Baking and Babies (Chocoholics #3)(59)

GAAAAAAAAAH, FOCUS! I’m Alfanso D., I’m Alfanso D. Just get it over with!

“Great! Perfect,” I reply with a clap of my hands, entirely too excited to sit down and talk instead of sitting down and burying my face in her vagina. “How about we sit on the couch and talk.”

And then I’ll bury my face in your vagina.

“How about you start talking and I’ll get comfortable.”

Mentally screaming at my dick to take a nap for a few minutes instead of trying to claw his way through my zipper, I smile and take a step towards the couch, figuring Molly is going to take her shoes off and put her feet up on the coffee table to get comfortable or something.

I barely take one step towards the couch before my feet refuse to move and I freeze like a deer caught in headlights.

When Molly said she’d get comfortable, she really meant it. In one smooth, quick motion, she grabs the hem of her dress and quickly slides the material up and off her body, tossing it to the side where it lands in a puddle on the carpet.

“Sweet baby back ribs,” I whisper.

Molly crosses one leg in front of the other and casually clasps her hands together behind her ass, the motion pushing her tits out until I’m pretty sure I feel a little drool dripping down my chin.

She’s wearing a black lace thong and a matching black lace strapless bra, the material so sheer I can see her nipples. And Land O’Lakes what wonderful nipples they are.

“Do you still want to talk or is there something else you’d rather do?” she asks innocently.

Talk? What’s talk? Who said talk? Do I know the word talk?

“I might have a few ideas, but I think I need a little more inspiration,” I tell her quietly, surprised I’m able to unglue my tongue from the top of my mouth and remember how to string words together.

Her hands move up behind her back and she expertly unclasps the hook of her bra, the sheer black lace dropping from her body to land at her feet.

“Damn, you’re like a ninja with that thing,” I whisper, unable to remove my eyes from her naked tits. “It takes me at least five tries to unhook a bra. It’s like I have giant gorilla fingers whenever I get near those damn things.”

Okay, I know I said I wanted to talk, but this is just pathetic. Why am I rambling about gorilla fingers when there’s a half-naked woman in my living room with the best pair of tits this side of the Mississippi. And the other side of the Mississippi. And all down the f*cking Mississippi.

STOP THINKING ABOUT MISSISSIPPI AND START THINKING ABOUT TITS, YOU PUSSY!

While I’m busy standing in the middle of my living room having an argument in my head, Molly walks towards me until she’s right in front of me. She slides her hands around my waist and presses her naked body against me. I can feel her nipples poking into my pecs, and I swear I hear the sound of my zipper ripping to shreds as my dick tries to hulk his way out of my jeans and into the Promised Land.

My head finally catches up with my body and I move my hands to her hips, sliding them around to clutch her smooth, perfect ass.

“I’m just going to apologize ahead of time for ruining this,” I whisper.

“Why would you ruin this?” she asks, pressing her hips against mine and gently kissing my chin.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ruin it, but I’m pretty sure my dick will,” I mutter, moaning softly when she kisses a trail across my jaw and to my neck.

“My dick is an * and never listens to me. You’re so f*cking hot and beautiful, and I’m pretty positive he’s going to ignore all the baseball stats and college football teams I can name in alphabetical order and come in about five seconds if you keep doing that,” I ramble in one long incoherent sentence, moaning again when she wraps her lips around my earlobe and gently tugs on it with her teeth. “Fucking hell, you’re so good at this.”

Her lips immediately disappear from my ear and she leans back just enough so I can see her face. Gone is the confidence and determination I love so much and in its place is the same nervous and scared look she had when she first walked into my kitchen.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Was it the dick thing? I was just kidding. Sort of. I mean, I’ve always been able to last as long as I need to, but I’ve never been with someone I fantasized about for two years. I’m having a hard time believing this isn’t a dream, but I promise I’ll try my best to keep my dick in line,” I over-explain.

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “It’s stupid, but I need to tell you something. Ava told me to tell you but Charlotte told me to keep my mouth shut because it would ruin everything, but I can’t do it. I am really out of my element here and Ava even made me practice this in front of the mirror until I could do it without rolling my eyes or covering myself up but I still feel like a liar and a hypocrite and I don’t want to keep this from you because I really like you. I more than like you. I’m just going to spit out and if you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

I don’t feel so bad anymore about the whole gorilla fingers thing when Molly rambles without taking a breath and it just makes me want to stick her in my pocket and keep her forever. You know, if Harry Potter were a real person and he’d let me borrow his wand to make her tiny. But there would have to be a reverse spell where I could make her big again so she’d have normal-size hands and a normal-size mouth and a normal-size vagina because I might not have a dick the size of a python, but I’m pretty sure it could still kill a teeny tiny Molly that fits in my pocket.