Chapter Twenty-Three #5
What in the hell was happening? LoLo was decidedly including Grier in tasks she never delegated to anyone.
Tobin had to literally fight her for counter space to cook alongside her—even after all these years.
The only times Tobin was invited into LoLo’s space were during pre-orchestrated lessons. Otherwise, it was LoLo’s kitchen.
And here Grier was, just sidling up to the countertop and kneading dough, changing LoLo’s approach like it was just an ordinary day in the lives of the Maeses.
Something was up. And Tobin was going to get to the bottom
of it.
After she got under Grier.
She’d deal with LoLo later. Because, priorities.
Grier wrapped the two equal balls of dough in plastic wrap and
placed them in the fridge, while Tobin monitored her every move.
When Grier washed her hands and set the dish towel on the edge of the sink, Tobin was at her side in an instant, grabbing her hand and rushing her out the porch door.
She vaguely muttered something to the others about wanting to show Grier something outside.
As soon as their feet hit the grass, Tobin increased their pace. Grier giggled next to her, electrifying her blood and hastening her need.
“Where are we going?” Grier asked, her voice vibrant and conspiratorial.
“Somewhere I hope is private enough,” Tobin responded, stealing a glance at Grier—only to have her feet stop beneath her, without consulting her brain.
In an instant, her lips crashed into Grier’s, swallowing her gasps of surprise.
One hand tangled in Grier’s hair, holding her face against hers; the other slipped low around her waist, fingers teasing beneath the waistband of her navy shorts, teasing the top of her ass.
Grier bucked into her, aligning their centers in a rush of heat and need.
“Enough?” Grier asked against her mouth, a modicum of concern now mixed with the conspiratorial edge.
Tobin broke their kiss. Grier sighed in frustration at the loss of contact.
“I hope it’s enough,” she repeated wistfully, before the carnality claimed her, pounding in her ears and persistently throbbing between her thighs.
Grabbing Grier’s hand, she took off again, “Come on—we need to finish this.”
They ran—actually ran—through the groves, weaving between rows of cherry trees, stealing quick kisses and mingling their heavy gasps with laughter. By the time they broke through the tree line and reached the quiet shore of a small pond, both were flushed and breathless.
Tobin glanced at Grier standing at the edge of the orchard, ripening cherries framing her head, completely captivated by the picturesque scene before her.
They stood beside a dilapidated boathouse, a wooden boat gently swaying against its line.
Families of ducks and swans meandered along the shore, gliding quietly through the lily pads.
“I thought you might like this,” Tobin said softly. “It’s beautiful,” Grier whispered.
Tobin could feel the wonder in Grier’s words, her skin prickling with the emotion they carried. She stepped closer, pressing a light kiss to Grier’s lips—then deepening it as Grier met her, lip for lip.
But Grier pulled back, her voice low and serious. “This place is important.” Her eyes searched Tobin’s, and Tobin could feel their intensity, unlocking years of memories as a torrent of emotion flooded her chest.
This place was important. It was where her dad had taught her to swim, to row, to fish.
It was the backdrop for innumerable family picnics, stolen breaks during picking season, and her first kiss.
It was where her father had told her about his cancer—separate from the rest of the family, their relationship requiring a more intimate, one- on-one confession.
After that day, she’d stopped coming here. She’d dared to visit only a handful of times in the years since, checking on the boathouse and the boat before promptly retreating to the main house.
How was it that Grier so casually helped her confront so many of her demons? How had this woman walked into her life and calmed so many of her storms—while igniting just as many fires along the way?
Tobin placed a steadying palm on Grier’s hip, bunching the fabric of her slouchy white tee and flexing her fingers into warm skin, grounding herself in the moment—in her.
“Yes,” Tobin finally said, pulling herself into the present.
“This used to be my… spot. I spent hours here every day. It’s where I grew up.
Where I came when I was happy, when I was sad…
” She paused, a slow smirk curving across her lips—an overt sign of her current intentions. “When I was… aroused.”
She watched the flicker in Grier’s eyes and let her smirk deepen into a confident smile as she slowly lowered her head, brushing her lips faintly along Grier’s.
Her restraint impressed even herself— having been nearly void of it moments ago.
But here, with Grier and the hush of this forgotten place, she didn’t want to rush. She wanted to savor it.
Grier was practically breathless, her own desire mounting. Tobin could hear her swallow, grasping at composure, and felt the subtle tension in her torso as she prepared to steal a kiss. But Tobin evaded her at the last second, pulling her head back just a fraction.
Amber eyes darkened—lust and frustration blooming in tandem—as Grier’s carnality surged to the surface.
Tobin felt fingertips graze along her forearms, climbing to her shoulders, drawing goosebumps down her spine. Apparently, Grier wanted to play. Good. Tobin let her body shiver beneath the touch, a silent agreement passing between them.
Grier bent forward, planting a series of kisses along Tobin’s collarbone until she reached the soft slope of her throat. She bit— harder than Tobin expected—and murmured, “Tell me more about your arousal.”
Then her lips closed over the mark she’d made, sucking gently, her tongue stroking the tender skin with maddening precision.
Tobin’s body was weak with wanting. Grier’s tongue on her skin sent heat spiraling into her core faster than she could accommodate.
She used the hand on Grier’s hip to turn them, guiding her back two slow, deliberate steps until Grier’s spine met the boathouse wall.
She needed her braced, needed her there—anchored.
“This is where I learned about my body,” Tobin husked, her voice thick with memory. “Where I touched myself. Where I taught myself how to come,”
Grier gasped, her fingers tightening around Tobin’s biceps, where they’d just been softly stroking seconds before.
She reached for Tobin’s lips, but Tobin had her pinned against the boathouse, preventing her progress. When Grier relented and relaxed against the wall, Tobin cupped her jaw and stroked her thumb across her lips.
Grier darted out her tongue to taste her, and Tobin clenched in response. She dragged her thumb downward, tugging Grier’s bottom lip as she went, then laced her fingers along the delicate column of her throat, watching with satisfaction as Grier’s breath shuddered under her touch.
“This is where I came to fantasize about bringing the women I wanted to fuck.”
Grier whined beneath the light hold at her throat, the sound vibrating through Tobin’s palm. She hadn’t realized she’d pinned Grier against the wall with her hips until Grier bucked into her— delivering a delicious thrill of pressure right to her center.
Tobin pressed closer, grinding their hips together, pinning more of Grier’s body against the wall behind them. Grier gasped.
She reached her thumb up to Grier’s lip again, this time tipping it into Grier’s mouth. Grier sucked eagerly, eyes fluttering closed, and Tobin kissed the corner of her lips while she did.
“Tell me I can make my fantasies come true.” Her lips ghosted along Grier’s ear, her breath warm as she inhaled the scent of Grier’s musky perfume. Then, in a whisper that trembled with reverence and lust: “Can I fuck you, Grier?”
Grier’s breath hitched beneath her, pressing their chests together. Tobin slipped her thumb free, trailing her fingers from the soft hollow of Grier’s throat down to her breast. She palmed her firmly, grinning when she felt Grier’s nipple peak through the fabric.
She felt Grier nod against her cheek. But she wanted to hear Grier say it—to hear the want in her voice.
“Tell me, Cinderella,” Tobin murmured. “Tell me you want
me.”
She loosed a hot breath along the curve of Grier’s neck before
dragging her teeth—slow, possessive—from ear to clavicle. “F—fuck me, Tobin. Now. Hard.”
Tobin growled—low, primal. She spun Grier, pressing her chest against the boathouse wall, her own hips flush against Grier’s ass. Her hands slid around the front of Grier’s shorts, working the button open with practiced urgency.
Her palms roamed over Grier’s curves, fingertips tracing the dips of her waist before tugging the shorts and underwear down in one fluid motion. Grier stepped out of them without hesitation, her breath catching as the summer air kissed newly bare skin.
Tobin dropped low, her hands skimming Grier’s thighs as she kissed her way up each leg—biting lightly, licking at taut muscles that flexed beneath her lips.
She paused at the curve of Grier’s ass, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there before squeezing firmly, her fingers kneading into the supple flesh.
Above her, Grier braced herself against the boathouse, hands slipping beneath her own shirt to cup her breasts. Her head dropped forward as she gasped, breath ragged. Tobin looked up, utterly enthralled—at the arch of her back, the flush along her skin, the way Grier offered herself so completely.