24. Asha
Asha
Tobin’s eyes darken with wicked approval, and that alone almost does me in.
He kisses me again, harder this time, one hand still at my neck, the other sliding down to grip my hip and hold me exactly where he wants me.
I drag him closer by his shirt and open for him, taking what he gives and demanding more with every filthy press of my mouth against his.
He is infuriatingly controlled even now.
I can feel it in the way he moves, precise and deliberate, like he’s running an experiment and I’m the result he intends to ruin properly.
My body lights up under his touch.
It’s pathetic.
It’s glorious.
His thigh pushes between mine, and I exhale sharply against his mouth as heat spikes low in my belly.
I catch his lower lip between my teeth and bite hard. He makes a low sound that goes straight through me, then presses his forehead to mine for one brief second, breathing hard.
In the next second, I’m naked, stripped of my clothes, and I shiver as the cold reaches my skin.
His mouth drops to my throat, then lower, his hands moving over bare skin with maddening certainty. He’s too good at this. Too confident. Too fucking calm while I’m standing here stripped open by nothing more than his attention and a few sharp breaths.
“Don’t make me wait,” I pant as his fingers slide over my clit. “Ah, Tobin…”
He pinches me and twists once before releasing my clit and thrusting his fingers deep inside. “So wet,” he whispers. “I knew you would be.”
A shock runs through me so hard my knees nearly give.
His silver eyes lock on my face. “You like it rough when you’re this worked up.”
“Stop talking then and give it to me.”
He pumps his fingers again, deep, steady, ruthless, while his thumb circles back to my clit with the kind of focus that should be illegal.
My head knocks lightly against the shelf behind me. Crystals rattle. I don’t care. I’m too busy trying not to come apart in under a minute like some desperate wench. My fingers tighten in his shirt instead.
“Spread your legs wider.”
I obey him because it serves my purpose.
His mouth curves. “Good girl.”
I ignore him and ride the climax that lasers through me.
The pleasure hits fast and vicious, tearing a hard cry out of me before I can stop it.
My body jerks against his hand. My thighs tighten around his wrist. I come with my mouth open against the air between us, impressed at how easily he does this to me and too gone to care for more than a second.
Tobin enjoys every part of it.
That does something filthy to me all over again.
He keeps his fingers moving through the aftershocks, pulling another broken sound from my throat.
“More.” I get his belt open and drag the zip down with less patience than finesse. He hisses out a breath when I wrap my fingers around his cock. Hard. Hot. Thick enough to make my pulse jump despite everything.
He catches my wrist before I can stroke more than once and pins my hand against his stomach.
“Greedy,” he says, voice rougher now.
“Look who’s talking.”
I push harder anyway, and that calm control of his slips another fraction. It’s gorgeous. I want all of it. I want him wrecked and breathless and no longer pretending he’s above this.
His mouth crashes into mine again as he takes himself in hand and he lifts me. Just like that. One second, I’m on my feet, the next I’m hauled up against him with my back to the shelves and my legs around his waist.
His fingers dig into my thigh, holding me open as he teases my clit with the head of his cock. I jerk and bite back a curse that fails anyway when he does it again, slower this time, deliberate enough to make me want to claw his face.
“Tobin.”
He chuckles darkly and then thrusts. Forceful. Deep.
Pleasure slices through me so hard I lose the ability to think for a second.
“Fuck,” I gasp as he fills me in one brutal stroke.
He holds me there, buried deep, forcing me to feel every inch of him with my pussy stretched around his cock. My head falls back against the shelf. I’m already shaking. It’s obscene. One thrust and I’m halfway gone again.
He drives into me, keeping me pinned exactly where he wants me, one hand under my arse, the other gripping the back of my neck as he kisses me between thrusts. Every movement is exact. Every stroke lands where it needs to. He fucks me like he studied me first.
It’s deeply offensive and also the hottest thing anyone’s done to me since Hale ripped my clothes off to rail me.
I claw at his shirt, trying to drag him even closer, but he’s already giving me everything I want.
His grip holds me steady. Every hard thrust knocks another ragged breath out of me, and the room narrows to the heat between us, the scrape of my nails through his shirt, the quiet loss of control in his face that I have been trying to get out of him since the moment he opened that clever mouth.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my lips, voice rough and dark now. “Take it.”
“Yes.”
His eyes flash pleased and dangerous. He kisses me again, filthy and possessive, then drives deeper, and I break on a gasp that I don’t even try to smother. My pussy clenches around him. Pleasure hits hard and bright, leaving me trembling in his hold.
This time, his control slips properly.
He swears under his breath and buries his face against my neck for one sharp second, thrusting through my climax with a ruthlessness that says he intends to take me apart in layers. I run my hand down his chest, desperate to touch more of him, to feel every crack in that polished restraint.
I gasp and clutch at him as he gives me exactly what I asked for, hard and relentless, every thrust driving me further into that brutal, gorgeous edge where pleasure turns almost vicious.
The shelf behind me rattles again. Something ceramic drops and shatters on the floor. I don’t care in the slightest.
Tobin’s mouth finds mine, then my jaw, then the side of my throat. He kisses with his intent stripped raw.
“So hot,” he rasps. “So fucking wet, Asha.”
“Don’t say my name,” I growl. “Not that one. Not right now.”
He stops for a second, gaze boring into mine, but then he pulls out and slams back in, accepting it. His hand tightens at the back of my neck, not enough to hurt, enough to own the moment, and then he sets a punishing pace that drags a cry out of me anyway.
If I have to be trapped in this pathetic realm, I may as well make use of its better features.
I squeeze him tighter and roll my hips to meet every thrust, taking him deeper, harder, chasing that brutal thrust of his cock into me until my thoughts start to fray. His eyes lock onto mine as he fucks me, silver eyes sharp and intent, like he wants to memorise exactly how I fall apart for him.
He thrusts so deep I jerk against him with a filthy sound. “You’re dripping all over me.”
I kiss him hard enough to shut him up and feel the answer in the way he slams me back into the shelf hard enough to rattle every dusty thing stacked on it. “Lose that control,” I murmur. “Let me see you shatter.”
His eyes darken, and he drives into me harder. My pussy clamps down on him, and he groans, pounding into me.
“That’s it,” I pant. “Harder.”
He gives it to me, and then he stiffens as he unloads, hard, deep and with a groan that echoes around the room.
I hold his stare and enjoy the wreckage of that last sound far too much.
“Better?” he asks.
“You’re asking me? You were the one who dragged me in here.”
He chuckles and pulls his cock out. My feet land lightly on the floor, and he clothes me again with a snap of his fingers and fixes his belt, completely unruffled apart from the flush still high on his cheekbones, which I find deeply unfair.
I’ve just made him come apart against a storage shelf, and he still looks like he could walk into a lecture and win an academic prize.
“I did warn you what happens after the kiss,” he says.
“You performed adequately.”
His hand catches my wrist. “Adequately.”
“You’re lucky I’m generous.”
He lifts my knuckles to his mouth and presses a brief kiss there. The intimacy of it hits hard. “You’re lucky I’m obsessed.”
That lands in the dangerous part of me. I narrow my eyes. “Careful.”
“With what?”
“With saying things that sound like they matter.”
His silver eyes hold mine. “They do matter.”
I pull my hand free at once because that is not a conversation I’m having while my legs still feel weak. “Disgusting. Say something filthy instead.”
A low laugh leaves him. “You were phenomenal.”
“Much better.”
A noise drifts up from outside, and he narrows his eyes. “Fight,” he says and grips my hand, scooping my book bag up as he hurries us out of the room and towards the stairs.