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  Like me.

  When I’ve made it to her, I come too close. It isn’t like me to care, but it also isn’t like me to invade personal spaces.

  “Is that so?” I finally respond, boxing her in against her car. Her chest rises sharply, her cheeks slightly flushed.

  “Yes,” she bites, her cheeks sharp from locking her jaw.

  “I hear orgasms are a great cure for those.” It’s a whisper, said right below her ear. I’m not sure when I leaned so close, but my lips brush her with each word. She inhales sharply, the sound warming me. Temptation spreads through me, knowing she’s affecting me as much as I am her.

  It takes everything in me not to push her against the hood and show her just how well orgasms reduce pain. Placing my palm on her jaw, I grip her chin. She worries her lip between her teeth, bringing my gaze to the way she’s avoiding looking at me.

  “Is that what you want, Joey? To come and feel some of that ache leave?” Wiping my thumb across her bottom lip, she moistens it with her tongue, taunting me.

  “What if it is?” she practically growls. Her eyes dark with lust, sharp with anticipation, but underneath the surface, I can see her hatred. The abhorrence living beneath the surface of that dainty exterior.

  “Spread your fucking thighs,” I command, not willing to test the theory of her resistance. She’s giving in, and I should accept it—take and feast upon my goddamn winnings. That’s what we both need, isn’t it? Release. To see where this connection is going, how far it will rise to the occasion, and maybe it’ll be so fucking good that neither of us will be able to let go.

  Or maybe that’s exactly what we need.

  To let go.

  Instead of debating my head, I tap her thighs. “Open.” Her eyes narrow a little with argument; she wants to fight and, in a way, I want her to. Being pliant isn’t attractive, but being destructive is as hot as a fucking ice bath.

  Her legs split with her gaze intent on mine, telling me to go fuck myself.

  Now why would I do that when she’s right here to give and give and give?

  “Turn around,” I all but hiss.

  “No,” she refuses, shaking her head, but she bites that goddamn lip telling me a different story. I press into her, her softness cushioning my hardness. Every inch of our shared warmth blazes. We fit perfectly. I grip her throat, making sure not to press too hard but wanting to feel her pulse beat beneath my touch. Maybe she doesn’t like being manhandled, but she looks fucking spectacular beneath my grip.

  “Turn the fuck around.”

  She smiles coyly as if she doesn’t realize how bratty she’s being. “Gonna make me, old man? Or are you too weak? Old age and everything...” she taunts, just like she did in Vegas. Coercing me to show her that I could hold my liquor. She likes the game between us. The one where she pushes, and I’m forced to press right back.

  I release her neck, watching as she momentarily pouts. Pulling her away from the car by her arms, I twist and shove her against it. Luckily, it’s not super lit out here, or I’m sure Frankie’s cameras would catch us. Or his guards. If they’re smart, they’ll look the fuck away.

  Pressing her chest against the glass of the car, she moans. Goddamn. She likes being handled, pushed, and I fucking love demanding.

  “You seem to like pressing my buttons, Sous. Bet you don’t expect how much you like being controlled, huh?” She grunts but grinds against my dick. “You want my cock deep inside you, don’t you? Stretching that tight little pussy as you scream for more.”

  “Fuck you,” she hisses, but she doesn’t stop rubbing against me. Her body wants me, even if her mind is dead set on denying it.

  “Oh, I will. I’m going to thrust inside that slippery cunt of yours and you’re going to beg for more.”

  “You talk too much,” she grumbles as I undo the button and zipper of my jeans. Hooking my fingers into the little loops on her shorts, I slide them down her thighs. As soon as my eyes catch the tiny scrap of material between her cheeks, a guttural noise escapes my lips. She’s getting restless, and I’m loving the way she doesn’t stop fidgeting. She’s got it bad.

  My hand rests on her backside, rubbing up and down, wanting to press my palm against it harshly. Needing to leave a mark she’ll feel tomorrow, serving as a reminder that she loves my ownership.

  I slip my fingers between her folds, feeling her drenched. “Fuck, you’re so wet, Sous.” It comes out hoarse and needy. She’s fucking soaked for me. I rub her clit, watching in awe as she grinds into my fingers for more friction. Trailing my fingers to her hole, I dip inside and she’s panting.

  “Fuck me already,” she groans.

  A smile takes over my face at her words. Pulling my stiff cock out, I rub it up and down her folds like it’s a paintbrush, wanting to test every goddamn color on the palette. Her tiny gasp escapes as I inch in slowly. Halfway through, my body can’t contain the adrenaline rushing through my veins. Desperation clings to me as I thrust into her, my hips pushing her body flat against the door of her car.

  “Shit.” Her voice is raspy with lust, and the sound alone has me wanting to drill into her. My hips move on their own accord, chasing the pleasure shooting through my balls, wanting to rise and escape into her. “Toby, faster.” It’s a breathy demand. I love the way my name sounds leaving her lips, kissing the air with promise and urgency.

  I reach for her clit and start flicking it roughly, making it a point that it hurts as much as it feels good. She bows into me, her body only held by me and the car. A goddamn mess of curse words and moans escape us both as we chase our releases. Picking up my pace, I grunt as my cock goes in and out of her, slipping and disappearing between her cheeks. Pleasure zings through me, but I need her to come before I do.

  “Come for me, Sous. Coat my cock with it.”

  “Such a dirty fucking mouth,” she groans as I harshly rub in circles across her bundle of nerves. She cries out, the cadence of the sounds surrounding me like a fucking wet dream. That’s all it takes to tip me over the edge. Thrusting a few more times, I throw my head back and groan out into the night air, feeling my heat coat her walls.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  No condom.

  Staring as it leaks from her, it hits me. It’d be a goddamn shame not to watch us sin when the entire world could bear witness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Present

  Joey

  After the enchanting high wanes, my heart spasms, softening me and hardening me continuously. What did we just do, and why do I want to keep going until I’m a messy puddle at this asshole’s feet? What is he doing to me?

  As distressing as this is, he eviscerates me with his eyes, confusing my heart further. He’s gazing at me long and hard as if he sees the gears inside my head moving, trying to understand the emotions I’m sure are slathered all over my face.

  Instead of asking, he interrupts my invasive thoughts by turning me around and pushing into my chest. His palm flattens against the rapid thrumming. As if the organ itself seeks his touch out, it further palpitates, oscillating against my ribs in a steady staccato. When I don’t breathe, he lowers as if tying his shoes, his face level with my hips.

  “Put your thighs around my shoulders,” he demands, smacking my bare thigh, then deftly grips it. This is definitely not where I imagined this going, but the voracity of his gaze isn’t one to riot against. If anything, it’s enabling the way my legs begin to spread.

  “Toby, I don’t think—” Nerves take hold, warning me. We’re in public. This shouldn’t be happening. Not when his release hotly leaks from me, tracing my thighs and possessing every inch they coat.

  He stops my words by kissing the sensitive flesh he just spanked and raising my legs around him, where his mouth presses against my very drenched center. His breath tickles and thrills all in the same motion. Tendrils of desires wrap around me, holding me hostage as he coerces my submission. It’s daunting to know we’re in the middle of the driveway where anyone could see us or
catch us, but fuck if that doesn’t drive me toward him more.

  My chest rises rapidly as he nuzzles my slick flesh, groaning in a husky way that has me squeezing his head. Running my fingers into the russet hair that’s messy in the most purposeful way, I battle with bringing him closer and pushing him away, slaving against my last ounce of control.

  “I’m going to lick your pussy, Sous. I want to feel how you taste on my tongue now that you’re mine.”

  Shit.

  His mouth.

  His? Did he just say his?

  Stopping my train of thought with his scruffy cheeks, I can barely process anything. Not just from him touching my most intimate place while it’s still wet from us, but he always uses his tongue as a battle sword, fighting me with each word. I never know if it’ll be a caress or a plundering, but it’s always hot.

  Raising his head, he trails his nose up my pussy, dragging it between the seam of me where I’m bound to be coated in our shared release. I groan as his tongue joins the war, waging my emotions and life for pure pleasure.

  He’ll win.

  He always does.

  I never stood a goddamn chance.

  “Scream all you want, Sous. The whole world should hear me claiming you as mine,” he grits, swiping my clit with his tongue. It’s slow and savage with as much power as leisure. It’s torturous bliss, and he’s well aware.

  His hooded eyes meet mine as he’s buried between my thighs. The hazel hues—bluer like a nearly black sky—glint with mischief and promise as he licks from my ass to my center, not letting me lose concentration.

  It’s intense, being eaten out while a stare such as Toby’s penetrates me as surely as his tongue does. It’s seductive and maddening, feeling every sensation from both his ambitious gaze and wicked mouth. He’s wrecking me with each stroke, killing me with every jab, and stealing me piece by piece with every pleased grunt.

  My eyes close when a finger enters me. It’s an automatic response as I attempt to absorb each tendril filling my body. He surprises me with his teeth, biting down, forcing my gaze open once again.

  “Watch me, Josephine,” he growls after pulling back an inch. “Watch me take you. No one will ever have you after this. No one will make your cunt clench like me. No one will ever be me.”

  And fuck, with another lick across my throbbing clit, I’m moaning his name as he laps up our shared release as if he’s been blessed to do so.

  My chest bows with each pant, my body spent in the best way. He rests my jelly-like legs on the ground, gripping my hips to keep me from falling.

  Before I can say a single word, his palm cups the back of my neck, pulling my lips to his. He takes my mouth with an intensity that feels as powerful as the erection pressing into my stomach. How is he already hard again?

  His tongue teases my lips, wandering, exploring, claiming. It’s such a passionate exchange, and that fuzziness overwhelms me. My stomach feels warm and electric, like a live wire, waiting to be touched by something living and visceral.

  He bites at me when I close my eyes once again.

  “Don’t hide those icy eyes, Sous. They’re meant to watch.”

  I nod as he drags his teeth across my bottom lip, wanting him to bite harder, wishing I didn’t want him so much. He feels essential. If I don’t have him, my body will wither; that’s how he makes me feel. How is that possible? How is any of this happening right now?

  Toby pulls back, looking at me with heat, his eyes glint conspiratorially. It’s endearing, and I hate that too. That we’ve never been more than this moment, but it seems we should be.

  Dragging my eyes from the glistening of his jaw and throat, all the way down to his stiff dick, I practically heat right back up, wanting him to take me again.

  Bruise me.

  Claim me.

  Take, take, take.

  What is happening to me?

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to get better acquainted with that pussy.”

  I blush, feeling it hit my cheeks. My body warms at the smile that tilts his lips, and I want this moment to stay. To wrap it up with safety-tape and keep it tucked away where reality won’t tarnish it.

  “What if I want you to explore more?” I question. It comes out a lot huskier than intended, but the way his eyes narrow, darkening his irises, I’m pleased with the outcome. My hands flatten against my car, needing something to ground me since the cobblestone beneath my feet seems just as unstable as the emotions warring inside me.

  “Fuck. Joey. You’re killing me here.”

  I can’t help but grin because he hasn’t called me Joey yet. It sounds desperate coming from him, and it’s something I shouldn’t get addicted to.

  “We should go then, old man. Especially if someone your age can’t handle it,” I taunt, biting my lip at the glare he returns. Instead of arguing, he flips me against the car, spreading my thighs once more.

  “Can’t handle it?” he mocks, smacking my ass. “It’s you who should be worried, Sous.”

  Then he’s thrusting into me in one go, pistoning against my ass as if it’s meant to slap. He growls when I push into him, forcing him deeper. He slides a palm up my spine, making sure to leave chills in its wake, and trails it to my hair. His fingers delve into the frizzy mess, fisting it while he uses it as his own rein. I cry out as he angles his hips to hit me there—that bumpy spot inside me that Wes never found—making me shake. Sparks break out over my skin, hardening my nipples with the chill.

  “So fucking tight. Did you know that? You’re squeezing me like a fucking vise, Josephine.”

  With my name on his tongue, I’m gripping him tighter, flexing as an orgasm takes over. He tugs my loose curls harder and deepens his thrusts.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit,” he grunts, and then I feel him release inside me again, heat swimming through me, soothing me from the inside out.

  Sweat lines my spine, forehead, and arms, coating me with lust and satisfaction. When he pulls out again, I’m shaking from head to toe. Not ever experiencing this kind of sex with Wes and never this intense of a workout either. Even though I surf often and run just the same, it’s like Toby worked muscles I didn’t know my body had.

  “We should probably leave before someone comes out,” he mentions, and resituates my shorts, patting my ass gently. “But next time you test my stamina—” he traces a finger to the crease of my ass. “—I’ll show you just how many ways I can stick my cock inside you and still keep going.”

  His words send shivers of promise through me, and I’ve never wanted to test a theory more. Especially when I wiggle back into his groin and feel him already half stiff.

  “Guess I should lay on the old man jokes thicker next time.” The tease no sooner leaves my lips before he’s smacking my ass and making me yelp at the sting of pain. And if the little slut in me doesn’t jump in glee at the sensation...

  “Move that ass, Sous.”

  “Yes, boss,” I mock, batting my eyelashes.

  “Cheeky girl,” he muses, kissing my nose affectionately.

  At that moment, I was no longer the homeless, penniless, and loveless girl who just lost everything.

  I was his. Tobias Hayes’s.

  And not even I realized what that meant at the time.

  Part II

  Intoxicated

  You never realize your life is destroyed until there’s only scraps of what hope looked like.

  It’s like an invisible tornado. Chaos and destruction remain, even while you can’t see the curator of the damage.

  Yet unlike an invisible storm, you know even with the shambles, there’s a required clean-up. There’s no simple fix in starting over.

  Not without a hefty cost.

  Not without giving up the possibility of recovery.

  Not without accepting you’ve really and truly fucked up.

  And that’s what’s truly intoxicating about pain.

  You can realize it, mend it, and even overcome it. But if you’re like me,
you love it, live for it, and thrive off its nasty bite, hoping in the end, you suffer endlessly.

  Forever damaged.

  Forever lost.

  Forever empty.

  - Joey

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three Years Later

  Toby

  It’s been three years.

  Long, hard, life-altering years.

  I’m married.

  I hate her.

  She hates me, too.

  Maybe this is my penance, my dues for being a piece of shit and trying to steal my brother’s wife. I deserve her hate and give it back tenfold. Now, it’s our routine. I’m not sure what life would be without our constant bickering.

  Peaceful, maybe. Lonely. Lifeless, definitely.

  She deserves more, but making her suffer with me has become a game, and she hasn’t walked away either. Maybe she lives for it, too.

  Hollow Ridge.

  I’m back here.

  My home.

  Or rather, it was, until I screwed everything up.

  We all make choices. Some that burn us, some that light the way, and others that have no reaction in either direction. My choices—mine and Lo’s—ruined my life. Yeah, being a willing participant is what brought me to this moment. I wouldn’t even change it for the world. That is, unless if I could change from ever meeting her.

  She gave me a great life. Up until the end, that is.

  We wouldn’t have worked out. No matter how much I wanted it, no matter how hard I worked for it, and no matter how many memories we shared.

  Her and Jase were fated.

  It was stupid of me to think I could come between that. Be what she needed, what I wanted, and still make her as happy as him.

  It wasn’t meant to be for us as much as I tried.

  We were circumstance, and they were destiny.

  No matter how much I repeat that, acknowledge it, and realize it, the pain doesn’t falter. My pursuit for the connection I felt with Lo hasn’t come. Maybe it won’t—maybe it wasn’t meant to be in the first place.

  I try and try and try for love. I did. I do. Yet I can’t find it. I can’t find her; I can’t find the other half of my soul.