53. Amelia
Chapter 53
Amelia
T obias's mouth on my neck is pure torture in this Uber. His hands haven't left my body since we stumbled out of the apartment, and every touch is stoking a fire that makes me want to say fuck it and drag him straight home to bed.
"I want you." I breathe against his lips, and his hand slides up my thigh, disappearing beneath my dress. His mouth tears away from mine, and when his eyes lock on me, they're molten. The connection between us sparks like a live wire—a whole conversation happening in complete silence.
No panties.
The realization hits him like a physical blow. His jaw clenches, pupils blown wide with want, and I grab his wrist, dragging his hand back up my dress. I need his touch, his fingers—anything to ease the unbearable ache he's built inside me.
"Fuck, Amelia." Tobias's voice is a rough whisper against my ear, his fingers pressing against me, teasing me until I'm ready to scream. "All I wanna do is put my mouth on your pussy and fuck you with my tongue."
I bite down on my lip, trying to keep quiet as his touch sets every nerve ending on fire. Our poor Uber driver has no clue I'm about five seconds away from coming apart in his back seat. But the guy of my dreams? He always knows.
Tobias pulls back, leaving me right on the edge as the Uber slows in front of Fusion, the club where we're meeting Logan and Harper tonight. My body thrums with frustration, desire pooling between my thighs, but that cocky smirk on his perfect face tells me he knows exactly what he's doing.
It's the first time I've been to a club since moving here. Sure, I've hit a few bars, and obviously, I work in one, but Fusion has a reputation for being the place to go. Harper sold it to me in her typical sunshine-and-rainbows way. "They actually play music you can scream-sing to without feeling like a basic bitch." I'm not entirely sure what that means, but coming from Harper, it sounds like exactly what I need tonight.
Tobias steps out first, confident as always. When he turns back to offer his hand, I take it, letting him help me from the car. The second I'm steady on these nude heels, his fingers lace through mine, and he doesn't let go.
It feels as natural as breathing, like we've been holding hands forever. But this tiny part of me still can't quite believe it's real. Not in a bad way—more like that surreal moment when you realize your wildest dream just became your reality. My heart does this stupid little flutter every time I remember that this is us now.
His grip is firm and possessive in a way that says she's mine , and I can't help but smile as we approach the line outside the club. The bouncer nods at Tobias, recognizing him instantly, and we're waved through like royalty.
"You know him?" I have to lean in close to be heard over the bass already vibrating through the sidewalk.
"Tattooed his entire chest a while back. Spent hours with the guy."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Yeah? What did he get?"
"Eagle wings," Tobias says, his grin growing. "Massive piece. Covered his whole chest and stretched up onto his shoulders. It took forever, but the guy sat like a rock."
The club is a swirl of shadow and neon, with bodies packed tight, moving to the beat of the music. Mirrors catch every flash of purple and blue light, and whoever decorated this place scattered flowers everywhere like they were trying to make chaos look pretty.
"You set a meeting place?" Tobias murmurs as he pauses mid-step, leaning into my ear.
"The bar," I shout back, and he drops a soft kiss on the top of my head before we keep moving through the sea of people.
I spot Harper and Logan, looking like they're living in their own little world.
"You're looking cozy there," I whisper in Harper's ear, causing her to spin around. Her face lights up for a split second before her eyes zero in on where Tobias's hand is linked with mine. Her gaze darts between us, and her lips quirk with that joyful little smile.
"Hey," she says, eyes dropping to our joined hands once again like she can't quite believe what she's seeing.
Logan, ever the gentleman, extends a hand to Tobias. "Good to see you again, man."
Tobias steps up, shaking his hand with that easy confidence he carries like a second skin.
"Drinks?" Harper chirps as she turns toward the bar.
Tobias's hands find my waist, steadying me as he presses his chest to my back. I drop one hand to cover his, threading our fingers together, and his grip tightens just enough to say, I've got you .
With our drinks in our hands, we find a booth tucked toward the back of the club. It's quieter here, the music still loud but less overwhelming, and the four of us settle into the curved seat.
Harper lifts her drink with all the dramatic flair of a theater kid, her smile pure mischief. "To our girl," she announces, jabbing her finger at me, "who walked into that auditorium and burned the whole fucking place down."
Glasses clink in celebration, and I take a sip of my wine, hyperaware of Tobias's muscular thigh pressed against mine. My hand finds its way there without conscious thought, and the heat of him seeps through his dark jeans, anchoring me to this perfect moment.
"It still feels like a dream," I breathe out, my head spinning with more than just alcohol.
Tobias's large hand covers mine, his thumb tracing patterns that send sparks of electricity up my arm. "I knew you'd do it, baby," he murmurs, and when I meet his gaze, everything else—the music, the crowd, the whole world—just… disappears.
"Okay, time out," Harper interrupts, setting her drink down and waving her hands between us. "Can we just address this?" She gestures dramatically, pointing between Tobias and me. "Because Logan looks like his brain's about to leak out his ears."
Tobias's laugh rumbles through his chest as his arm wraps around my shoulders.
"I didn't realize you two were…" Logan starts, scratching the back of his neck like he's unsure how to finish that sentence. "I mean, Tate said something, and Harper tried to explain, but I thought they were confused."
"We know people are going to have questions, but it just happened," Tobias says, as easy as breathing, his hand still warm against my shoulder, "and she's the best thing that's ever walked into my life."
I nod, watching as understanding gradually settles across Logan’s face. Meanwhile, Harper's practically bouncing in her seat, shooting me a thumbs-up that screams Get it, girl .
"That's awesome," Logan says finally, genuine as always.
Harper beams at me, her fingers threading through Logan's as she gives him a look that could melt steel. "Nothing better than falling for your best friend, right?" The way Logan goes soft when he looks at her makes something in my chest ache. Next to me, Tobias's fingers dance across my shoulder, a silent Yeah, I get it now , that hits me right in the feels.
Sometimes, the most dangerous thing isn't falling for the wrong person—it's falling for the right one at the right time and realizing you never stood a chance against it.
I've been watching Harper and Logan, and jealousy lodges itself in my chest. They'll have each other when we're gone. Soft touches, stolen kisses, and the luxury of just… existing together. While I'm out here about to spend months living with this ache that feels like an open wound.
We've been at the club long enough that time's gone all weird and blurry. Tobias and Logan are deep in some conversation that looks like they're solving the world's most complicated puzzle. That's the thing about Tobias—he doesn't just talk; he listens. And I mean really listens. The way his eyes change, soft then sharp, tracking every word Logan says like it's the most fascinating shit he's ever heard. It's one of the things I love most about him, the way he makes you feel like you're the only person in the room.
Little Mix's "Touch" starts pumping through the speakers, and Harper grips my arm like she's been waiting all night for this moment. "This is my song!" she squeals, practically dragging me out of the booth.
"Come dance with me," she insists, already standing. I roll my eyes, laughing, but I stand up and smooth down my skirt. As I turn to Tobias, I catch him watching me—his gaze locked on the slide of my hands down my thighs.
The hunger in his eyes isn't subtle. It's a full-body declaration, and the way it pulses through my veins is almost criminal.
"We're gonna go dance," I tell him, but I don't move right away. Instead, I lean down and press my lips to his, slow and deliberate, like I'm staking my own claim.
Harper drags me to the dance floor, and the club's heat becomes another layer of clothing pressing against me, and as we sway together, my eyes wander. They find Tobias standing to the side, his gaze burning into me.
I go feral under his stare, the way his eyes burn into me, daring me to keep dancing and push him further. He knows. He knows I'm not moving for the music anymore—I'm moving for him. Every sway of my hips, every roll of my body, is designed to drive him out of his mind.
But then I feel the unmistakable grip of his hands on my waist. My body recognizes him before my mind does, melting into his touch without a second thought.
The music pounds.
My pulse pounds harder.
Harper and Logan are devouring each other nearby, but I can't look away from the way Tobias's hands are getting bolder. His fingers trace the hem of my dress, knuckles brushing my bare thigh—a touch that's half caress, half threat.
His lips find the shell of my ear, his breath hot against my neck as he leans in. "You drive me fucking insane."
I shiver at the sound, my body arching against his as Daddy Yankee's "Gasolina" thunders around us.
Tobias's lips graze the curve of my neck. His hands tighten around me, holding me in place as our bodies move together in perfect sync. His lips trail fire across my skin, and when I tilt my head to meet his gaze, his mouth claims mine, and that's it—I'm gone.
Completely and utterly his.
The kiss is everything—desperation, need, craving. It's wild and untamed, a force that feels bigger than us, and when we finally part, there's no need for words.
We move through the crowd, dodging grinding couples and the thick haze of perfume and sweat hanging in the air. But none of it matters. The world blurs at the edges, shrinking down to the heat of his hand against my skin and the way he keeps glancing back at me. No one so much as looks our way when he pushes open the door to the ladies bathroom.
It's not exactly The Ritz, but when you're this far gone, you take what you can get. The stall door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly, it's the most romantic spot on earth because he's here, and I'm here, and nothing else matters.
Tobias moves in fast, caging me against the door. The cool metal presses into my back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body as he towers over me, closing every inch of space between us. His hands plant firmly on either side of me, his body so close I can feel every rise and fall of his chest, every ounce of his restraint hanging by a thread.
His mouth claims mine like he's starving for it, the bass from the club vibrating through the walls, mixing with the sounds of stumbling heels and drunken laughter. No one cares. No one sees. It's just us in our dark corner of the world, where inhibitions go to die.
"I need to touch you," he whispers against my lips. His fingers find bare skin, and I nearly combust from that gentle touch alone. "Always so fucking ready for me," he growls in my ear before thrusting two fingers inside me. The sudden fullness makes me rise onto my toes, my teeth sinking into my lip to stifle my moans, even though my heart is screaming.
My nails dig crescents into his shoulders, searching for something solid as he tears me apart stroke by devastating stroke. His eyes are dark fire, burning into mine from inches away, watching me break, watching me fall, knowing exactly how close I am to shattering.
"Don't you dare come."
I nod—desperate, frantic, lying—because my body's already betraying me, hips moving with a mind of their own, chasing a high he's determined to deny. His lips brush my ear, his movements slowing to pure torture, and I swear I could kill him for it.
I need more.
I need everything.
I. Need. Him. To. Move.
"I need inside you right fucking now."
My fingers fumble with his jeans like I've never unbuttoned pants before, my hands shaking with need. The second I slip inside his boxer briefs, I can't hold back the whimper that escapes me—he's rock hard, his thick cock pulsing in my grip like it has its own heartbeat.
"Fuck me," I hiss against his mouth, biting his lower lip. "Hard."
I'm suddenly facing the door, palms pressed against it, and my dress bunches around my waist.
"I'm gonna fuck this tight pussy until you're dripping with both of us," he promises, his cock teasing where I need him most. "But baby, you have to keep quiet."
Without warning, he rams into me, filling me in one brutal thrust, and the stretch is a delicious torture—pleasure so sharp it bleeds into pain, the kind that makes you forget everything except the feeling of being completely and utterly owned.
He's brutal and animalistic, each savage thrust threatening to split me in two. His fingers press bruises into my hips—tomorrow's reminders of tonight's sins—while I brace against the door. I'm still throbbing from when he fucked me with his fingers, and every stroke of his thick cock pushes me closer to the edge.
He wraps my hair around his fist and pulls my head back until my spine bows. His eyes burn into mine, feral and hungry, while he pounds into me.
The wet sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the room, mixing with our harsh breathing and guttural moans, but the booming music on the other side of the wall is our perfect cover.
My release crashes through me, and he clamps his hand over my mouth, muffling my desperate sounds. My eyes slam shut as pleasure rips through me like lightning, my pussy clenching around him, demanding everything he has to give.
With one brutal thrust, his whole body goes rigid. His jaw clenches, teeth bared, as his cock pulses deep inside me. He withdraws slightly before slamming back in, marking me from the inside out. When he finally slips free, he drops to his knees behind me, his tongue rough against my inner thighs, licking up our combined mess. He drags his tongue over my pussy, and my whole body trembles.
He spins me around and presses his mouth against mine, forcing his tongue past my lips. Our taste explodes between us, raw, filthy, and perfect.
This is how he claims me.
"Amelia…" Three words hidden in the sound of my name.
"I know." Three words returned.