Kissing in Cars (Kiss and Make Up #1)(47)

I grab onto her waist with renewed enthusiasm.

My hands effortlessly find their way back under her shirt, and my crotch gets even harder (if that's even possible). I skim the underside of her bra, brushing my fingers back and forth against the lacey obstacle before my index finger lazily trails upward to trace the edge just above the cup.

Briefly I wonder what color her bra is before my whole palm envelopes her entire breast. As every teenage boy is wont to do, I feel its weight under my hand and give it a light squeeze, which earns me a throaty moan and a few grinding gyrations from Molly's hips into my groin.

"Fuck me that feels good," I croak out before I can stop myself. "Shit Molly, don't stop doing that." My plea is desperate even to my own ears as her denim clad ass grinds down on my erection, but it's been months since I've been laid and even longer since it's been anyone I actually gave a shit about. Okay, to be fair: I've never given a shit about anyone I've ever had sex with - so this whole 'caring' thing is something new, and I plan to enjoy it.

Even from the backseat of a cramped Jeep.

Molly's incredible tits are in my face now; the neckline of her tank top is now dipping so low from the pull of my hands inside it that her breasts are nearly exposed... and as Molly gasps out loud from my ministrations and further buries her fingers in the hair atop my head, I lean forward the slightest inch to press my lips against her soft, moist neck, trailing hot kisses down her collar bone towards her cleavage with a purpose.

Unable to stop myself, I lick between the valley of her breasts, letting my hot tongue linger on her salty skin. She smells like citrus, an aroma that I've come to fully appreciate as being uniquely Molly. I can't even eat an orange in the school cafeteria these days without getting turned on, for God's sake.

Somewhere from inside the Jeep, a cell phone rings.

Caught up in each other, we ignore it.

"Oh Weston, yeah..." Molly mutters. So sexy.

The phone begins ringing again, and through my fuzzy sex crazed haze, I recognize the ringtone: It's my mom.

Fuck shit, double shit.

"Babe, I have to get that," I gasp into Molly's plump cleavage. "It's my mom. She'll kill me if I don't answer it." Groaning, Molly untangles herself from my lap and I let my palm cup her ass before it lands in the seat next to mine.

Digging in my pants pocket, I extract my cell and make quick work of redialing my parents. Immediately, my mom's voice answers. "Where are you? It's raining buckets and your father was just about to come out looking for you."

"I'm stranded in a parking lot, waiting it out with a friend."

Brief pause.

My mom's not an idiot. "Does this 'friend' have a vehicle that can deliver you home? You can leave the bike and your dad can bring you back to get it later."

I glance at Molly. "Yes."

"Okay. Then she can come in and meet us when you get here. I expect you home in fifteen minutes."

Click.

The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone.

"What did she say," Molly asks from beside me with wide eyes, cheeks flushed from my five o'clock shadow, and lips swollen from my kisses.

Unable to resist the temptation, I lean over and give her an open mouth kiss before saying, "They want to meet you."





MOLLY


Dear lord, did he just say what I think he said?

"They want to...meet me?" Stupidly I repeat what he just told me, which, incidentally, I absolutely hate when people do it to me. Drives me bonkers.

"Yeah. I mean, I don't think that was originally the intention, but now that I'm stranded here the opportunity presented itself. My mom said they want me to leave the bike here and when you bring me home, they want you to come in and meet them. Are you cool with that?" Weston looks are me expectantly.

"I... sure. I mean... I guess the better question here is, are you okay with it?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but before any words come out, there is a loud banging on the back window of the jeep. We both turn in surprise to see Mary and Olivia with their hands and faces pressed up against the glass, and now they're shouting but I can't for the life of me understand what they're saying.

"What the f*ck?" Weston voices exactly what I am thinking before scooting over and rolling the window down halfway, rain suddenly intruding on our warm, dry haven. "What the hell are you two doing," he asks, completely disgusted.

"Mary was worried you were stranded because your crotch rocket is still here, so we wanted to check and see if you needed a ride." The rain is battering down on them both and now they look like drowned rats. At this point, Olivia's mascara is running down her face and she looks like Alice Cooper, a rock star from the 80's who resembles a corpse.

Or a zombie. Whatever it is you're into.

"Are you f*cking kidding me? I'm in the back of a Jeep with my... with Molly. Why would you think I needed a ride home?"

Okay, even I'll admit he's being a tad harsh.

Olivia and Mary just stand in dark parking lot, rain shining under the dull street lamps that fail to light it. Water drips off Mary's nose as she stands there getting soaked and I can't help but take pity on them. "Go you guys! Go dry off before you get sick. We're leaving anyways."