Chapter Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
Grier’s mouth hung agape, her groin pulsed—hollow and wanting.
Tobin had just opened the door to her en-suite bathroom, giving Grier the first view of her since leaving her on the bed with that cocky twitch of swollen lips, instructing her to stay put.
Grier could feel Tobin’s gaze as she slowly trailed hers upward— from those long, bare legs to the silver captain’s shirt she’d left unbuttoned, billowing around her gorgeous, inked torso.
Her hair had been released, cascading in deep mahogany waves over her shoulders and brushing the tops of her perfect breasts, which swelled above the seams of her plum-colored satin bra.
The matching boy shorts hugged her hips as if tailored for sin.
Her captain’s hat sat cocked seductively atop her head.
And that fucking tie… loosely knotted, hanging provocatively between her breasts—Grier simmered at the sight, inwardly undone.
Tobin leaned confidently against the doorframe, utterly unbothered and patient, letting Grier take all the time she needed to
commit the vision to memory.
She was grateful for Tobin’s confident patience—because she was quite literally carving this image into the back of her eyelids, committing it to memory.
Grier raked her eyes over Tobin’s form, her desire surging with every centimeter of flawless skin revealed.
She fought the urge to rise and go to her—to take her there, against the wall.
She wanted to feel the burn in her calves as she fucked the taller woman, pinning her in place.
She wanted to feel the weight of Tobin, heaving against her, as she held her up through cascades of orgasm, her fingers pumping deep inside.
She wanted to drop to her knees before her. To feel Tobin’s hands rein in her hair, holding her in place over her swollen clit. She wanted to break her with her tongue—reclaim the word—and gift Tobin power in her own surrender.
She wanted to taste Tobin.
She doubted Tobin was ready for that. Tobin had opened herself to Grier—more with each return to the bedroom—but Grier could feel her holding back, still barricading parts of herself.
She wasn’t certain if it was deliberate or subconscious, but she knew it instinctively.
She could sense the hesitation in fleeting pauses or subtle retreats whenever she touched her.
Grier was content to let Tobin guide them at a pace that felt safe, but she was eager for the moment Tobin would finally give herself over—completely— catapulting their sexual power without restraint.
“I’m definitely going to have to be the highest bidder,” Grier teased. “I’m not comfortable with anyone else getting this view.”
“Oh, Cinderella, Tobin purred. “This view is not for auction. Only for your eyes.” She winked, then rolled back against the doorframe, letting Grier drink her in from every angle.
Grier felt the flush of arousal build. Her nipples peaked against her bra, sending heat coursing across her chest and neck.
She began unbuttoning her shirt, licking her lips to draw Tobin’s gaze—biting her lower lip as she reached a hand inside her bra to cup herself.
She gave her nipple a slow, deliberate squeeze, exaggerating the motion for Tobin’s benefit.
Her heart skipped a beat when Tobin’s eyes darkened, acknowledging her challenge.
“Is this view for my eyes only, or am I allowed to involve other senses?” Grier asked, using her free hand to unbutton the remainder of her shirt while continuing to fondle her breast. She knew she was pressing Tobin, but she could feel the energy between them and hoped she was reading her correctly.
Tobin was exuding some heavy top energy—but something in her posture, a flicker of hesitation, suggested she was wrestling with something else. Something… untamed.
Grier loved the give-and-take of seducing Tobin.
It had always been this way—one initiating, the other rising to meet the challenge.
Even the day they met, their attraction had been instant.
And while Grier had always been bolder, she’d felt Tobin receive and return her flirtations with equal intensity.
Letting Tobin set their pace was both fulfilling and illuminating; Grier learned something new about her—her body, her pleasure— every time they came together.
But Tobin had yet to invite Grier to taste her.
And the want of it was driving her absolutely mad with desire.
Tobin had effectuated every bit of her cliterati sobriquet, guiding Grier to levels of ecstasy she’d never reached with previous lovers.
She was as skilled with her tongue as Grier was with her fingers.
Whenever Tobin traveled her tongue down Grier’s body and settled between her legs, Grier’s mind melted into nothingness— incapable of comprehending anything beyond the rush of pleasure pulsing through her clit, throbbing and full.
It took her longer and longer to recover from her orgasms, her brain unwilling to return to consciousness, craving to remain lost in the physicality of her pleasure. It was euphoric.
And Grier wanted desperately to bring Tobin that same kind of euphoria.
She wanted Tobin to relax beneath her lips, to smell and feel and hear and taste her in that most intimate way.
She wanted to feel Tobin’s thighs tighten around her, quivering through her pleasure.
And she wanted to make Tobin forget—forget her fears, her insecurities—until her mind melted into a series of yeses and Grier’s name, the only words she could form while heat coursed through her veins.
So she’d challenge Tobin’s line.
But she absolutely would not push it.
And if Tobin was going to stand in front of her in that outfit—a fucking fantasy incarnate—and insist it was for her eyes only, well… Grier was going to take her literally and act on herself. If Tobin wanted that to change, then she could up the ante.
Grier watched the muscles in Tobin’s jaw tremble as she caressed herself.
She saw her clench her hands into fists, only to unclench them and trace long, slow lines from her hips to her ribs.
Her fingers caught the edges of her shirt, revealing more—and then less—skin with each unpredictable movement, while her other hand grazed across the front of her bra.
Grier watched Tobin’s breasts tighten at her own touch, rising as they came alive.
She could feel the energy in the room shift—thickening, charging—turning carnal as Tobin met her challenge and called her on it.
“What senses are you thinking?” Tobin asked, her voice lascivious, eyes fluttering closed as she indulged in the sensation of her own her body.
Grier’s heart thrummed in her chest. Watching Tobin touch herself—knowing Tobin knew exactly what it was doing to both of them—was a heady, intoxicating experience. Their arousal always seemed to rise in tandem, perfectly matched, regardless of who was giving or receiving.
She had never felt so intimately connected to someone before. “Touch,” she rasped, aching to feel Tobin beneath her fingertips.
Tobin’s eyes remained closed, her grin curling with quiet satisfaction as her fingers continued their lazy, teasing exploration. She knew exactly what affect she was having—and she was savoring it.
Then Tobin turned her head and opened her eyes, instantly finding Grier’s. The hooded, hungry expression that met her made Grier cross her legs on the bed, trying to find friction while her center throbbed in wait.
“Show me where you want to touch me, Grier,” Tobin said, her voice low and commanding.
Tobin’s eyes widened, watching Grier’s every movement with ravenous curiosity. Grier felt like she could dive into the dark pools of those inky irises—if only she got close enough.
She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly parched.
Tobin’s unpredicted shift into top energy was new between them, and every cell in Grier’s body wanted it to continue.
She’d played various roles with previous lovers, never too concerned with dominance or submission.
With Tobin, she’d taken more control than usual—and that power had thrilled her.
But fuck, if she didn’t want Tobin to take control now.
She shimmied the shoulders of her shirt down and let it fall to her waist, Tobin’s eyes never leaving hers. Grier could feel their heat searing into her skin. She wanted Tobin to see the effect she had on her.
She unclasped her bra and let it slide down her arms, exposing her breasts, her nipples already stiff with need.
She trailed her fingers along her collarbone, down her sternum, circling the full curves of her breasts before cupping them both in her palms. She squeezed— hard enough for pleasure to spike and bite—knowing she’d leave handprints when she let go.
Tobin’s eyes gleamed through the low light, her breath uneven as she mirrored Grier’s movements—fingertips skating across her collarbone, gliding down her sternum, and slipping behind her back to unhook her bra. She stepped just far enough from the wall for her shirt and bra to fall to the floor.
Then, like Grier, she cupped her breasts—except she let her nipples slip between her fingers, pinching gently.
When she squeezed, Grier felt her own center clench in perfect sync with Tobin’s grip.
Her nipples engorged between her fingers, aching, and when Tobin moaned, Grier felt every drop of arousal pool in her core.
“Where else, Grier? Where do you want to touch me?” Tobin’s voice was low and rough with desire.
Grier loved hearing her like that—uninhibited, unguarded, lost in pleasure.
She rose to her knees on the bed, running her thumb along the waistband of her khaki shorts. Her own touch wasn’t especially sensitive there, but the look in Tobin’s eyes sparked a burn low in her center. She knew that if she slipped a hand beneath her underwear, her fingers would come out soaked.