Breathe (Hollow Ridge #2) - C.L. Matthews Page 0,55

lip, the way her teeth glide over the flesh has me coming undone. I’ve waited for this moment, and now that it’s here, my nerves overwhelm every inch of me.

What if I hurt her?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Past

Joey

The way he’s eating me up with his expression alone has my legs quaking with need. Desire pools in my belly and lower, wanting—no—needing his touch. He’s been so sweet and gentle, and that’s not what I want. Though the memories are few and far too many, I remember the way he handled me in Vegas and at Francis’s house. I’m not a gentle doll who desires sweet touches; I’m more of a fuck doll who likes being hammered into, and he knows it.

“Fuck.” His single word has me nervous with excitement. It’s that kind of thrill that skates up your skin, buzzing along the way.

“That’s exactly what I want,” I respond, trying to hide the heat flaming my skin. His eyes are connecting with mine, and there’s a question there, possibly more, but I don’t want questions or reassurances. Him inside me is my only desire right now. Stroking deep like I know he can and gutting me from the inside out with his cock—that’s what we need.

I waggle my finger at him, desperate for him to touch me, to go faster, get rougher, and take, take, take.

He smirks, his lips tilting at the sides. That fucking smirk always gets us both into trouble. It breaks down my barriers and fucks me the same way I know he can.

He slowly shrugs off the rest of his shirt. The one destroyed by my impatience and costs a small fortune—not that I care. It stopped my hands from roaming, so it needed to go. It gives me the opportunity to stare at him. Really stare at him. He’s usually super stand-offish when it comes to his body. There are scars everywhere, I’ve seen glimpses. You can tell he tried hiding them with tattoos, covering up his past, something I know nothing about. When he reaches for his pants, my impatience rises. He’s purposely going slow to torture me.

I sit up, and my hands go to his slacks. His eyes devour me as I unbutton and unzip them. Dragging them down with his boxer briefs, my eyes connect with his cock. It’s huge. Way bigger than I remember. It doesn’t help that I gulp loudly, and he chuckles, only making me more nervous. Without asking, I touch his velvety length, loving the feel beneath my fingertips.

“Josephine,” he hisses, his face one of pain.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, knowing it’s not from me doing something wrong, but more than likely the three months he’s gone without sex or intimate human touch. I grip him, not knowing how he likes it but hoping the knowledge I have is enough. A guttural groan escapes his thick throat as he glares down at me. It’s not an angry one, but heated, like fucking coals that have basked in the flames for hours.

Toby’s knees connect with the mattress, forcing me to lie back. He kisses my left shoulder, trailing to my collarbone, all while I stroke him softly, teasingly, wanting more but unable to push him to the brink. His lips, feather-soft and hot, make their way to my throat. He licks, swirls over the veins, and sucks with purpose. Marking me. Claiming me.

I moan as his left hand grips my hips, rubbing his thumb in circles, taunting me. “Please,” I whimper as that same hand grips my breast, kneading it reverently. He flicks my nipple, making me hiss in approval.

“Please what?” he torments, moving his mouth over the pebbled flesh and flicking his tongue over the tightened bud.

“Fuck me,” I plead, widening my legs.

“Shh, Sous,” he hushes, bringing our lips together. A moan tries slipping out as his fingers spread me, dancing flagrantly over my clit. I buck into him, wanting him to fill me. It’s been so long; a slow, torturous burn that exceeds anything I’ve ever had to wait for.

When he pulls back, his eyes are vibrant green, edgy, full of worship and lust. He’s holding back, but this time in his eyes, it’s not because of anyone other than us. The way he gazes at me is with remembrance and hope. A future.

“I love you,” he whispers, the bereft moment without air as I’m trying to gain back my mind hits me. “Breathe, Josephine.” And I do. Dissolving into a pile of ashes beneath his strong body, I flutter away,

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