Page 121 of The Fix

My hips arch, my breath hitching. “Toby.”

“Yeah, my needy girl?”

I shiver, a gasp popping off my lips. “Need you.”

His hum vibrates across my chest and teases my exposed nipples. “Need all of me, don’t you. Every bare inch of my cock inside this pussy?”

I nod frantically. “Yes, yes.”

“Then that’s what my girl gets.”

He doesn’t slam home like I expect. Instead, he hooks his elbows around my knees, breaking my hold on him, and raises them to his shoulders.

I’m squished beneath him, my chest constricted, but none of that matters when he finally sinks to the hilt and his pelvis meets my butt.

His moan echoes mine, the fullness I feel claiming my breath, stealing my consciousness, and squeezing around my heart.

There is no more me or him, only the way he stretches me. Fills me. Takes me.

His hips move, retreating and sliding home again, over and over. It makes the headboard dance, the room spin, and my vision to dot.

I swear I see the sun starting to peek from behind my curtains, but the faint light only creates a halo around Toby's profile, transforming him into the god I know he can be.

“More,” I pant.

The sound of slapping flesh takes over my ears and I don’t know how much more I can take.

“Tell me this cunt is mine, Mama.” My neck arches back, muscles going taut. “Tell me it’s mine and mine only. Mine to come in.”

I clamp on to him, my hands finding purchase in anything that’ll tether me to this planet. “Yes. Yes. It’s yours.”

Toby shudders out a breath. “Say it again.”

“It’s yours,” I gasp.

He bottoms out, his body pressing all the right buttons inside me that tears spring to my eyes. “Say you forgive me.”

My eyes slam to his and it feels like so much more than sex swirling in those pretty eyes. “I do.”

Toby doesn’t move. “You knew … how?”

My head shakes and my hips try to squirm beneath him, my body set on resuming our original pursuit, but I'm firmly pinned down.

“You needed to want it more than me,” I whisper, my throat constricting against the intensity staring down at me.

His mouth falls open like he’s going to say something, then snaps shut.

It’s that moment that I see the puzzle pieces collect inside his mind, his eyes darkening. “I’m not your first.”

“No …” My bottom lip wobbles, the memories slamming me full force, and it’s no longer the weight of Toby holding me against the mattress, but the burden of my past.

The one I couldn’t help.

The person I couldn’t fix.

“Mama,” Toby growls and grips my chin, dragging my attention up from his chest. “It’s not your fault.”

My heart breaks, and I sob.

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