Page 112 of The Ampersand Effect

But she absolutely would not push it.

And if Tobin was going to stand in front of her in that outfit—a fucking fantasy incarnate—and insist it was for her eyes only, well… Grier was going to take her literally and act on herself. If Tobin wanted that to change, then she could up the ante.

Grier watched the muscles in Tobin’s jaw tremble as she caressed herself. She saw her clench her hands into fists, only to unclench them and trace long, slow lines from her hips to her ribs. Her fingers caught the edges of her shirt, revealing more—and then less—skin with each unpredictable movement, while her other hand grazed across the front of her bra. Grier watched Tobin’s breasts tighten at her own touch, rising as they came alive.

She could feel the energy in the room shift—thickening, charging—turning carnal as Tobin met her challenge and called her on it.

“What senses are you thinking?” Tobin asked, her voice lascivious, eyes fluttering closed as she indulged in the sensation of her own her body.

Grier’s heart thrummed in her chest. Watching Tobin touch herself—knowing Tobin knew exactly what it was doing to bothof them—was a heady, intoxicating experience. Their arousal always seemed to rise in tandem, perfectly matched, regardless of who was giving or receiving.

She had never felt so intimately connected to someone before. “Touch,” she rasped, aching to feel Tobin beneath her fingertips.

Tobin’s eyes remained closed, her grin curling with quiet satisfaction as her fingers continued their lazy, teasing exploration. She knew exactly what affect she was having—and she was savoring it.

Then Tobin turned her head and opened her eyes, instantly finding Grier’s. The hooded, hungry expression that met her made Grier cross her legs on the bed, trying to find friction while her center throbbed in wait.

“Show me where you want to touch me, Grier,” Tobin said, her voice low and commanding.

Tobin’s eyes widened, watching Grier’s every movement with ravenous curiosity. Grier felt like she could dive into the dark pools of those inky irises—if only she got close enough.

She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly parched. Tobin’s unpredicted shift into top energy was new between them, and every cell in Grier’s body wanted it to continue. She’d played various roles with previous lovers, never too concerned with dominance or submission. With Tobin, she’d taken more control than usual—and that power had thrilled her.

Butfuck, if she didn’t want Tobin to take control now.

She shimmied the shoulders of her shirt down and let it fall to her waist, Tobin’s eyes never leaving hers. Grier could feel their heat searing into her skin. She wanted Tobin to see the effect she had on her.

She unclasped her bra and let it slide down her arms, exposing her breasts, her nipples already stiff with need. She trailed her fingers along her collarbone, down her sternum,circling the full curves of her breasts before cupping them both in her palms. She squeezed— hard enough for pleasure to spike and bite—knowing she’d leave handprints when she let go.

Tobin’s eyes gleamed through the low light, her breath uneven as she mirrored Grier’s movements—fingertips skating across her collarbone, gliding down her sternum, and slipping behind her back to unhook her bra. She stepped just far enough from the wall for her shirt and bra to fall to the floor.

Then, like Grier, she cupped her breasts—except she let her nipples slip between her fingers, pinching gently. When she squeezed, Grier felt her own center clench in perfect sync with Tobin’s grip. Her nipples engorged between her fingers, aching, and when Tobin moaned, Grier felt every drop of arousal pool in her core.

“Where else, Grier? Where do you want to touch me?” Tobin’s voice was low and rough with desire.

Grier loved hearing her like that—uninhibited, unguarded, lost in pleasure.

She rose to her knees on the bed, running her thumb along the waistband of her khaki shorts. Her own touch wasn’t especially sensitive there, but the look in Tobin’s eyes sparked a burn low in her center. She knew that if she slipped a hand beneath her underwear, her fingers would come out soaked.

She flawlessly slipped out of her shorts and underwear, then slid a hand between her thighs to cup her sex. She was as wet as she’d predicted. Her clit throbbed, swollen and needy between her slick lips. She parted them with two fingers and began tracing slow, deliberate circles around the pulsing nerves. Her breath hitched at the first glorious contact.

Across the room, Tobin’s hands drifted down her abdomen, slowly making their way to the apex of her thighs. Grier could see a dark stain blooming across Tobin’s satin panties, the wetness darkening the plum fabric. When Tobin pushed theedge aside, Grier’s mouth found its moisture, salivating at the sight of her soaking center.

She watched as Tobin ran her fingers from her entrance up through her slit, bucking when she reached her clit. The air thickened with the scent of her arousal, and Grier’s composure began to fracture.

Grier continued to stroke herself, her other hand gliding over her abdomen and breasts, adding friction and pressure where she knew it would intensify the pleasure pulsing between her legs. Her eyes grew heavy as she watched Tobin mirror her movements, their arousal building in tandem. She licked her lips unconsciously, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth before letting it slip free. Tobin caught the motion, and the subtle twitch of her mouth told Grier she liked it.

Tobin hummed appreciatively. “What other senses do you want to use to experience my body, Grier?”

Grier closed her eyes, letting herself simply feel—her own skin, the rhythm of her breath, the tight coil of need building inside her. When she opened them, Tobin was watching her. Waiting. Baiting her, masterfully.

“I want to taste you,” she commanded.

Then, gentler—almost reverent—she added, “Please… let me taste you.”

Tobin stilled her movements. Slowly—teasingly—she withdrew her hand from her panties, lifting it in front of her face. She spread her fingers, revealing the slick sheen of arousal glistening between them, then painted it lightly across her lips.

Grier couldn’t suppress the feral cry that tore from her throat, craving Tobin’s fingers at her own mouth.