Page 23 of The Substitute (New York Gods #4)

TWENTY-TWO

TOBI

It doesn’t take long for Savage to get me close.

It’s so much better than touching myself, and I swear he knows exactly how to get me off.

Like he has some magic manual to my body I’ve never been privy to.

And touching him adds a whole other level.

The sounds he makes that I’m causing. When he kisses me it’s all fucking over.

My head is buzzing, and sweat dots my skin as my orgasm washes over me.

The hand around my throat tightens just a fraction, and I swear I leave my body.

Why does that feel so fucking good? It’s dangerous.

He could hurt me, kill me, but he’s not.

It’s like the ultimate surrender, and I don’t ever want it to stop.

“So fucking perfect,” Savage croons as cum hits my stomach.

I fling my arm over my eyes and pant. He barely touched me. How embarrassing.

“Don’t hide from me.” Savage interlocks our fingers and moves my hand to the bed next to my head.

My face heats in an instant, and I’m sure it’s red as hell, but he’s smiling at me.

“Next time,” he says, running a finger through my cum. “I’m going to swallow this.”

Oh fuck. My dick twitches, and I suck in a lungful of air. Of course, he notices and chuckles in a deep, sensual sound that is loaded with promises.

“You like that idea, do you?”

“Mmhmm,” is all I can manage when he sucks his finger into his mouth and moans. How the hell am I supposed to think around him?

Savage winks at me and sits up, looking around. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Not yet!” I grab his arm, and he turns back to me. “You’re not done.”

“I’m not?”

I shake my head and reach for his cock. He’s still hard, even though I forgot what I was supposed to be doing a split second into this. I want to be happy about that, but it feels weird. Like it’s selfish somehow? Or conceited?

“What is going through your head right now?” He’s watching my face but thrusting his hips to fuck into my hand and holding onto my thighs. I hope he leaves marks.

“Nothing, I want to make you feel good too.”

Leaning forward, he braces his hands on the bed next to me. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

I nod, eyes too wide as I choke back the knot in my throat. Is it written on my face? All of my insecurities right there for him to see?

“Feed me your cum. I want to taste you while you get me off.”

My stomach tightens, and my rhythm falters. “What? Really?”

“I’ve been imagining what you taste like for months. I’m not waiting any fucking longer.” His dark chuckle spurs me into action, touching the mess on my skin with a shaking finger and lifting it to his lips.

My hand trembles in the air for a second before he snatches it with his mouth and sucks the digit clean. The groan he emits comes from deep in his chest, and it is now my mission in life to hear it again.

Jerking my hand back, I slide two fingers through the cum and offer them to him. He doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean as well. His mouth is warm and wet, and when he moans, I can feel it vibrating up my arm.

“Does it taste good?”

“Yours does.” He slides his tongue over his teeth, and I kiss him hard. Why is he so fucking sexy?

While he’s sucking on my fingers, I redouble my effort to get him off. I need to make him feel good, too. It becomes more important to me than my own pleasure. The way he groans. Fuck I want that.

“Faster.” He drops his forehead to mine. “Fuck, baby girl, I can’t get enough of you.”

He’s blurry this close, but I don’t take my eyes off him. Savage closes his eyes at the same time his cock pulses in my hand, and he lets out a long, ragged, guttural groan.

Savage takes a few panting breaths before he kisses me softly. It’s reassurance and comfort. Then slowly he takes my hand off his cock and brings it to my lips. I gladly lick his cum from my fingers. He watches with such intensity, I’m half-hard again.

His cum is salty and smells almost like he does. I like it. Suddenly, I want to know how he’d taste in my mouth, and my cheeks pink. Am I pushing it too far? Did he even want to get off? Why the fuck is my anxiety going post-nut crazy?

“You are so sexy,” he says so softly, I barely catch it.

“Promise?” The word trembles between my lips.

He nods, then asks, “Are you okay?”

I exhale, not sure I can speak at the moment without bursting into tears. There’s too much fighting in my head.

Good things and bad. I’m overwhelmed.

When I realize he’s still waiting for an answer, I nod to give him something.

“Words.” He drags his nose along mine.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Pulling back, he looks down at me like he’s looking for something. “I’ll get us cleaned up, then you can tell me the truth.” I huff, and he goes to the bathroom with his dick still hanging out of his pants. “Don’t move.”

Oh, to have that kind of confidence. I guess if I looked like that, I would have that kind of confidence, too.

Eyeing the mess on my stomach, I smile to myself. I did that. I made him come. He wanted to, with me. That walking wet dream of a man thinks I’m hot, and I’m not sure what to do with that or how to process it.

Savage comes back with two rags, but without pants. He’s just in a jock, and holy fuck I don’t know if I’m going to last another five minutes without getting hard again. It’s not fair how hot he is. “I could practically hear you thinking in the bathroom.”

“That would be horrifying.” I don’t like sitting here exposed like this. I want to get dressed, but is that weird?

He wipes the cum up with a warm, damp towel, then dries my skin with the other one. “Depends on what you were thinking about?”

The towels get discarded, and he hands me my sweats, which I quickly slide on. I sit on the edge of the bed, but now it’s awkward. Is he going to stay? Is he going to leave? I don’t want to be alone anymore, and Ambrose is out of town for a fucking game because of course he is.

And will this be a thing now? Or is he done now that he’s gotten off with me?

Oh my God, I was naked.

In front of him.

He jerked me off.

I jerked him off.

My face heats, and I drop my head toward my lap, needing a second to get my shit together.

Savage cups my cheeks and lifts my face to his. He watches me for a long second, then kisses my forehead.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”

My hands reach for him without thought, and I grip his wrists, needing the anchor in the here and now.

“Breathe with me.” Savage takes a slow, deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, then lets it out. I don’t realize how close I am to hyperventilating until I open my mouth and a sob comes out.

Could you be any more embarrassing? Two pump chump, and now you’re crying?

“Talk to me,” he says against my skin.

“I-i-its st-stupid,” I stutter, gasping for air.

“Shhh, breathe.” Savage lifts one of my hands from his arm and flattens it out on his chest, where I can feel his heartbeat under my palm. He doesn’t take his hand away but keeps pressure on mine.

He’s going to leave and not come back. Block your phone number.

“Breathe with me, focus just on the air going into and out of your lungs.”

I clench my eyes closed and press my face into his stomach to breathe him in. Savage runs his fingers through my hair, and it helps me focus enough to slow my breathing.

“There you go. Good.”

We stay like that a little longer until the embarrassment starts to filter in, and I sit up.

“Are you thirsty?” He brushes the hair out of my face and uses a finger under his chin to tilt my head up.

I nod, and he looks around but doesn’t find anything. “I’m going to go grab you some water from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

I nod, and he puts on his sweats, which I’m a little bitter about, then leaves.

Why am I like this?

I still feel vulnerable, naked, exposed, but I don’t know where my shirt went. Looking around, I find Savage’s hoodie and don’t let myself question it, just yank it on over my head and scoot back on the bed to lean against the headboard.

He comes back in with a water bottle and smiles at me. “That’s, what, the second or third hoodie of mine you’ve stolen?” He opens the bottle and hands it to me.

“Second. You can have the other one back. It doesn’t smell like you anymore.” I take a drink and decide I’m parched, so I chug the whole thing.

“Does it smell like you?”

“It smells like my mom’s laundry detergent.”

“Then you’ll have to wear it a few times before you give it back.”

I smile and drop my head, pulling the neck over my mouth and nose, and the hood over my head.

“Seemed like that had been coming for a while. Do you feel better?”

I shrug, and even though I’m exhausted and embarrassed, I know that’s not enough of an answer.

He lifts an eyebrow at me and waits. Something about it makes me chuckle, and I’m not entirely sure why, but it feels good to laugh, so I go with it. Once the laughter starts, I can’t get it to stop. My stomach starts to hurt, and I cover my face with my sleeves and bend over my lap.

“There it is.” Savage doesn’t sound angry but amused. He pulls the hood off and manhandles me onto my back, which helps me settle down. He’s smiling down at me, and it’s unfair how pretty he is. Like, traditionally attractive.

I can’t help but trace his lips with my fingertip. “Can you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Tomorrow is Sunday, so I’ve got nothing going on.” He nips at my finger. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, thank you.” I chew on the inside of my lip.

“You’re welcome.” He rolls to the side and gets us adjusted so we can sleep. “Now I’ll have to smell myself all night.” Savage nuzzles into the neck of the hoodie to prove his point. “Though right here is a delicious mix of both of us.”

It tickles, so I squirm, trying to get away from him, but the arm he has around me keeps me still. “Guess that means this will smell good longer. I’m not sorry.”

He kisses my neck and we settle into a comfortable silence. I’m exhausted and should fall asleep, but my head is too busy.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Apparently, he’s not sleepy either.

“I don’t know.”

“Want to tell me what set off your attack?”

I scoff. “Not even a little bit.”

“That’s why you need to tell me then.” He shakes me a little with his hand on my chest.

“I’d much rather keep my path”—I cut myself off when his hands tighten on me—“uh, insecurities? To myself, thanks.”

He growls, and his mouth brushes my ear. “It’s normal to have insecurities. Everyone has them about something.”

“I have more than my fair share.”

“You have some shit to work through, sure. But that doesn’t make you less worthy of affection or reassurance.”

“You’re basically a Hallmark card, you know that?” I smile into the dark. “A real book boyfriend if social media is to be believed.”

He tickles me and I scream, fighting for my life against the fingers digging into my ribs.

“You can just say that you like it,” he pants when he gets me pinned to the bed again. “You don’t have to get sassy about it.”

“I think I do, though.” I’m panting so much harder than he is, and I would be concerned about that, but he’s in amazing shape.

“Deflect all you want,” Savage adjusts to put both my hands in one of his.

“But I’m still going to tell you that I want to be here.

” He kisses my cheek. “That you’re hot as fuck.

” Across my jaw. “And worth making an effort for. Anyone who doesn’t see that is missing out. But better for me, I guess.”