Page 62 of Sister of the Bride

“Never,” he says, and then he’s silent because his mouth is busy holding me right at the edge of the biggest orgasm that’s ever built inside my body.

“Fuck. More. Please. God. Right. There.” I’m an explosion of one-syllable exclamations, all my brain can do as the coil of the orgasm tightens inside me. And when Toby releases one of my hips to slide two long, thick fingers inside me, I swear I nearly black out as that coil releases, flooding my body with sparks. I collapse over him, heaving, my thighs shaking as the reverberations of the orgasm flow through me.

Toby looks up, meeting me eyes, a smile on his face. “Good?” he asks.

“So fucking good,” I reply through breaths so heavy I feel like I’ve just run a marathon.

I can’t fucking believe we did that.

And yet, having stood at the edge of the pool and dipped my toe in only to find that the water iswarm, I suddenly want to dive all the way in. I want to slip my whole body inside this moment and float, enjoy. I’m not ready to get out just yet.

So I slide off the counter, gripping Toby’s hips and walking him back a few steps, enough to give me space to kneel. The evidence of his arousal is thick and heavy against the seam of his sweats. I glance up at him to see his eyes dark, his pupils huge as he watches me on my knees, dipping my fingers into his waistband. He reaches out and grasps the counter behind me like his knees will buckle without the support.

It’s not until I’ve freed his erection, long and thick and so fucking hard, that I take my eyes off him. My mouth waters as I stare at Toby’s cock.

“Only if you want to, Pippin,” he grinds out, his forearms flexing as he grips the counter like he’s at the top of the first hill on a roller coaster.

I do not examine why the answer is an emphatic yes or if this is a bad idea. If we’re going with honesty, then honestly I want his taste on my tongue. I want to feel Toby come apart the way he just made me come apart. I want to feel all of it. All ofhim.

“I ammadeof want, Toby,” I say.

I grasp the length of him in my fist and give a gentle pull, causing him to suck in a breath through his gritted teeth. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my lips at how much I want this and how much I like watching him want it too.

I guide the smooth crown of him to me, gently painting the bead of wetness across my lips, then swiping at the salty trail with my tongue.

“Fucking hell, Pippin,” Toby groans. “I feel like I could die from this.”

“But what a way to go.” I grin, then lave the length of him with the flat of my tongue, circling around the head before sucking him into my mouth. His hips jerk when I rake my teeth across his velvety skin, then follow the scrape with my tongue. I suck and lick and tease until I feel his thighs begin to quiver and his breath comes in shuddering gasps, and when I grip him and pull him deep and hum, a tortured sound grinds out of him.

“I—Pip—I can’t—I’m gonna come.” He gasps, and when he starts to pull back, I hold him deeper, unrelenting in my attention to his cock. My fingers move over the length I can’t take in as he twitches against my tongue. When his orgasm finally rips through his body, I swallow every drop until he collapses over me, his forehead on the countertop.

“Am I dead?” Toby mutters.

“You’re the doctor, don’t ask me,” I say, rising to my feet, still reveling in the salty, heady taste of him.

Toby stands up and gathers me into his arms, his chin on top of my head. “Are you okay?” he asks. I feel his body brace.

And mine does too. Because Toby and I just had orgasms. Together. He came in my mouth. I came in his. I’m not freaking out, but I’m afraid that if I look too closely at this, I might.

“I’m not sure?” I say, sticking with honesty. It’s worked for me so far, after all. I’ve never had an orgasm quite like that.

Toby is completely still, a feat for someone who just came so hard he nearly left finger indentations in the marble counter. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do we have to?”

“At some point we probably should,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of my head. He yanks up his sweats and moves back a few steps, releasing me so he can lean against the stove, arms crossed over his broad chest.

I nod. What just happened with Toby was incredible. I think I want it to happen again. There’s a possibility I never want to do anything else.

But it’s not that easy, and my reservations—despite all this honesty—remain the same. I mean, the look on Toby’s face right now is so fragile, so fractured, that I can barely stand to look at him. I’mterrifiedof what comes next. We haven’t just crossed a bridge, we’ve torched the motherfucker behind us. There is literally no going back.

But that doesn’t mean I’m strong enough to go forward at this moment.

“Can we, um, get a rain check on that talk?” I finally ask, staring down at my bare toes on the tile floor.

Toby’s hands go to his hair, pulling at it until it’s standing up, and then he scrubs them down his face. He scoops up my leggings, holding them open so I can step in. He reaches for my still-damp T-shirt and tugs it over my head. Then he leans down and plants a feather-light kiss on my lips.

“I know you have a lot going on right now, so this conversation can wait,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine as he floats his hands up and down my arms. “Wecan wait. Just promise me you won’t go home and spiral. That you won’t work yourself up and then avoid me. Promise me that when you’re ready, you’ll talk to me.”

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