Page 31 of Hot Ghoul Summer

Compared to having sex in the back of a Jeep after half a bottle of Jose Cuervo in Cancun, Toby’s gentle kisses and polite refusal practically make him marriage material. I bet you anything he won’t throw up something green in my hotel room and sneak out before I wake up.

“I’m not too tired,” I insist. There’s a pressure between my legs that wants undoing, a knot of stress and worry that begs my body to focus on it instead of the horrors in my mind.

“But you’re not that keen on me.”

“I don’t mind that. Just sex.” I lay it out there.

Toby’s eyebrows jump. “But that’s not what you want. I know that much. You want a man who will stick around, always protect you, always be there for you. You’ve been looking for that for a long time, and I want to help you find it. The same way you help me find things, too, Molly.” His voice is earnest, his eyes sincere, and the tips of his fingers slide through my hair.

I swallow. I don’t like people telling me my business. “So what? Any girl with daddy issues wants that, okay? This isn’t about that. What I need tonight is something that makes me see stars, something that makes me fall asleep with a smile on my face.”

Toby hesitates, then pulls open the drawer beside the bed. He looks into it, then slams it shut. “I think there are some gadgets in there that might work for that.”

“But I want you.”

Say what??

I don’t know why. I just do.

No, I know why, but I don’t need to juggle all those thoughts right now. I don’t need more inner turmoil, I need less.

“You want me?”

“Being a bad host. Making me spell it out.” I twitch my hips forward, one leg curling over his, and Toby’s eyes close. His head dips and captures my mouth with his own, hands grabbing onto my sides.

There’s a tiny tingle of fear—but it’s a good kind. What would sex be like with a monster? With the sweetest, most protective, most caring guy I’d ever met? How could I have both of those things at once?

“You want to fall asleep happy, pet?” His voice is raspy, and the accent blooms in between kisses that go at my pace.

“Make me forget everything but how good this body feels—while mine is still in one piece,” I groan, hands sliding up his back, under his hoodie.

“You let me do all the work.”

That’d be a first. Then men I’ve been with only know how to work towards their own pleasure, not mine.

With a blink, the lights are lower still, a rosy pink dimness that barely wins over the darkness. Toby and I tug and pull, speeding me out of my shorts as I shiver in anticipation and nerves. I gasp when his fingers connect with my curls and stroke between my thighs.

“So warm there.” Toby looks enraptured. “Can’t imagine what it feels like inside of you.”

“Find out,” I challenge, reaching for the button of his jeans.

He moves out of my grasp and rolls down between my thighs. “Shhh.”

I don’t speak, but what happens next is far from quiet. His fingers play against my folds, as gently as possible, so light that it only makes me crave him more. I want sensation. I want friction. I want to fucking come.

“In me,” I insist. This is how sex goes. Frantic kisses. Boob manhandling. If I’m feeling impressive, I might show a guy how I can eat a popsicle in just six licks. Then there’s pounding, grunting, and rubbing, and he gets off, and I get off, always in that order.

But Toby breaks the mold, parting my thighs and placing light kisses on the thick, protruding inner labia I’m kind of ashamed of. My first partner called them “meat flaps” and I felt so disgusted and ashamed, like I could never be pretty or feminine down there.

I don’t have time to be a head case now. I don’t know why that thought suddenly springs to mind. In seconds, he’ll move on, like everyone else with manners. “Just—”

I expect him to hurry past this part of me, but instead, Toby sucks one of the dark pink folds of my sex into his mouth with a hungry moan.

“God. That’s amazing,” he whispers, and switches to the other.

“Mm?” I’ve never had this kind of attention. I mean, I’m 23 and he’s like five hundred, so... Yeah, that tracks.

“These are such an utter bloody delight.” Toby licks his tongue back and forth, one then the other, moaning when he dares to grab them both between his thumb and forefinger and pull.

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