I laugh. “More Little Haven evolution from teen to adult. Now, instead of getting thrown into leaves in your parents’ backyard, you get to enjoy the leaves at your very own inn.”
“You are theworst.”
Molly bucks with more power than I expect, hoisting herself on top of me to straddle my waist. She’s got two handfuls of leaves that she shoves down my shirt, laughing the whole time.
“Molly!” I pant as I push her off me and roll to pin her beneath my hips. “Are you kidding me right now?”
She’s just grinning up at me, the tip of her sloped nose just as rosy as her cheeks and lips. A wave of scent wafts off her, and I find myself overwhelmed with an unexpected mix of sweet peony and fresh coffee. Her chest heaves against her coat as I pin her there, and her tiny hands curl around my wrists.
My cock twitches where it’s pressed up against her thigh. Shit.
I scramble off.
“Cocoa break?” I ask her, careful to avoid eye contact. My gloved hands are clasped in front of my crotch, trying desperately to hide the erection Iknowshe could feel. “I’m just going to run in and use the bathroom, then I’ll bring out two mugs…”
Molly says something in response, but I don’t hear her as I push through the back door and let myself back in to the blistering heat of the inn. I can hardly hear my own thoughts over the wild thumping of my heart in my chest, pumping ever more blood down to my stiff, aching cock. I use my teeth to pull the glove off my right hand and run my fingers over the bulge. The movement sends an instant wave of incredible pressure through my abdomen and down my shaft, pooling in my straining balls.
How did I let myself get this riled up? How did I even get myself in this position to be helping out Molly Moore when I could have just been keeping my head down and working toward getting back with my team?
But my fucking body doesn’t listen to my logic. My dick is still weighty in my hands, sore with desperation for relief.
I glance behind me, wondering if Molly still stands in the snow, watching the trial of my departure and considering what could have sent me skittering. I catch my breath as I realize she’s returned to her raking. She bends down to scoop some leaves into her garbage bag, and her shapely ass fills out every tight inch of her dark jeans. My ill-behaved cock strains again, and I realize with a fresh wave of shame that I’m actively rubbing it through my own pants now, nursing this urgency that’s built up over only two or three minutes.
I glance over my shoulder at the inn’s lobby. Mr. Bates is at the high school today; he’s supposed to call me for basketball practice later. Miss Hales mentioned a visit with her niece two towns over, and the only other guests I’ve seen in the place were two honeymooners that have been holed up in their bedroom since night one. I can actually hear the floorboards creaking above my head now, and the erotic allusion to sex sends a wet blossom of precum to douse my jeans.
I hold my breath and tug down my zipper, slipping my fingers through the opening and around my thick, swollen cock. This can’t be a good idea, Gray. This can’t be conducive to “keeping your head down” or “focusing on getting your job back.”
But then Molly steps back to examine a particularly nasty tangle of vines near one of her pine trees, and she starts to remove her coat. She must be sweating again as I was, worked up by the labor despite the chill. When her coat comes off, her thin flannel is revealed underneath. It’s a tight-fitting button-down thing, with one closure that strains across the generous swell of her breasts.
My hand is working my shaft now, keeping time to the creaks I hear from the floorboards above. My thumb caresses my wet crown, spreading the precum that’s pooled there. My neck rolls with pleasure.
This is so fucking wrong. It’s voyeurism and, maybe just as bad, Molly is my best friend’s little sister. I might have permission from her brother, but that doesn’t mean I should want it.
Molly bends over again, and I groan as a new wave of feeling tingles through the bottom of my shaft. There’s a tightness building in my core, urging me so close to that forbidden relief. My breath is fogging up the glass of the window, and I use my fist to wipe it away so it doesn’t obscure my view of the working inn-keep.
I’m bracing against the door, the strength going out in my knees as I finally give in to stroking my cock relentlessly. It’s out, long and hard and wet, the tip nearly touching the wood of the door as I pound.
“You’re so gentle with those leaves. Like, respectful.”
Her sing-song voice in the back of my head teases me as I touch myself. Suddenly, I’m aching to throw her down into those leaves again, to rip down those tight jeans and show her how not-gentle I could be.
My cock is throbbing. The pressure is overwhelming, sending black stars across my vision as I watch the curves of Molly’s body and think about every touch, every stroke, every lick I would make if given the chance. When she stands back and rubs her neck as she examines her work, the first sputter of my release sends my forehead slumping against the glass, so loud it might even draw her attention if things are quiet enough.
Worse still, a loud, ragged groan escapes my lips. My load paints her door, washing down the wood in thick, creamy bursts. My hands are shaking, and my forearms are straining with the concentrated work I’ve just performed. I press one hand to the cool glass above my head, allowing myself one tiny moment to rest before I get away from this door and clean it the fuck up.
When I finally brave looking back through the window, Molly is still hard at work. She’s not watching the door, horrified by the man masturbating as he watches her. She doesn’t know what happened.
And it’s better that way. It’s definitely better that way.
But something inside me aches, half-wishing she’d caught me in my dirty act.
CHAPTER SIX: MOLLY
Hunter grins when he sees me enter Dirty John’s. He rounds his way out from behind the counter, removing the apron he always wears when he picks up a shift here to toss it to a passing busboy.
“So, you’ve opted to not eat your usual ham and Swiss for lunch for the first time in months. Is someone avoiding their inn?”
He pulls me into a crushing hug, my eye roll wasted as my face is smushed into my big brother’s shoulder. Hunter guides me through the restaurant, motioning to a waiter to bring us drinks before he settles me at a table to the side.