Good Boy: Tom Loftis x Reader (NSFW)
Summary: Tom shows you how much of a good boy he can be after you challenge him about his reputation.
Prequel to:
Black Magic Woman - Tom is forced to confront a strange truth after Wyck reveals a town secret.
Blood, Sex, Magic (NSFW) - Tom’s determined to prove exactly who you belong to after Wyck’s revelation.
Before The Dawn (NSFW) - Tom wakes up in the very best way before his big day.
The Bay Bookshop has existed for centuries.
At least that’s what The Historical Society says.
And it’s also always been owned by women, a boon for the town that’s struggling to put themselves on the map. Being hailed as the first female owned bookshop in America, could bring in a certain type of tourist if they get you a little plaque and can convince the New York Times to do a feature on it.
“It’s really not a good idea Tom.” You say as you unpack a box of signed Steffanie Holmes novels for your pre-order packages. The townies go crazy for that cozy crime, reverse harem motif. To be honest you don’t blame them, there isn’t much else to do on this island other than read ‘why choose’ romances featuring three of literature’s greatest villains, it’s why you do so much business.
“Oh, come on, it’s a great idea, imagine how much the shop will thrive.” Tom says helping you to unpack the next box of books. He picks up one, reading the back, his eyebrows rising. “Is this…”
“That may be a little too much for your delicate sensibilities.” You reach out to snatch it out of his hand, but he backs away before you can grab it, colliding with the counter.
The two of you have become friends ever since he started stopping by three years ago. Evan had started becoming more independent, and Tom was looking for something to occupy the long, lonely stretches of time he now had to endure inside the house. He’d come for the books, stayed for the company, and the blueberry lavender cake you usually saved for him at the end of a long trying day. In return he helped you restock the shelves, and reorganise the window display, playing into his secret fantasy of being New England bookshop owner.
“You think I have delicate sensibilities?” He remarks, holding the book just out of reach as you clamber for it by placing your foot on the lower shelf where you keep the spare gift cards and pushing yourself up those extra couple of inches so you can grasp at his outstretched arm.
“I think you have a reputation for being a good boy.” Your entire body presses up against his as you grope for the book, the heel of your ankle boot slipping causing you to teeter backwards.
“What’s wrong with that?” He loops his arm around your waist, crushing you against him in order to steady you.
Your soft curves drive against his hard edges. Heat courses through his body through his body, an invigorating sizzle underneath this skin. Your mouth is tantalisingly close, so close that he’s distracted momentarily and you’re able to reclaim the book from his fingers.
“Nothing, in the right circumstances.” You say tilting your head to meet his gaze as you set the book down on the counter behind him.
Your eyes remind him of the ocean, a beautiful wild tempest he wants to hurl himself into. He can’t deny his attraction to you, it’s been simmering away under the surface since last Christmas when you kissed him underneath the mistletoe. It was nothing more than a brief touch of the lips, but it had set his entire body ablaze for the first time in over a decade.
“And the right circumstances would be?” His gaze is back on your lips. He remembers how soft they were against his mouth, how the scent of pine and mint had clung to your skin. He’d wanted to kiss you back under that mistletoe but then Dale had interrupted, desperate for the new C.S Poe book and you’d been stolen away from him.
He’s thought about it often since, on the evenings the two of you were alone ‘merchandising’ but he’s never had the courage to make the move, because he’d never been able to gauge whether the kiss was a thing between friends or a show of romantic interest.
“Tom.” His grasp on your waist tightens as your fingertips ghost along the five o’clock shadow that lines his jaw, tilting his chin up so your lips are almost brushing over his. “We’ve been playing this game for a while now, and I need to know if you have feelings like mine or if I’m just…”
He kisses you then, and it’s never been so sweet, so perfect, so gloriously torrid. Fifteen years’ worth of passion breaks free and suddenly he’s lifting you onto the counter, your woollen dress riding up as he deposits you on.
You kiss him with the ferocity of storm, the force of it pounding through his veins as his weekend t-shirt is pulled up over his head and tossed somewhere amongst the pre-order merchandise. Your fingertips trail over his skin, through the dark curls on his chest as his tongue dips into your mouth, eager, exploring. His hips slot between your thighs, nestling perfectly against your core, cock hard as a rock as you grind against him.
It’s good, so fucking good that he can feel the ecstasy surging up underneath the denim. He pulls away, his thumb chasing over your flushed cheek as he admires those kiss swollen lips.
“Let me show you how much of a good boy I can be.” He sinks to his knees, guiding your legs over his bare shoulders as he kisses the inside of your knee. The heel of your ankle boot digs into his back, a sensual blossom of pain that intermingles with the pleasure as he plots his course all the way up your inner thigh, tracing pathways with his deviant tongue to your core.
“Oh.” You whisper, your breath punching from your chest as he drives his face between your legs and inhales you. “Oh Tom.”
Its’s been a long time since he’s pleasured a woman, and this is the part he missed the most, the scent of her arousal, the taste of her on his tongue.
He kisses you through your underwear, butterfly kisses that flutter over your core, sending sparks through your body as his knuckles tease along your entrance. His tongue presses against your clit, soaking the fabric as he traces his name over that needy little bud.
You lean back against your palms, hips arching against his mouth, demanding more and he smiles sinfully against your cunt as he draws your underwear down your thighs, leaving it in the pile with his shirt.
His mouth returns to you, hot, wet and desperate to explore the ebbs of your pleasure. Your taste explodes on his tongue and he moans into your pussy at the sweetness, his fingertips skirting along over the shape of your entrance, parting you around them.
Your head tips back, hair spilling over your shoulders as his middle finger slips inside. You’re tight, so tight that he knows there hasn’t been anyone in your life for a while. Your hand threads through his dark curls, gripping them as he starts to fuck you, his tongue teasing circles over your clit.
A magnificent pleasure starts to build, it vibrates through your nerve endings like a call to the wild, matching the drum beat in your soul. He inserts another finger, crooking them, hitting that sweet spot. Your breath catches as he strums the notes, playing them all the way to the crescendo, until you’re coming all over his tongue and he’s licking up every single drop like its nectar from the Gods.
He withdraws his fingers, his lower half of his face still glossy as he places them in his mouth and sucks your taste from them in that deliciously wicked way of his.
“I think we’d better head upstairs.” He tips his head towards the steamed-up display window, towards the curtain you’ve forgotten to pull across it. “We wouldn’t want the whole town to see what this good boy does next.”
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