his teeth across my bottom lip, wanting him to bite harder, wishing I didn’t want him so much. He feels essential. If I don’t have him, my body will wither; that’s how he makes me feel. How is that possible? How is any of this happening right now?
Toby pulls back, looking at me with heat, his eyes glint conspiratorially. It’s endearing, and I hate that too. That we’ve never been more than this moment, but it seems we should be.
Dragging my eyes from the glistening of his jaw and throat, all the way down to his stiff dick, I practically heat right back up, wanting him to take me again.
Bruise me.
Claim me.
Take, take, take.
What is happening to me?
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to get better acquainted with that pussy.”
I blush, feeling it hit my cheeks. My body warms at the smile that tilts his lips, and I want this moment to stay. To wrap it up with safety-tape and keep it tucked away where reality won’t tarnish it.
“What if I want you to explore more?” I question. It comes out a lot huskier than intended, but the way his eyes narrow, darkening his irises, I’m pleased with the outcome. My hands flatten against my car, needing something to ground me since the cobblestone beneath my feet seems just as unstable as the emotions warring inside me.
“Fuck. Joey. You’re killing me here.”
I can’t help but grin because he hasn’t called me Joey yet. It sounds desperate coming from him, and it’s something I shouldn’t get addicted to.
“We should go then, old man. Especially if someone your age can’t handle it,” I taunt, biting my lip at the glare he returns. Instead of arguing, he flips me against the car, spreading my thighs once more.
“Can’t handle it?” he mocks, smacking my ass. “It’s you who should be worried, Sous.”
Then he’s thrusting into me in one go, pistoning against my ass as if it’s meant to slap. He growls when I push into him, forcing him deeper. He slides a palm up my spine, making sure to leave chills in its wake, and trails it to my hair. His fingers delve into the frizzy mess, fisting it while he uses it as his own rein. I cry out as he angles his hips to hit me there—that bumpy spot inside me that Wes never found—making me shake. Sparks break out over my skin, hardening my nipples with the chill.
“So fucking tight. Did you know that? You’re squeezing me like a fucking vise, Josephine.”
With my name on his tongue, I’m gripping him tighter, flexing as an orgasm takes over. He tugs my loose curls harder and deepens his thrusts.
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he grunts, and then I feel him release inside me again, heat swimming through me, soothing me from the inside out.
Sweat lines my spine, forehead, and arms, coating me with lust and satisfaction. When he pulls out again, I’m shaking from head to toe. Not ever experiencing this kind of sex with Wes and never this intense of a workout either. Even though I surf often and run just the same, it’s like Toby worked muscles I didn’t know my body had.
“We should probably leave before someone comes out,” he mentions, and resituates my shorts, patting my ass gently. “But next time you test my stamina—” he traces a finger to the crease of my ass. “—I’ll show you just how many ways I can stick my cock inside you and still keep going.”
His words send shivers of promise through me, and I’ve never wanted to test a theory more. Especially when I wiggle back into his groin and feel him already half stiff.
“Guess I should lay on the old man jokes thicker next time.” The tease no sooner leaves my lips before he’s smacking my ass and making me yelp at the sting of pain. And if the little slut in me doesn’t jump in glee at the sensation...
“Move that ass, Sous.”
“Yes, boss,” I mock, batting my eyelashes.
“Cheeky girl,” he muses, kissing my nose affectionately.
At that moment, I was no longer the homeless, penniless, and loveless girl who just lost everything.
I was his. Tobias Hayes’s.
And not even I realized what that meant at the time.
Part II
Intoxicated
You never realize your life is destroyed until there’s only scraps of what hope looked like.
It’s like an invisible tornado. Chaos and destruction remain, even while you can’t see the curator of the damage.
Yet unlike an invisible storm, you know even with