Okay… That might have been hotter than potential skirt tearing.
As soon as I'm in place, his mouth crashes back to mine, big body wedging between my spreadable thighs, giving me the sort of contact I was seeking. The pressure against my clit through the thin fabric of my tight-skirt-required G-string has me sucking in a sharp breath. After spending months—maybe years—drier than the Sahara, I forgot how good it felt to be aroused. Touched by someone who doesn’t disgust me. Someone I don’t despise.
Someone I don’t fear.
And now I’m chasing that high, legs hooking at Tobias’s hips as I writhe against him. Needing more. Wanting to finally feel good. Desired.
Safe.
And I do feel safe with Tobias. That’s probably the biggest problem I’m facing right now. The reason I haven’t been able to keep an amount of respectful distance between us.
There’s certainly nothing respectful about what’s happening between us now.
Tobias’s mouth leaves mine, moving along my jaw to nip at the spot just beneath my ear. “Can I touch you?”
My already smoldering insides ignite as desire flares through me. Before I can even begin to consider the full ramifications of what’s happening, I hear myself saying, “Yes.”
Loudly.
When Tobias’s hand trails up the inside of my thigh, it’s not clumsy or fumbling. The movement is careful and controlled, but purposeful. There’s no hesitation as his fingers tuck into the tiny scrap of fabric covering my pussy. We both groan at that first touch, our voices mingling as his skin slides against mine.
“So fucking wet for me.” He teases along my slit, tracing a path over my heated flesh before focusing all his attention on the sensitive nub of my clit. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of touching you like this?” Tobias lifts his head, eyes fused to my face. “More than I can count.” He watches every expression I make as he works my body, quickly figuring out exactly how I like to be touched. “I thought about how good I would make you feel. All the ways I would show you I’m better than I used to be.”
The man isn’t lying. Tobias wasn’t terrible before, but he was a pretty standard twenty-year-old guy. Moderately capable. Tried to do his best, but didn’t quite have the patience or maturity to really shine.
Holy fuck is he glowing now.
Every pass of his fingers alongside my clit is exact and unerring. There’s no change in pace or pressure as he brings me to the edge so quickly I don’t even know it’s happening. The orgasm catches me completely by surprise, barreling down on me as I cling to the man threatening to undo me before I’m even fully back together.
“Fuck.” Tobias’s voice is a deep growl as he watches me, soaking up every sound I make as I hold onto him for dear life. “You are so pretty when you come.”
I’m not sure that’s true, but since I’m currently a worthless noodle, I am incapable of arguing. I’m also apparentlyincapable of doing anything else, and the only reason I don’t spend the rest of the day sitting on my desk with my skirt around my waist is because Tobias gently pulls me to my feet. Righting my clothes, he lowers me into my chair.
He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before saying, “Gotta go change my pants. I’ll see you at home.”
I stare after him as he leaves my office, closing the door behind him.
Did he..?
Was he saying..?
Is it possible Tobias Bradshaw just came in his pants from touching me?
No. That wouldn’t happen. Right?
Probably not.
But if it did…
That would be very, very sexy. And very, very good for my bruised ego.
After Tobias leaves my office, the rest of the day is pretty normal. I get a lunch delivery from Greenhouse Café, and it is absolutely delicious. The apple and brie sandwich is probably my favorite item from the menu, and it shows up here at least twice a week. I’m not sure how Tobias has figured that out, because he never comes around while I’m eating, so someone must be feeding him information.
I just don’t know who.
But I wish they would offer me a little insight, because after leaving work I decide to go to the grocery and get something to cook for dinner. Unfortunately, I don’t know what in the heck Tobias likes to eat. Everything he’s cooked so far has been meatand potatoes—plus the chicken soup he made when I was sick—but I don’t know if that’s because it’s easy, or if it’s because it’s what he likes.
There is someone who might be able to give me an idea though.
