Chapter Twenty-Three #6
Tobin stood and grabbed Grier’s hips, pulling her back and using her thigh to nudge her legs apart—opening her.
She groaned at the sight of Grier’s slick arousal glistening down her thighs, and reached for it, wetting her fingers before plunging firmly into her heat, immediately finding Grier’s G-spot.
They moaned in unison as Tobin began to move, slow and deliberate, feeling Grier’s walls grasp around her fingers—her own walls pulsing in response.
“I said hard and fast, baby,” Grier begged, her voice wrecked with need.
“I heard hard,” Tobin purred, teasing, “but nothing about fast.” She relished the way Grier’s body clenched around her. The sound of her wetness grew slicker, louder by the second as Tobin fucked her from behind.
“Fast,” Grier whined. “Please, Tobin. I—I need to…”
Her plea dissolved into a moan as Tobin slipped a third finger into her on the next thrust. She flexed them inside her, coating them with her wetness, then brought her other hand around to spread her open.
Her thumb began to circle Grier’s clit at the exact moment her arm began to piston faster, harder, rhythmically into Grier’s clenching sex.
Grier’s hand slid from her breast to brace against the wall, her body trembling under the ferocity of Tobin’s movements.
She panted, glancing over her shoulder—watching Tobin as she fucked her.
It was a heady rush, taking Grier like this—against the boathouse where Tobin had fantasized about so many similar scenarios.
Where she’d touched herself, imagining what it would feel like to touch a woman this way.
Tobin found her presence when Grier’s gaze locked on hers— the hooded eyes, the parted lips, the flick of her tongue as she wet them. Her own pleasure coiled, hot and imminent.
Suddenly, Grier straightened, reaching back to draw Tobin close, aligning their bodies.
Tobin’s chest grazed her back, a delicious friction teasing her nipples.
With Grier’s stance widened, Tobin found the perfect opening to lavish attention on her aching clit.
Tobin rolled hips forward, syncing with the rhythm of her thrusts, her own clit catching every stroke. So close.
Grier turned her head, her lips grazing Tobin’s neck—all breath and heat. “Fuck!”
Tobin curled her fingers deeper, pressing into Grier’s G-spot.
With her free hand, she slid over Grier’s clit, pinning it between her fingers, gently squeezing.
Grier jerked against her, an unchecked scream tearing loose from her throat.
Her fingers clawed into Tobin’s scalp, yanking her hair as the orgasm sluiced through her—relentless and shattering.
Tobin eased off, softening her rhythm, reducing pressure on both her G-spot and clit. But Grier’s thighs clamped around her hands, holding her there— anchoring her in the aftermath.
“Don’t stop—” she ordered, already rocking against her fingers. “I’m not done.”
“Christ,” Tobin breathed.
She resumed her circles over Grier’s clit, tapping rhythmically along the ridged walls inside her. She felt Grier engage her thighs, repeatedly lowering herself onto Tobin’s fingers, taking more of her in with each bounce—fucking herself at her own pace.
A sharp, needy moan tore from Grier’s throat. Tobin felt new moisture coat her fingers. Her own legs were trembling with their position—but she’d be damned if she stopped now. She’d rather die than leave Grier unsatisfied.
Grier’s whine crescendoed—then it disappeared entirely, replaced by a silent scream as the second wave of orgasm crashed through her. Tobin held her upright as her legs gave out, humming into the nape of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and the sex still thick in the air.
Grier’s breath came rapid and shallow, her chest heaving in Tobin’s arms. Tobin’s legs were shaking under the weight of both their bodies and her own unspent arousal.
She was seconds from collapse when Grier suddenly spun in her arms, pulling Tobin into her chest and bracing them both against the boathouse wall.
They leaned there, catching their breath, while Grier reclaimed the rest of her wits.
Then she pressed soft, seeking kisses to Tobin’s lips—kisses Tobin met eagerly, hungry for the contact.
Grier wrapped her arms loosely around Tobin’s neck, toying with the strands of loose hair.
Tobin fell into the kisses, stroking her fingers along Grier’s toned arms and leaning her full weight into her.
Her legs were still too weak to hold her up.
This heady feeling wasn’t going anywhere.
This constant collision of her past and present—at the apex of which stood Grier, kissing and smiling and humming into her mouth.
Humming her vitality into every cell of Tobin’s being, weaving into the spaces of Tobin’s consciousness, blending with her until she no longer recognized herself.
Because, at the center of it—at the heart of this feeling—all that remained was Grier.
And that’s exactly what Grier was—her heart.
Tobin didn’t have a chance to evaluate this revelation, this understanding that her heart had somehow become extracorporeal.
She didn’t get to consider how vulnerable that made it—made her.
Because Grier broke their kiss. And when Tobin searched for her familiar amber eyes, she found them darkened, glinting with a hunger so feral it chased all thought from her mind, leaving only a wild, howling need.
She caught the shift in Grier’s gaze—a brief glance over her shoulder.
Tobin started to follow her gaze, but Grier tipped up to kiss her—a smile already well-formed on her lips—stopping her in her tracks.
Without a word, Grier forced Tobin backward until her ass met the rough bark of one of the trees at the orchard’s edge.
She hit the tree with a surprised hmph, and then Grier’s hands were roaming—stroking down her arms, skimming her hips, down to the bare skin of her thighs just below the edge of her jean shorts.
Tobin’s skin tingled in the wake of her touch.
She wanted to feel Grier’s skin against her own.
She stroked Grier’s back, pulling her closer as she deepened her kiss.
Her hands roamed lower, breaching the hem of her shirt and sliding over the curve of her ass, smiling as she remembered—Grier was still bare beneath her tee.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Grier admonished, grabbing Tobin’s hands. “You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine.”
Grier pressed their chests together, and Tobin didn’t realize it was a setup until her hands were already behind her—Grier guiding them around the trunk like a makeshift anchor.
“Hold on tight, baby,” Grier whispered in her ear.
Grier’s lips hit her sternum, her tongue tracing a slow path beneath the edge of her tank top.
She cupped Tobin’s breasts through the fabric, lifting and rounding them out of the neckline, her mouth following with lazy kisses over the swells.
She thumbed her nipples over the thin cotton, sending a wave of pleasure to Tobin’s anticipating center.
Then she tugged the collar of the tank down, dragging her bra with it, and immediately found her nipple—sliding it into the depths of her hot, wet mouth.
Tobin moaned, head falling back against the tree. Good gods, Grier was devastating with that mouth.
Grier chuckled airily, grazing Tobin’s nipple between her teeth.
Tobin hissed at the shift in sensation and bucked her hips into Grier’s abdomen.
She found no friction; Grier countered the movement, jutting her hips backward at the same time—seemingly predicting Tobin’s need and outmaneuvering her, taking her sensitized nipple with her.
Tobin whimpered in protest, her need overwhelming. She wasn’t in control anymore—of her body, or her volume.
“You said this place was quiet enough…” Grier teased, releasing her nipple with a sly flick of her tongue. “But I think you can do better.”
Then she backed away, her chest no longer flush against Tobin’s, scanning their surroundings with something wicked behind her lashes. Her eyes stopped—alighting with intent.
Grier bent down.
Tobin was about to protest the loss of contact when Grier suddenly returned, waving a small stick between their faces with an expression equal parts seductive and conspiratorial.
Tobin’s blood pounded in her ears. Grier leaned in and kissed her—hard—then pulled back to command, “Bite this.” She didn’t wait before pushing the stick between her teeth.
Grier kissed her again, chastely, pressing against the curve of Tobin’s mouth where it curled around the stick. Then, without a word, she dropped gracefully to her knees.
Her knees!
Tobin felt Grier shove her tank top up around her stomach, felt her breath catch as featherlight kisses edged along the top of her shorts while Grier’s fingers worked to release the button and zipper.
Tobin dropped her head back against the tree and gripped the trunk, her hands still where Grier had placed them.
Was this really happening?
All of her teenage fantasies swam behind her closed eyelids, summoning a libido she’d thought had gone dormant.
None of her fantasies had included her being practically restrained against one of the trees—but fuck, Grier had this skill for manifesting Tobin’s fantasies and amplifying them in ways her brain failed to compute, overwhelmed by the physical pleasure before the comprehension could hit.
Tobin felt her shorts shimmy down her thighs—skintight as they were—and goosebumps erupted over her entire body when the open air hit the wetness between her legs.
It snapped her back into the present. The present where Grier was kissing her inner thigh, squeezing her bare ass in both hands, inching her lips closer… closer—
“-uck!” Tobin shouted, the stick between her teeth garbling the start of the word just as Grier’s tongue slid through her folds.
Her heels dug into the earth. She clenched harder against the tree, bracing against the wracking pleasure Grier’s tongue worked over her clit. Her legs went weak, and she was grateful for her grip on the trunk at that moment.
She was grateful for the whole damn tree, honestly.
Seriously, she might need to put a plaque on this tree. Cordon it off. Preserve it forever. Is it possible to landmark a tree for orgasmic significance?
Tobin felt Grier’s hands squeeze her ass, pulling her hips—and her sex—back to the heat of her mouth. Tobin hadn’t been trying to escape. Who the fuck would try to escape this? She’d simply… melted. Right into the tree trunk behind her, arms still clinging at their assigned position.
Her legs were jelly. Her arms were losing their strength. She wasn’t certain she’d be able to remain upright much longer.
She looked down. Grier was watching her.
Tobin closed her eyes, shaking her head side to side, and she groaned—growled—before loosing a string of sex-garbled gibberish into the orchard. When she opened her eyes and looked down the length of her body…
Grier was still watching her. Eyes locked. Mouth busy. And smug as hell.
Fuck this!
Tobin spit the stick from her mouth and brought her arms forward, finding Grier’s hair and twining her fingers into her loose chestnut strands. She gripped, tugging at the roots, reigning Grier a few millimeters over, right—right—where she wanted her.
Grier repositioned without protest, squeezing her ass in response. Her eyes hooded, still bright with arousal, and her mouth surrounded Tobin’s clit, tongue relentless. Tobin couldn’t help herself—she thrust her hips into Grier’s mouth. Once. Twice. Yes. A third time.
“Yes!” she screamed, her climax claiming her.
Her legs finally gave out. She fell to her knees, then slumped onto her side and back. She vaguely noticed Grier’s fingers on her clit, circling her as aftershocks spasmed through her body.
She came back to the orchard with Grier’s gentle kisses.
Her eyes fluttered open, brushing softly against Grier’s cheek as awareness returned. The euphoria still hummed faintly in her blood.
She chuckled, soft and light. But it grew into a deep, raucous, full-bellied laugh. Grier joined in, collapsing onto her chest and fisting her loose tank in her hands.
When their laughter settled, Tobin felt Grier’s fingertips graze her wrist, finding her pulse. She tapped a slow rhythm to its beat. As her pulse calmed, Tobin shifted her hand, lacing their fingers together.
Grier lifted her head from Tobin’s chest, locking eyes with Tobin’s—bright and shining with affection.
“That was unexpected,” Grier said, resting her chin between Tobin’s breasts. Her smile was broad, utterly content.
“That was… incredible,” Tobin murmured, unable to suppress the soft sounds of contentment in her voice.
“Do you think we were quiet enough” Grier asked cockily, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
Tobin thought about it. Yeah, they’d absolutely been that loud— at least, if the volume of her memories was any indication.
But she didn’t care. That had been unexpected and fantastic, and how could anyone blame her for screaming her pleasures through the orchard when Grier’s tongue was capable of that magic?
“Hmm… definitely not,” Tobin admitted with a laugh. Grier swatted at her chest, chastising her for her admission.
Grier rolled off and located Tobin’s discarded shorts and underwear, tossing them at her with a smug little flourish. She caught them midair, her wits and reflexes apparently having returned.
“Come on,” Grier said, grinning. “Let’s go see if they can keep a straight face when we get back.”
Tobin stood, helping Grier up in the process. “Oh, I like this. Put the ball in their court—see how long they squirm without cracking. You’re a damn genius, Cinderella!”
Grier returned to her, now fully dressed, and tipped up onto her toes to press a parting kiss to Tobin’s lips. Against her mouth, she murmured, “Your genius,” and laced their fingers together as they started back toward the house.