Before I can say anything, he speaks, his harsh voice changed to a serrated whisper. “Why can’t you let me save you, Layla? Why do you make it so fucking hard?” The flash of agony and regret is so thick and bright on his face that I see his true intentions.
He wasn’t in his office because he knew I’d come. He knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. He wasn’t there because he was trying to…yeah, save me. Me. No one has ever done that for me before. I’ve never been that important to anyone.
His patience seems to be stretching thin and I put my palm on his stubbled cheek. “I thought you’d left and I’d never see you again…like Caleb did.”
Something changes in Thomas. I don’t understand it, but I know it’s different than his anger just a few seconds ago. His fingers burn hot on my arm and I can feel it through my coat. I wonder what I said. His scowl matches the black sky, and I can actually hear him grinding his teeth.
He whips his hood off, messing the sweaty hair even more, and wrenches my arm, pushing my back against the tree. The bark is rough and soaked with liquid snow, and I feel the chill seeping in.
I crane my neck up to stare at his beautiful, glittery eyes. The impact of their beauty doesn’t lessen no matter how many times I look at them.
“Caleb.” He rumbles over my mouth and I grab his sweatshirt at his waist.
He kicks my feet apart with his own before invading the space between my thighs and pressing my hip against the tree. My fingers flex where I’m holding on to him, itching to get under the heavy material and touch the ridges of his abdomen.
I want his mouth on me.
Maybe he knows what I want. Maybe he can see it in my face, because he hovers close and ghosts his lips over mine. Wildness grips me and I go to snatch them up with my mouth but he moves away, leaving me panting.
He rocks against me, letting me feel his hardness. “Do you think your Caleb can do this?”
“Wh-What?” I’m dazed with arousal. I don’t want to talk about Caleb, not right now. He yanks me to his body and rubs me against his cock, groaning, controlling me like I’m his doll. His little fuck doll. I moan. Why does this arouse me so much?
“Do you think he can get hard for you, Layla?” His hot breath grazes my forehead, making my spine tingle.
“No. Not for me,” I whisper against his neck, feeling the jerky bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
“Yeah? What about if you stroked it? Long and nice.” He unclutches my hand from his sweatshirt and puts it on his cock. I massage his achy hardness through his sweatpants. “Do you know how to do that? Do you know how to stroke a cock so it’s hard and painful, ready to fuck you?”
His shuddering chest crashes against my tits, until my body is mimicking his actions, shuddering in return, taking in quivering breaths. “N-No. I’ve…I’ve never done that.” I shake my head and rub my nose into his neck.
Thomas moves away then and I squeeze his shaft, trying to stop him. He clamps his jaw shut and looks at me with dangerous, passionate eyes. Now I’m scared, shivering with a good kind of fear, waiting for his next move, blinking up at him.
Without a word, he almost tears the buttons of my coat open and the cold air punches me in the chest. I gasp, losing my breath.
“Th-Thomas, it’s…it’s cold.” My teeth chatter when his hand goes under my skirt and fists my tights. “Please, I’m so cold.”
He pulls on the material and brings me closer to his body heat. “I’m reminding you.”
“About what?”
“What I said about trespassing.”
A fleeting thought touches my mind. A long ago memory of us bantering at The Alchemy on poetry night. Bad things happen to those who trespass.
“I’m sorry. I panicked. I thought you’d leave me too. I—”
“I know, like Caleb.” He pins our foreheads together. “And that’s another thing I’m going to remind you of—that I’m not Caleb.”
“Oh God, you have to stop. Please.”
A smile sits on his lips, one as cold as the winter around us. He lets go of my tights and I’m left disappointed even though I asked him to do so. Then he hooks his fingers around them and pulls them down, leaving my thighs vulnerable and bare, and I lose my breath to the chill all over again.
“Caleb wouldn’t do that, would he?” He adjusts the waistband of the useless material so that it cuts into the soft flesh just above my knees. “He’d stop if you asked him to, but who am I, Layla? What’s my name?”
“Thomas,” I answer, quivering as he circles his hot hands along the back of my thighs. My frozen insides begin to melt under his touch. The cold has no meaning, no power over me.
“Yeah.” He rumbles, as if pleased. My breaths shake with the pleasure in his voice. “I won’t stop even if you beg me to. I’ll make you strip in the cold, put you on your knees on the ground and fuck you till I fill you up. You know why, Layla?” I shake my head, hypnotized by his voice. “Because you want me to. Because that’s why you came here, scared out of your mind. You want me to fuck you in my backyard, isn’t that right? You want me to bend you over and pound into you so you scream and wake everyone up. And you know what’ll happen then?”
“Wh-What?” I shudder when his hands go to my ass and squeeze it.
“They’ll open their windows, all sleepy and irritated, ready to call the cops on whoever is making all that noise, but then they’ll see you, on your hands and knees, getting fucked, taking my cock and screaming. Your face all scrunched up. Tears streaming down your cheeks…” He pauses, groaning into my neck, getting aroused by his own story. “And they won’t be able to stop themselves. They’ll stroke their cocks to the rhythm of your moans and when you come, they’ll come in their pants. Won’t they, Layla? They’ll see you on the ground, naked and writhing, and they’ll lose it.”
I could die at the shocking words falling from his mouth. I’m so tangled up in the erotic web he’s woven that all I can do is moan. All I can feel is the imaginary eyes looking at me, looking at us, and I want to put on a show for them.
“You love that, don’t you? You love being wanted.” He’s as much gone as I am.
“Yessss,” I hiss, imagining the lewd picture he just painted with his words. He’s a wordsmith, a filthy, commanding wordsmith, and I don’t ever want him to stop.
“And what’s my name?”
“Thomas.”
I open my eyes to look at him. A half-smile blooms on his lips, making me even hornier. The elastic of the tights bites into my skin as he pushes my feet even farther apart.
“Hold up your skirt for me,” he whispers over the fluttering pulse of my neck, then licks it, sending electric waves to my core.