine to play with Pretty Girl, you wanted me out of control, and I'm there."
My body shudders as I feel him thrust deep inside. Both of us groan as he bottoms out and then pulls back, starting the push and pull between us. Raking my fingernails down his back, I hold on tight as he takes me on the ride of my life.
I'm doing my best to push up into him, to help with the rocking. The truck is making noise as we fuck, and I can't help but wonder if anyone is driving by trying to figure out what's going on.
"Molly, tell me you're almost there," he grits out.
"I am, play with my clit and it won't take long." I've been wet most of the night, just like he's been hard.
The one thing about Dakota Keller? He takes direction fucking well, and as he presses his thumb into my swollen clit, I come right along with him. Pressing his forehead to mine, he closes his eyes and sighs. "I can't believe we just did that," he chuckles.
Licking my lips, I test moving my hip, wincing when it catches slightly. "I can't either, but I'm thrilled that I made you lose control."
He pushes the hair back from my face. "You can always make me lose control. I don't have much when it comes to you."
Chapter 11
Dakota
A couple of days later, I'm parking my parents driveway, and flipping the hood up on my jacket as I run through the rain that's coming down. When I get to the back porch, my dad holds the door open. "Get on in here."
It takes me a few minutes to shake the water off, and when I'm done, I toe off my shoes and then walk into the kitchen. Mom is standing at the counter making a sandwich, so I swoop in, and kiss her on the cheek. "Hey Mama."
"Hey yourself. Haven't seen you much in a while."
I try not to take the words to heart. She wants to see me all the time and sometimes I just can't swing it. "I'm sorry. Things have been crazy at work." I don't tell her that I'm spending a good portion of my time with Molly, too.
"I know, and you're an adult. You have an entire life without me."
"Mama, that's not all it is. I'm doing some improvements on my house." Well I was before I started spending time with Molly. "I'm still decompressing slightly from the undercover op that Levi and I went on. Being a full-fledged adult is busy," I laugh.
She makes a sound that's somewhere between a hum and a sigh, and slides the second half of the sandwich onto a plate and pushes it toward me without asking if I want it. That's my mom in a nutshell. She's not going to say she missed me with her words if she can say it with food instead, and I have learned over the years not to argue with the method. I pull out a stool at the counter and sit down.
Dad has settled himself at the kitchen table with the newspaper, which he still gets delivered in print because he does not trust anything that only exists on a screen, and the rain is picking up against the windows. It's a slow Alabama afternoon that's good for nothing except being inside somewhere warm, and relaxing with friends or family.
"How's the house coming along?" Dad asks without looking up from his paper.
"Slow," I admit. "I started pulling up the floor in the second bedroom, and it's in worse shape than I thought. I need to get back in there and figure out what I'm dealing with before I do anything else."
"You need a hand with it?"
"Maybe. I'll let you know once I see what the subfloor looks like underneath." My dad is the type of man who has never paid someone else to do something he can do himself, and he passed that down to me whether I wanted it or not. There's something satisfying about it, even when it's inconvenient. "I'll take you over sometime and get your eyes on it."
He nods, still reading, and that's settled.
Mom finishes whatever she was working on at the counter and then leans her elbows on it across from me, and I know that look well enough to know something is coming. She's got the same patient expression she used to get when she was waiting for me to admit I'd done something wrong, when I was a kid and she already knew the answer and was just giving me the opportunity to tell her the truth before she told it to me herself. I pick up the sandwich half and take a bite and wait.
"Lucy said something interesting the other night," she starts.
There it is. "Lucy says a lot of interesting things."
"She does." Mom tilts her head. "This particular interesting thing was about you and Molly Harrison."
I chew slowly and set the sandwich back down, and I do what I always do when I need a second to think, which is to reach over and take a long drink of whatever is closest. In this case it's the glass of water sitting near the edge of the counter, which Mom put there at some point without me noticing, because she always anticipates. "Is that right?"