Chapter 7
Maisy’s texts were coming thick and fast, one every few minutes.
HOW IS IT GOING!?!
WHAT IS SHE SAYING?!
Did you show her the Kruger print!?
DOES THE TATTOO HURT!?!?
ARE YOU IN FLAGRANTE!?!
He wanted to reply, but he didn’t want Tabby to see him texting another woman, and while the tattoo hurt, it wasn’t nearly as painful as the way he’d fucked this first meeting. What harebrained lack of foresight had provoked him to bring up the jet ski thing? Best case scenario he looked like a complete asshole. Worst case, he’d come off like a sad asshole, desperately trying to impress the hottest girl in his year level with his start-of-year stationery. Look at how many multi-colour highlighters I have!
He’d screwed up this first meeting and didn’t have the heart to tell Maisy how badly. Tabby had been tattooing in silence for almost three hours, and surely she was going to call time soon, leaving his house and resenting him more than she had when she first arrived.
As the needle burned its way across his shoulder cuff, another text from Maisy arrived.
DOGGY SAYS HELLO!
She’d sent a picture of Mopsy curled up on her silk couch, gnawing contentedly on a pig’s ear. He’d told her not to let her onto the furniture, much less feed her there, but Maisy spoiled her like a grandchild.
“Dahling, she’s me!” she exclaimed when he’d dropped the cocker spaniel at her South Yarra mansion.
“You’re not a dog,” Toby had said, handing over the cooler bag of snacks and morphine injections.
But Maisy had just laughed. “I’m an aging blonde bitch with fantastic hair who’s utterly dependent on prescription medication! This old girl and I will be best friends in no time!”
Mopsy did look happy on the silk couch. And her long golden ears did resemble Maisy’s waist-length extensions.
“I try to source hair as ethically as I can, dahling,” she’d once sighed over a mimosa. “But there’s probably a hoard of little Polish girls who want to murder me. And who can blame them?”
“What are you smiling about?”
He was so shocked Tabby had spoken, he didn’t know how to respond. “I, uh…”
The tattoo gun clicked off, and Tabby met his gaze for the first time in what felt like eons. Illuminated by lamplight, she was so beautiful it stung. He remembered the afternoons they’d walked the puppies down to the corner store to eat coconut and white chocolate Magnums and laugh until his sides hurt. Yet here she was, so unimpressed it was like he hadn’t changed at all. She seemed to resent everything about his new life. Like he’d done it to spite her, yet it was so evident that he didn’t understand how she couldn’t see it. This house, this life he’d made, was all for her. Every last piece.
I’ve been in love with you forever, Tabs. Isn’t it obvious? Can’t you tell?
“Seriously,” she said. “What are you giggling about?”
He could make something up, but what would be the point? “A picture of Mopsy. She’s with a friend of mine.”
“So, she is still alive?”
“Yeah.” He showed Tabby Maisy’s photo. “I know she’s not holding up a copy of today’s newspaper, but you can check the timestamp if you want.”
Tabby stared at the photo, her expression unreadable. “What happened to her front paws?”
Guilt swamped him, all flailing arms and dripping legs. On bad days Mopsy’s confused expression made him bawl like a fucking baby.
But I love you, Toby…her brown eyes seemed to say. I try to be a good girl. Why are you hurting me? Are you mad at me? Do you not think I’m good?
He blinked hard, forcing back tears. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Mopsy for this exact reason. Weeping in front of Tabby would be beyond embarrassing—and a massive throwback to his simp days—but again, what was he supposed to do? Lie?
“She needs four knee reconstructions. The first two are done, but she has to heal a bit more before they can do her back legs.”
“Right. And she’s not here because…?”
“She needs pain medication every few hours. Injections. I knew we’d probably be busy, so I asked a friend to watch her for the night.”
He’d been worried that Maisy would refuse to stick needles in his dog, but again, it wasn’t a problem. “I used to do my own Botox, honey,” Maisy said. “You couldn’t ask for a better nurse.”
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that when I asked where Mopsy was?”
“Because it sucks, Tabs. And it’s hard to talk about.”
Her mouth twitched down at the corners. “I… I get that.”
“You don’t. It’s because my parents bred her too much. It fucked up all her joints. When the vet first scanned her. The way her bones looked…” His voice cracked, and suddenly, he longed for the grounding pain of the tattoo needle. “Can you turn the machine back on? Keep going?”
“Dude, if you need a break...?”
“That’s the last thing I want. Stick pins in me.”
She huffed a little laugh. “Enjoying the pain?”
“‘Enjoy’ is a bit strong. But it’s not bad. It’s… it feels right.”
“Okay, Tobes.”
His heart surged at the return of his old nickname, and when the stinging sensation resumed, he found he could keep talking. “The vet said she might be better off... but fuck that. They also said she could make a full recovery, so I booked her first operation. The thing that kills me is she’s still in pain, and there’s gonna be more before it gets better. I wish I could explain it to her. Make her understand, but she looks at me with these big sad eyes… it would be easier if she were angry, snapping at me, you know? But she just looks so hurt…”
Tabby made a soft noise.
“Hey,” he said. “It’ll be okay. The doc thinks she could have another five years after this, and she’s a brave girl.”
“She is. She’s gonna be great. And you know you can have her here while we ink. I don’t mind if you have to break to give her injections. I’d love to see her.”
He smiled up at the ceiling. “Sure. Next time, she’ll be here.”
“Awesome.”
Tabby bent over her work, and he watched her, wishing he could force away all the tension between them like a gauze curtain. Just be honest and ask her if she still thought of him. If she replayed the hours they’d spent in her bed over and over when she couldn’t sleep. If she missed walking the dogs and talking about WWE and the stars and whether people were fundamentally good or evil. Not wanting to push things too fast, he decided it didn’t matter if he texted Maisy. At worst, Tabby would think he was texting someone he was sleeping with, get jealous and storm out. But at best, Tabby would think he was texting someone he was sleeping with, get jealous and finally admit she wanted him.
Things with Tabs are okay. I think she’s about to wrap up, though. Thanks for the photo.
Maisy’s response came almost instantly.
ASK HER TO STAY FOR A DRINK, YOU COWARD!!!
He glanced down at Tabby, who was still almost smiling.
Fine. But if I get shot down, I’m blaming you, he said.
Lunch with the girls at Nello tomorrow. We EXPECT you there.
Grinning, he confirmed he’d be there for bottomless wine and a dissection of how this had all gone. When he hit send, he noticed Tabby watching him, eyes narrowed. He considered telling her about Maisy, but knowing what would help or hurt him was hard.
“Look, I’m almost done,” Tabby said, bowing her head again. “I went faster than I thought. Plus, my hand’s cramping.”
“Sounds good.” He glanced at the marble bar Maisy had set up in the corner. Ask her to stay for a drink. Just do it…
Tabby turned off her machine and reached for a plastic tub of something. She opened it to reveal a greasy substance and smeared it over his tattoo. He pretended to take in the skeleton of her design, but really, he watched her hands move across his arm, those delicate fingers adorned with bumblebee tattoos. He imagined her gripping his cock, working it slowly as she knelt in front of him, her mouth open and ready to taste…
Seconds passed, and she continued to stroke the oily stuff across his muscles, up and back and in small circles. Toby didn’t know much about tattoo maintenance, but her cheeks were flushed. His cock jolted against his thigh, and he forced himself to look away, willing himself not to fuck this up. “So… you wanna stay for a drink?”
She didn’t say no, but she didn’t say anything else. She just stopped rubbing his arms and pulled out a roll of what looked like cling film.
“Second Skin,” Tabby said, stretching it over his tattoo. “It’ll hold still like a sticker. You can shower and stuff with it on, but don’t scrub it and don’t pick at it.”
“Sure.”
She collected a pair of scissors and cut the Second Skin away from the roll. It was lighter than he thought. Barely perceptible. The faint stinging in his arm was nothing compared to the ache working its way through his chest and groin. He was hard now, his cock straining at his chinos like it was trying to reach Tabby of its own accord. Once, he would have died of embarrassment, but that flush was still in Tabby’s cheeks, her eyes flicking from his chest to his mouth, then away again. The heat inside him intensified, and he remembered the way she’d ridden him in her bed, her teeth worrying at her lower lip as she moaned his name…
Tabby stepped back, still scanning his chest and abs. “So, we’re done.”
He sat up on the massage table, shaking out his stiff shoulders. “Thanks. I’ve got tequila, by the way.”
Her gaze fell to the seat of his pants. “And a hard-on.”
If he needed more proof that he’d changed, it was being able to grin at her and say, “Can you blame me?”
Tabby’s cheeks went even darker. “You’re into needles, aren’t you?”
This was it. The fucking moment. He sat back and let her look at his shirtless body. “I’m into you.”
She glanced toward the ocean through the windows. “Coulda fooled me.”
He stared at her, confused. Did she think he wasn’t attracted to her? Cool, bombastic Tabby DaSilva? Everyone’s girl crush? “I’m asking you to stay and drink with me, aren’t I?”
She gripped the sleeves of her dress shirt and shoved them over her thumbs. “You sure that’s not just an excuse to show off your perfect little life?”
“It’s because I want to have a drink with you. Look, I’ll prove it.” He left the table and walked to the bar, collecting the bottle of white 1806 he’d bought with her in mind. He grabbed two tumblers and poured a finger of tequila into each—not wanting to give the impression he was trying to get her drunk. He felt her watching him. His back. His ass. His cock was still hard as stone, clamouring for more, faster, now. He ignored it, holding out a glass to Tabby. “Yours if you want it.”
She hesitated, then moved to take it.
His chest roaring with victory, he sat on a corner of his couch and drank. The liquor was mellow and reminded him painfully of those 24 hours, two years ago, when he and Tabby drank 1806 between bouts of fucking. The best day of his life with the girl of his dreams. It felt like a decade ago…
He watched Tabby take a tiny sip, her indigo gaze a million miles away. How hurt had she been when he told her they couldn’t hang out anymore? He’d thought it was maybe a blow to her ego, and she was a little jealous he’d been with other girls, not that there was actual bad blood between them. Before they’d slept together, she seemed to forget about him as soon as he wasn’t in her eyeline. And even after they’d slept together—when they’d been lying in bed, naked and covered in each other’s body fluids, she’d talked about going to a gig with another one of her stupid ex-boyfriends and said, casual as anything, “You should come too! It’ll be fun!’
He had never, in a million years, thought that girl would get pissed at him for leaving. He wasn’t important enough. He’d left to become important enough. How could she not see that? How was it not obvious?
The liquor working its way into his system gave him a rush of courage. “I went away because I needed to sort some things out, Tabs. Not because I wasn’t interested in you.”
She looked supremely unimpressed. “Whatever.”
“I think about you all the fucking time, you know.”
She gave a mock curtsey, but a small smile curved her mouth. She drank almost all of her tequila in one sitting, and when she lowered her gaze, it fell on his still-shirtless body.
“Checking me out, Tabitha?”
“No.”
“I don’t mind. Makes the effort worth it.”
Tabby snorted, but her gaze stayed on his abs. Biting back a grin, Toby stood and headed back to the bar. Grabbing the 1806, he poured himself another shot before holding out the bottle. “Want more?”
Her tongue traced her perfect lips. “Fine.”
She extended her glass, and he topped it up. He caught a whiff of her perfume, hot and peppery, and the scent made his cock throb.
Easy, boy.
Toby moved back to the couch, bringing the bottle with him. “You gonna tell me why you need money?”
Tabby took a generous swig of her drink. “I’m leaving.”
His insides clenched. He’d suspected something like that, but still… “Leaving? Like, leaving Melbourne?”
“Yup. I’m hitting the bricks.”
“Why?”
“It’s just time.” She wandered toward the window. “And before you ask, I’m not telling you where I’m headed, Richie Bitch.”
Yet, she’d already confessed what her plans were. Toby drank to cover his smile. “Your sisters know?”
“Yup.”
“No, they don’t.”
“They do!”
When he continued to look sceptically at her, she added. “All right, they don’t. God, how do you even know that?”
“Because if Sam and Nix knew you were leaving, you’d be doing overtime in the studio, not back alley tattoos at exorbitant prices.”
Tabby rolled her eyes. “How do I keep forgetting you’re good at this stuff?”
“Remembering how your mind works?”
“Yes,” she said accusingly. “Everyone else forgets things like normal people. It’s fabulous.”
“Maybe I like paying attention to you?”
He looked her up and down. Her shirt dress was baggy and stained, but not even a potato sack could have hidden those curves. He wondered what kind of underwear she had on. A thong, maybe. Or those boy shorts he saw in her bedroom that went halfway up her big round ass….
“You’re staring,” Tabby said, but not like she wanted him to stop.
“Hard not to.”
She rolled her eyes, but a little smile continued to play at the corners of her lips. “So you’re like… smooth now or something?”
This was the moment Maisy and all his previous hookups had prepared him for. Heart racing, he drew his metaphorical bow. “Why don’t you come here and find out?”
They stared at each other, the possibilities hot and bright, and for a second, he thought it was a done deal. Then she looked away, smirking. “I don’t think so, Toblerone.”
That wasn’t a no.
The atmosphere between them charged like an electrical storm. He wanted to ask if she remembered the way they’d fucked like animals on acid. Bruises and sweat. Scratches and saliva.
Easy, boy, relax.
“So, you’ve decided to run away?” he said, dropping the subject for now.
“It’s an underrated lifestyle choice. One minute, you have problems; the next minute, they’re no longer relevant.”
“That’s… one way of looking at it.”
“You ran away. From Scott and your old job and your old life.”
“I like to think of it as growing.”
“Me too, then. That’s what I’ll do: grow.”
He didn’t say anything. He had a feeling she’d keep talking if he stayed quiet, and sure enough, “I only came back to Melbourne to help Sam when the business was down the toilet. Now it’s fine. No one needs me here.”
He heard the pain in her voice, but what was he supposed to say? I need you. I’ve needed you for so long it hurts. Stay with me?
“It’s better to show not tell,”Maisy had told him a hundred or so times. If he could show Tabby everything she had waiting for her here, she might come around.
“Well, good luck,” he said. “Glad I could fund your escape.”
She put a hand to her chest in a mock swoon. “Why thank you, Mr Tennant, sir.”
The breathiness in her voice took all the irony out of the sarcasm.
“Anytime, baby girl.” He scanned her body once again. Her long legs, the swell of her perfect tits. She looked so fucking good. Like a sexy doll. He wanted to tie her to his bed and keep her there. Fuck her every hour on the hour for a year.
“Not gonna happen, shitbag.” The tequila had both softened and sharpened Tabby. She looked interested but her words had gotten meaner.
He grinned. “Why not?”
She squinted at him. “You serious?”
“As the grave. Not like we haven’t. And you seemed to like it at the time.”
Tabby sipped more alcohol, the colour in her cheeks so strong he could have seen it from space. He waited for what she’d say next. What sounded like thrash metal was playing through her speakers, setting an aggressive tone. He pictured Tabby on her back, her dress pulled up and her thighs wide as the real-life Tabby stood, tumbler in hand, eyeing him like a fox in the woods. Ready to flee.
“You never told anyone about us, did you?” she said. “Not Scott or Noah or any of your crypto-bros?”
“That would have been ungentlemanly.”
“Maybe I’m just not worth bragging to the boys about?”
Toby frowned. There it was again, the insecurity he wasn’t quite sure was sincere. “You want me to get on the podcast and tell anyone who wants to listen how good of a fuck you are? I’ll make it happen tomorrow. Tonight even.”
Tabby’s gaze darkened, her pupils expanding outward. “Flattering, but I think I’ll take a raincheck.”
“Whatever you want, Tabitha.”
His voice was getting deeper, closer to the pitch he used when he was inside some girl who wasn’t Tabby. His muscles tensed, wanting to move closer, but he stayed where he was. “You seeing anyone right now?”
“Would you care if I was?”
Jealousy blazed through him at the thought of Tabby entertaining another mouth-breathing cunt of a boyfriend. He kept quiet, wondering what would be worse: Her being taken or pretending to be that way so he wouldn’t hit on her.
When Tabby spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. “You wouldn’t care. You’d hook up with me anyway, wouldn’t you?”
Their eyes met, and several wires connected in Toby’s brain. Her language implied she didn’t actually have a boyfriend, but unless he was as mistaken as a man could be, the thought turned her on. The idea of him cuckolding the useless assholes who’d wasted her time before now. He pictured himself pounding into her from behind, her big tits swaying as she panted into her phone, Sorry, baby, I can’t make it... No, I’m out with the girls…
He thought he’d been feeling heat before, but this was a fucking inferno. His blood turned to fire, his cock swelling to the point of pain. He liked topping. Liked being in charge, and while he only wanted Tabby for himself, if she wanted him to play the amoral asshole, he could do that, too.
He poured himself more tequila and then rested the bottle on the carpet. “If I had five minutes left on earth, I’d still use it to try and fuck you.”
She touched a hand to her mouth. “And… if I had a boyfriend?”
Was it the Village Belle that made her think of him this way? Or had this always been a kink of hers? It didn’t really matter. He”d always loved wrestling, so he could play the heel, the fuckboy, and sensed that was what she wanted. A way to flirt while keeping some distance between the people they’d once been.
He painted the biggest asshole smile he had all over his face. “I don’t care if you’ve got a fucking husband. I’ll fuck you on this couch and send you home to him with my bruises on your ass and my cum dripping out of you.”
A beat longer than any second on earth, as Tabby’s fingers gripped her tumbler like she was hanging on for dear life.
“Does that turn you on?” he said, his voice like gravel. “Ruining some dumb fuck’s life because you’ve got an itch he can’t scratch?”
Tabby quivered like a leaf in the wind. “I… Let’s say it does. I don’t… Would you really…?”
“I think we’ve established I would.” He drained his glass, placed it beside the bottle, and sat back on his couch with his arms spread. “Come here and kiss me. Find out.”
She shook her head, her blue-brown hair flying around her shoulders. “You’d have to pay a lot more than thirteen grand for that?—”
“How much?”
She froze. “Huh?”
His blood was moving fast and thin as boiled water. She wanted a cunt? He’d bring the whole party. “How much? You need money. I’ve got money. What’ll it take to get you to sit on my lap and kiss me?”
She laughed, but not like she thought it was a joke. Like she was dangerously close to something she was terrified of wanting. “I’m not a professional sex haver, Toby. I don’t have sex for cash.”
“But you’ll tattoo for it. And you’ll tattoo me for it, even though you think I’m a prick. So, you’re halfway there already. How much?”
Her gaze flicked over him. “You think you’re such hot shit.”
“Yeah, and it fucking turns you on. So come here, and I’ll add another two hundred to the bag. Come cheat on some dumb fuck with me.”
Another agonising beat as Tabby’s mouth twisted. He could almost taste the contradictions coming off her. She wanted him. She was mad at him. She wanted an asshole. She was pissed about wanting an asshole. Some of the heat in his body cooled. She was torn, and no matter how horny he was, there was no way he could push this kind of thing any further without explicit consent.
He got to his feet, his dick shoving his chinos forward like a rudder. “I don’t wanna be a dick, you can stay and finish your drink, but we’re done.”
Tabby looked like he’d slapped her. “What?”
“You’re not interested, and I’m not interested when you’re not interested. So we’re done.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and walked toward her bag. “Fine. I’m leaving.”
She drained her tequila and put the tumbler on the massage table, collecting her tattoo machine and balling up the protective wrap on the chair. When she was done packing her things, she headed for the stairs, her bag on her shoulder.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
“Whatever, Toby.”
They made it halfway down the stairs—Toby’s dick throbbing with every step—when she spoke. “I can’t believe you offered me money to fuck you.”
He could tell her that wasn’t what he’d done, but the longing in her voice was still there.
“How are you offended?” he said over his shoulder. “You said you wanted a sugar daddy.”
“I… not… whatever. You’re, like, the opposite of a daddy.”
“Not what I’ve been told.”
Tabby’s mouth puckered. “Why? You been siring bastards up and down the eastern suburbs?”
He could feel her walls going up and over, shutting her behind an impenetrable shield of irony. They reached the bottom of his second staircase, and he became sure that if he let Tabby leave without saying his piece, she’d come back stony-faced to finish his tattoo, and everything that was possible between them would vanish. He knew her. Knew the way she thought. He decided to lay it out. “I don’t want to back you into anything you don’t want to do,” he said, stepping into the hallway and facing her. “But it’s hot, the thought of paying you to be my little fuckdoll.”
Tabby pulled her bag closer to her side. “I… what are you suggesting?”
“Another deal off the back of one we already have. How does seven hundred bucks an hour sound?”
“I… what?”
“You don’t have to fuck me. I’ll be paying you for your time. And if you decide to spend that time running down a long list of things I wanna do to your body, so be it.”
He stepped toward her, and his cock pulsed at the thought of picking her up and pressing her against the wall, shoving up her dress and pushing into her hot, tight, little?—
“Why?” Tabby demanded.
“Because I want you. And I think it’s hot.”
“Lording it over me with cash?”
“Yup.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she muttered, still not shooting him down. He raised his eyebrows.
“Seven hundred bucks?” she repeated. “For one hour?”
“Seems like the right amount for a high-class woman of taste. And I want to pick out your clothes. Buy them.”
“Why?”
“Call it a kink. Interested?”
She shot him a look of pure venom. “Fine. Next time I show up here in your chosen outfit, you give me seven hundred in cash. And if I don’t want to do anything except go on my phone, you can’t stop me.”
“Sure.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
She could, but he knew better than anyone that money changed things. This was why companies gave politicians donations and sent influencers baskets of free shit. It shouldn’t change their opinions, but it did. And Tabby was brilliant; maybe she already knew that. Maybe she was trying to find a way back into his bed that didn’t feel like a moral compromise.
“We have a deal?” he asked.
Tabby nodded, her lower lip jutting. Toby wanted to suck it into his mouth, bite it while he rode her pussy. She squeaked when she got close to coming, made cute little noises while her cunt clamped around him like a vice. They were closer now, their heads bending together, her nipples inches from his chest. He wanted to kiss her like he wanted to keep breathing, but he kept his head level. “You want something? Right now?”
“I want to kick you in the teeth? Does that work?”
“No thanks. You said something about leaving?”
“You’re the one who wanted me to leave, sir.” She said it in the snottiest fucking voice, but that didn’t matter. The word slid through him like a razor blade. Before he could question it, his hand was at her throat, holding fast. “What was that?”
Tabby’s eyes were wide, her lips flushed and parted. “Nothing.”
He tightened his grip and felt her pulse going wild against his palm. “You sure?”
She shook her head, and he saw the glow of the challenge burning in them. She liked the tussle. Liked being denied. This was why he’d gone. Why he’d made himself someone she’d want to tussle with.
“Tabitha,” he said slowly. “Either admit you want a fuck and come upstairs and sit on my dick or get the hell out of my house.”
She gasped, her bag strap sliding off her shoulder, the whole thing hitting the floor. “You’re such a cunt!”
“Yeah, and that’s got you soaking, hasn’t it? So, what’ll it be?”
The kiss was as unexpected as their first. Hot and hard. Tabby’s teeth latched to his lower lip, biting deep enough to make him bleed. He took it gladly and did what he’d imagined moments ago, picking her up and slamming her back into his wall with enough force to make the whole thing shake. Somewhere, further along, a painting fell.
Fuck it, he thought, wrapping Tabby’s legs around his ass. I’ll get a new one.
He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent like it was drugs. It had been so long. Too long. He needed everything she had to give, more. As she ground against his hips, her fingers sank into his hair.
“Fine,” she gasped. “Fucking fine!”
Toby could hardly think. “Fine, what?”
“Fine, we can do this. Give me one. I don’t care.”
The words took a second to sink in, but when they did, he could have killed something. He could ‘give her one?’ Stick his cock in her like a dildo with a guy attached. Because she didn’t care?
“Fuck this,” he muttered, wrenching them both away from the wall. “We’re done.”
“What?” Tabby panted, locking her legs around him. “No! Why are you stopping?”
“Oh, you want me to keep going, huh? That’s what you want?”
“Yes! What’s happening? What did I say?”
Toby felt his lips curl into a snarl. “You acted like you were doing me a damn favour. You’re the one panting for a fuck, Tabitha. Act like it.”
“And how do I do that?”
He gestured to the ground beside them.
“You want me to stand there?”
“I want you to kneel there.”
She stared at him, challenge and hesitation boiling together, then shook her head. “You’re crackers.”
“Fine.” He put her on her feet in front of him. “Believe whatever you need to, Tabitha.”
“Stop saying my name like that!”
“No. Admit you came over wanting me to make a move on you, and I’ll take you upstairs and give you what you want.”
“How about you stop being so insecure? Wanting me to kneel like you’re some god-king?—”
“You.Love. It,” he shouted. “We both know you love it. There’s nothing you like more than getting it rough.”
“I don’t?—”
“You do. I remember. I remember everything. It got you soaking wet. Me holding you down and railing you?”
“I don’t… that was different.”
“Yeah, because you had the reins. But here’s the news, sweetness. Times have fucking changed. We’re doing this my way or not at all.”
“Fuck this. A guy in a bar down the street asked for my number tonight. I’m gonna go back there and ride him like it’s my job.”
Anger surged through him like poison. “Fuck off you are.”
“And what are you gonna do about it, you unworkable dild?—”
He was on her in seconds, hauling her up and putting her right back on her wall, and if he had any doubts, Tabby’s frantic kiss put them to rest. She wanted him. He reached between her legs and shoved his hand into her underwear. The feel of her wet folds had him grunting into her mouth. She was beyond ready. He slid two fingers inside her and curled them upward.
Tabby wrenched her mouth from his. “Oh my God…”
“That’s right.” Toby pumped fast, his dick pulsing like he was already inside her. He was back where he belonged. And he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Tabby’s pussy clenched around him like it had when she came on his dick. Fingerfucking her even harder, he pressed his lips to her ear. “Tell me to stop, Tabitha. Tell me you don’t want it.”
She shook her head and moaned in ecstasy. He reburied his face into her neck, and the silk of her hair merged with the wetness of her cunt to make the animal in him rise, scaring him with its intensity. He sank his teeth into her skin and worked a third finger inside her, sure she’d scream and beg him to stop. Instead, she gripped his shoulder, digging her nails so deep he hissed like a snake.
“Keep going,” she gasped. “More?”
Adrenaline shot through him as he pumped hard enough to bruise, and she squealed high and sharp as she soaked him to the wrist.
“You come?” he grunted.
“Yes! God, yes!”
He slowed his movements as she continued to flutter around him, eventually slipping his hand away and wiping it on his chinos. Anger had him both lightheaded and weighty. Off-kilter.
“Fuck yes,” Tabby breathed. “God, it’s been so long.”
Toby grimaced. What she’d done to push him to his limits before he went hulk on her was utterly fucked. He needed time and space to think about this. Time and space he wouldn’t get if Tabby succeeded in unbuttoning his pants as she seemed to be trying to do. Hauling her into a fireman lift, he collected her bag and headed for the final staircase, his cock and head and heart aching.
Tabby appeared to be unaware he was carrying her to the front door. Her eyes were closed again, her lips working against nothing.
“Toby. That was…”
“Better than anything you’ve ever had before. I know. You good to stand?”
Her eyes flew open. “What the hell, dickcheese?”
“I’ll take that as ‘yes.’” He deposited her beside the door. “Call me if you need a cab, but you’ve got five grand in your bag, so you should be fine.”
Tabby gaped at him. “Are you seriously doing this? You’re not gonna?—”
“What? Take you upstairs? Give you everything you want when you can’t even admit you want it? No, I’m not.” Toby pointed at his door. “Go ask your bar boyfriend to do that to you. And when it can’t hold a fucking candle to me, come back and beg me to do it properly.”
He turned and headed for the stairs, so angry he could hardly think. No one else did this to him. Pushed him this hard. Made everything hurt. He raised a hand to his shoulder and touched where she’d scratched him. His fingers came away red. She’d made him bleed. As pissed off as he was, the evidence of how volatile Tabby DaSilva could be when she needed dick made him smile. This still wasn’t over. She’d be back, and he’d be ready.