In her heels, she was tall enough to rub against him, her satin-covered tits pressed to his chest, her mouth tipped to his. Toby kissed her roughly, shifted his weight forward and gripped her hair. He drove her against his living room wall, his hard cock grinding into her stomach. “What do you want?”
“Whatever you have to give.”
He laughed, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the room where he’d first checked out her stencil.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Bedroom.”
She’d barely stepped inside the clean, boy-smelling space before Toby pushed her onto his mattress and shoved his cock between her legs. He fucked her fast, one hand clamped around her throat, calling her names.
“I can go all night, bitch,” he snarled. “You can tell your boyfriend that. I’m gonna keep you here until he comes knocking. Make him watch while you gush all over me again.”
Tabby lost track of how many orgasms she had. By the time he was done with her, she was sobbing and drooling all over his sheets.
Toby gave a low laugh, smacking her hard on her ass. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “One hundred percent.”
He fell asleep as she gathered her things and booked an Uber, and she told herself she was glad not to have to do the ‘Am I sleeping over?’ dance. But as she crept out of his three-story monstrosity of a house, she realised she wished he’d walked her to the front door. That worried her almost as much as the knowledge that part of herhadwanted to sleep over. But there was no need to overthink things. After all, she’d be back tomorrow.
12
It was two in the morning, and Tabby was lying under her covers, pretending to sleep. Despite getting up at 7 a.m., there was no chance she’d actually fall asleep. She was so excited she could hardly keep her eyes closed.
Last night, she’d been handcuffed to Toby’s headboard as he rubbed lube across her tits and slid his cock between them. Before he came, he’d mused about how fun it might be to climb through her bedroom window and screw her while her fake boyfriend watched fake TV in the other room.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he’d said, his big hands clamping her breasts in place as he fucked them. “I sneak into your house, piss-drunk and needing a ride. Are you gonna give me one, Tabitha?”
She should probably get ‘yes’ tattooed on her forehead at this point.
A noise outside her window made her heart jolt, but the silence that followed said Toby hadn’t yet arrived. She settled back into her pillow, smoothing down her fuchsia slip. She usually slept in undies and a ‘Hog Wild’ t-shirt with a boar on the front, but the silk negligee had arrived at Silver Daughters this morning, and she had to admit it was a lot more roleplay appropriate.
Barely a day went by without Toby sending her something. She was lying her balls off to Sam and Nix about why she was receiving so many parcels.
“It’s merch from this company,” she’d say, whipping the boxes upstairs before either saw the invoice slips from Agent Provocateur or Calvin Klein taped to the top.
Luckily, her sisters were still too distracted with Nix’s pregnancy and the ‘skulking Jo’ situation to question lies that would have had them coming after her like Sherlock Holmes a year ago.
Toby mostly sent underwear, but there were other things as well. A new iPhone because her screen was cracked, a Mecca voucher that let her replace all her ancient makeup with shiny new palettes from Charlotte Tilbury and Urban Decay. But the most shocking thing had arrived a week ago in a box big enough that Noah had given her serious side-eye. She’d told Toby she wanted a leather jacket, and he’d sent her a beautiful, belted coat from Kahait. The most incredible thing she’d seen since Toby had fucked her in front of a mirror and she’d been able to watch his ass in action.
It was still too hot to wear the jacket, which was good because despite how out of it Sam and Nix were, theyhadnoticed the fingerprint bruises cropping up all over her body, and a fancy new jacket would leave them in no doubt of her sugar baby status.
“You don’t have to keep sending me stuff,” she’d told Toby after he’d come all over her boobs. “Seriously, it’s super generous, but?—”
“Does it turn you on?”
She’d blushed, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah, but?—”
“Me too. I love looking through stuff and figuring out what I’m gonna send you. Besides,” he’d said, sliding down her body and wrapping his arms around her thighs. “You’re paying me back, aren’t you, sweetness?”
Tabby wasn’t sure the conversation had really been resolved, but it was hard to care when Toby ate her like ice cream. He was so, so good at giving head. Good at everything sex-related. That was part of why she felt so guilty. Toby was such a stellar fuck, she was pretty sure she should be paying him. But if he was as horny about buying her presents as she was about receiving them, who was she to argue?
Her window rattled, and she held her breath, but it was again a false flag. She didn’t know why she was being so jumpy. Sam sometimes slept in the house, but she mostly lived with Scott, and Nicole and Noah had their new place in Fitzroy, so there was no chance she’d get busted. She and Toby could be as loud and depraved as they wanted.
Digging under her pillow for her lip gloss, she reapplied, wondering exactly how mean Toby would be when he finally arrived. Their games had shifted over the last few weeks. The blackmail, pseudo cuck stuff was still there, but they’d expanded into bondage and the kind of elaborate roleplay Tabby wouldn’t have believed she could pull off.
Last week, a French maid costume, complete with a feather duster, had arrived at the studio. When she’d called Toby for an explanation, it had been simple. “Put it on, come over, and clean my house.”
