Page 89 of The Ampersand Effect
Grier was not Talia. Nor any partner before her. She was entirely, uniquely… Grier. Tobin felt overwhelmingly safe with her—something that confused her, because she could sense how much Grier wanted her, how thoroughly she craved her—and that knowledge had historically left Tobin feeling caged. But Grier didn’t force her needs; she asked, she waited, she communicated. And that respect only heightened Tobin’s arousal and deepened her trust.
Tobin inhaled deeply, feeling Grier restrain herself, her desires— to check in with her to make sure she was okay, ready.
Tobin, decidedly, was very ready.
In response to Grier’s hesitation, Tobin met those lust-darkened eyes and reached behind her back to unhook her bra, letting it slide down her arms—exposing her breasts, her tattoos, her story. Grier beheld her with a palpable mix of awe and desire, as if unsure whether to reach out and hold her or to pounce and claim her. Tobin wasn’t entirely sure which outcome she preferred, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that sheneeded to give Grier everything she wanted. And that started with touch.
She closed the distance between them, pressing her chest to meet Grier’s still-hanging hand. She closed her eyes, relishing the way Grier’s fingertips grazed her skin—trailing along her collarbone, slinking reverently over the ribs at the edge of her breast, tracing the branches of the cherry blossoms.
Grier’s fingertips lingered over the line of keloid scar under the base of her breast, gently following the curve of the tissue where the ink of her largest, most intricate tattoo attempted to camouflage the remnants of her horrible accident. Tobin had chosen the cherry tree in full bloom as a reminder of her past—her literal roots— and the strength borne into her to regrow and bear fruit in spite of disfigurement.
“You’re magnificent,” Grier hushed, her voice raw with emotion.
Tobin opened her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching into a diffident smile. She’d received her share of objectified compliments before—but the way Grier looked at her, stroking the lines of the story imprinted on her skin with such… reverence, made Tobin balk at the unadulterated adoration in her eyes. She felt wholly unfamiliar with—and undeserving of—Grier’s devotion. She closed her eyes again, chasing the shame of her unworthiness.
Tobin’s breath hitched uncontrollably as she felt the dampness of Grier’s lips brush against her sternum. Grier traded her hands for her mouth, trailing soft, intentional kisses from the base of Tobin’s sternum up to the notch at the top—flicking her hot, wet tongue there, right where Tobin had once confessed was a favorite. She didn’t think anyone had ever kissed her there, in the spot she’d learned responded best to slow attention. To have Grier’s attention there—knowing she recognized it as a pleasure zone—sent shivers down Tobin’s spine, and alow, guttural moan escaped from somewhere deep behind that spot. She felt Grier smile against her chest, her closed eyes heightening her other senses, registering the subtle twitch of Grier’s lips as her smile took form.
Grier’s hands slid around Tobin’s ribs to her back, pulling her body down to meet bare skin. Tobin gasped, opening her eyes—ashamed to have missed Grier removing her own bra, yet so incredibly turned on by the surprise, by the sensation of their bare breasts meeting, of feeling Grier’s firm nipples pressing into her own. She found herself in a conundrum—she deeply wanted to remain pressed against Grier, their bodies fitting together perfectly, entwined like two halves of a whole. But she also desperately wanted to see Grier—naked from the waist up, lying in her bed—and measure just how accurate her fantasies had been.
Tobin caved to the visual stimulation. She needed to see Grier beneath her. Shifting her weight, she intentionally thrust her pelvis against Grier’s center as she pushed up on her forearms to look at the woman pinned beneath her.
Fuck. She’d had fantasies, but nothing compared to the reality of Grier. Her lightly tanned skin contrasted against the charcoal duvet, her hair unraveled from its customary braid, tendrils snaking around her face. This—accompanied by the pleasurable yip she released when Tobin’s pelvis met her center—rendered Tobin completely, utterly void. She was an empty vessel, and the only thing capable of filling her was Grier.
Tobin’s eyes combed over Grier’s body, taking in every angle, every curve. She watched her breasts shudder, her nipples peak and tighten under her gaze. She watched Grier fidget and writhe—not from insecurity at Tobin’s extremely appreciative stare, but from unsated lust. Grier’s fingers instinctively moved to her own breasts, deftly tweaking her nipples as her eyes implored Tobin to take over.
Tobin’s gaze roamed freely, trying to decide where to start, and landed—definitively—on the small black tattoo of a paper airplane that flew away from her left breast, angling along her ribs.
Tobin lowered herself, bringing her lips to the inky marking on Grier’s skin, just grazing the lower curve of her breast along the way. She kissed the tattoo again and rasped, “You’ve been holding out on me.”
Grier giggled at her tease.
Tobin immediately flattened her tongue and licked the entirety of the small tattoo, then blew a soft, cool breath over the moisture, thrilling at the goosebumps erupting across Grier’s torso. She delighted in the upward lift of Grier’s breasts as the teasing aroused her further.
Tobin grazed the tattoo with her teeth.
“I fucking love to be teased,” Grier moaned in response.
Tobin smiled at that—and her vision tunneled. Teasing was an art form, and she was a master. She began trailing kisses along the underside of Grier’s breast, ensuring Grier could feel her proximity without offering more than fleeting contact along their curves. She traded kisses for long, deliberate swipes of her tongue, then alternated breezy exhales over the damp skin—like she had over the tattoo.
Grier’s breathing grew ragged; soon, she was bucking her hips into Tobin’s stomach, searching for friction. Every so often, Tobin gave it to her—thrusting their centers together, grinding against the apex of Grier’s thighs, hoping to make her just as wet as Tobin knew her own center was.
Suddenly, Grier pulled Tobin up by the head, demanding, “Come here.”
Tobin resisted halfway through her ascent, nuzzling Grier’s nipple with her nose. Grier huffed in begrudging acceptance at the detour. Tobin pressed her closed lips over the erect peak,savoring the way it teased her own libido before opening her mouth and taking Grier wholly into her heat.
She hummed with her own gratification, and Grier whined in satisfied surprise, arching into Tobin’s mouth. Tobin continued to lap at her with reverence, her tongue stroking slow, steady patterns across the supple tissue as Grier melted into the rhythm.
Grier dragged her fingers down Tobin’s spine, then back up into her hair, mussing it and raking her nails across her scalp as she tried to corral her pleasure. Tobin loved how Grier squirmed under her touch—beneath her. She felt her own desire grow, and with each passing moment, her insecurities shrank. Her need to touch and be touched rapidly became the only concept her overloaded brain could process.
She loosened her lips around Grier’s breast, letting the nipple slip free, then nipped at the tip as it escaped her mouth. Immediately, she grazed her palm across the damp skin, memorizing the feel of Grier’s firmness against the sensitive skin of her hand. She cupped her breast fully, filling her palm, then let her fingers find the tight bud as she planted a line of kisses between her breasts and onto the other side—peaked and waiting impatiently for her attention.
Grier wrapped a leg around her back and began bucking her hips into Tobin’s stomach. Tobin met her movements, gliding her pelvis upward to grind down into her. She felt Grier’s hands flailing between their bodies—pushing, searching. Tobin released her breast and drew back, needing to see her face, to center them both.
Again, Tobin found herself asking, “What do you want?”
Grier huffed in frustration, shifting beneath her. Tobin followed her gaze down the length of their nearly conjoined bodies as Grier began fumbling with the waist of her own pants. “Skin. You—more! “ she ordered, exasperated, struggling to tugthe fabric from her legs while Tobin still rested between her thighs. Giving up, she grabbed Tobin’s cheeks in both hands, pulling her back into a greedy kiss. Tobin didn’t resist as Grier bit down on her lower lip, expelling her frustration, then spoke through her kisses, “Get me naked. Now.”
Tobin didn’t hesitate. She’d wanted this for so long—Grier’s reedy command only deepened her desire. Sliding downward, she trailed teasing kisses along Grier’s impatient stomach. If Grier loved to be teased, Tobin could make that happen while answering her demands. She was enjoying it just as much; the sights and sounds of Grier’s building pleasure filled her with a heady, lust-craze.