Anchor wiped her eyes, still laughing, and managed a single word that explained everything:“What?”Her voice was laden with humorous disbelief and the weary acceptance of someone who’d finally stopped fighting the chaos around her.
They all broke into laughter together.
“This is the first time I’ve had hope in months,” Anchor said finally, her voice quivering with emotion. “Thank you—all of you!”
Tobin pulled Grier to her side in a one-armed hug and pressed a proud kiss to the top of her head.
Then, in a low whisper meant only for her, she said, “Let’s get your sexy brain back to my place. I don’t have a runway—but Idohave the suits you love. And I can give you a show.”
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 foryoureyes.” 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’sgaze—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 myeyesonly, 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.
