Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Her tongue swirls around mine. I kiss her once, twice, and on the third peck, I pull away, moving my mouth to her jaw.
With slow movements, I trail a line down her neck, dipping my tongue in the hollow before moving to her exposed collarbone.
Since she still has her shirt on, I drop down, positioning myself to continue my exploring. When my mouth meets her skin this time, my teeth graze her soft flesh.
It drifts up, getting closer and closer to where she wants me, but I don’t go there. Instead, I trail kisses up and down her thigh.
Hands tug at my hair, and I look up to find Molly staring down at me, her eyes fiery with desire.
“Don’t you dare pull away again.” She groans as my tongue starts its descent in the opposite direction as she wants.
Her legs shake in protest. “Please.”
“Patience.” I lick my way back up, leaving goose bumps in my tongue’s wake.
A groan escapes her mouth, but I still don’t give her what she wants. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an asshole?”
“Wow, I didn’t know you were so impatient, Hex.” I chuckle against her skin.
I nip her thigh. Then I trace my tongue over her bare pussy lips, kissing the plump skin.
“Beg me to fuck you with my mouth.”
“No.”
I lean forward and blow on her swollen clit. Her whole body shudders. A primal moan escapes her lips.
I pull back. “Beg me, Molly.”
I peer up, catching her glassy gaze, mouth open in pleasure as she silently begs me with her eyes to get her off.
When she shakes her head, I move closer, running my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top.
“Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you.”
“Fuck me with your tongue.”
“Good girl. Your wish is my command, wife.”
And I do. My lips move up, kissing her clit once before sucking it into my mouth.
A primal moan escapes her as I swap off between licking and sucking.
My tongue moves lower, leaving her clit and finding her dripping wet hole. I dip my tongue inside until she’s squirming against me, then I add a finger, replacing my tongue.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.”
My fingers push, curving upward to find her sweet spot, while my mouth latches back on to her clit.
“What I’d do to fuck you right here. Right now. Fuck. Your pussy is grasping my finger so tight. It’s begging to be fucked by my cock.”
“Just do it already,” she groans, making me chuckle.
“Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?” I press a firm kiss to her again, nipping this time. Driving her crazy.
“You’re all talk.”
“And you’re a needy little girl. But I’ll shut you up.” And with that, I return my mouth to her clit, pretending it’s her mouth and kissing her until she’s a mess.
“I’m coming.”
And she does, on my tongue, just like I wanted.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
And as I told her . . .
All mine.
And when she finally comes down from the high, I can’t help but ask, “Would it be the worst thing to stay married to me?”
“No,” she says sadly. “No, it would not.”
63
Hudson
It’s pandemonium in the conference room.
The reporters maneuver for a good position in the room, causing chaos to erupt.
The flash of the cameras is nearly blinding.
We’re here to discuss a new team fundraising campaign that we will be kicking off, but as usual, it’s open season for these vultures.
For the past ten minutes, we’ve barely covered anything we prepared.
Instead, reporters have been firing off personal questions while we dodged them.
Everyone looks pissed, but I’m okay. Seeing as I’ve never had a good reputation, I’m used to it. The PR team has prepped me well. Smile. Joke. Deflect.
Basically, keep them entertained by my stellar personality.
Usually, it’s easy. Today, though, there’s a tightness in my chest I can’t shake, and it’s all because of Molly.
I glance down the line of my teammates, all sitting at the long table with me. Mason’s leaning back in his chair, looking bored as hell.
Aiden’s answering a question about his offseason training regimen with his usual calm professionalism. And Dane—is being grumpy.
I try to focus, but my mind keeps drifting back to Molly. It’s been eight weeks since that fateful night in Vegas, eight weeks of looking for an attorney and finding them all lacking.
None of them have been right for us, so we’ve been sneaking around in the meantime, hoping this mess doesn’t blow up in our faces.
“Hudson!” someone shouts my name, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s coming from a reporter at the far-right corner of the room. He’s got brown hair and has a voice that looks too deep to be coming from him. He stares at me before speaking again. “Let’s talk about your plans for next season. Do you think the Saints can pull off another Cup win?”