On the Run (Whispering Key #2) - May Archer Page 0,51
you?” Toby looked almost tragically disappointed, and somehow I found myself huffing out a chuckle. “But my blow jobs change lives.”
“No!” I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “I mean, yes. I mean… If it’s uncomfortable for you, please don’t feel obligated to—”
Toby laughed out loud. “Beale, I don’t know who these philistines were that they could not appreciate the utter work of art they had a chance to see up close, but I promise you, obligation is the very last thing I feel when I look at you.”
He pushed me against the column again, pretty forcefully for a guy his size, and I was so startled I let him. He looked up at me with brown eyes gone liquid hot. “You’re at my mercy now, Beale Goodman.”
I swallowed. “I am?”
Toby nodded. “Oh, yes. And hear me now: I did not survive a half-dozen near-death experiences and at least two painfully awkward conversations only to have this body withheld from me because you’re getting in your head over this.”
He whipped his shirt off and threw it on the ground, and… oh. Just oh.
My brain turned to soup at all that golden skin laid out before me like a feast, and I couldn’t think of words that had more than two letters.
He licked his lips and ran his fingers just behind the waistband of my shorts, trapping my shirt against my stomach. His thumb teased over the button.
“I wasn’t asking you about this stuff because I wanted a resumé of your sexual experiences, Beale. I was asking because I want this to be good for you. I wanted to know what you liked, and I didn’t want to rush you. Okay?”
He glanced up at me through his eyelashes, and any resistance I had faded away. He was so damn beautiful, and I could see how badly he wanted me. It made me feel powerful.
I cupped his jaw in one hand, committing the feel of his skin to memory. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Toby grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged, and I bent to help him. He dropped my shirt on the ground next to his, and something about the sight captivated me—the way the fabric pooled together in the sunshine, the symbolism of the thing, the—
“Fuck, look at you,” he breathed, pulling my attention firmly back to him. He slid both hands up my stomach slowly with open palms, exploring each ridge and bump, and then he pinched my nipples lightly.
I hissed, and he did it again. Then slowly, deliberately, holding my gaze the whole time, he leaned in and captured one between his teeth.
My head thunked back against the pole, and I groaned. My cock was hard as iron, and I couldn’t help the way my hips shifted up, seeking attention with each brush of his thumbs.
“Later on, I’m going to spread you out on the bed,” Toby said conversationally, tilting his head toward the guesthouse. He licked a stripe over my left nipple while his fingers toyed with my right, and I gasped as the breeze blew over the damp skin. “I’m going to straddle you and tell you not to move.”
“Hmmphokay,” I managed.
“It’s gonna be better than okay, baby,” he purred, and my mind tried to catch hold of the baby, but it slipped away like ripples in the pool. He brushed kisses over my collarbone and up my neck to my ear. He tugged my hair to one side, to give him more room. “I’m going to lick and suck every square inch of this chest, and mark you up, and do all kinds of things. I’m gonna make you tell me every single thing you’ve dreamed up for the last decade but never got to do, and then we’re going to do them.”
“Hnghhhkay.”
He chuckled against my skin, which was a special kind of pleasure. “I think I broke you, and I think I like it. I haven’t even touched your cock yet, and my capable, competent Beale is already a boneless puddle of ‘okays,’ which—eep!”
I reversed our positions in the blink of an eye, grabbed both his hands, and pinned them to the column above his head. He stared up at me, eyes wide and excited, and I couldn’t not kiss him… so I did, taking my time and savoring the feeling of his body melting against mine.
“Toby?” I said hoarsely when I pulled back.
Those pretty brown eyes blinked open, not quite focused.