Life Is What You Make It (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Part 14: No More Teasing

A/N:  Okay, readers, this chapter is quite saucy and contains a lot of mature content. In fact, that's  pretty much all there is in this chapter. If that's not your thing, you'll probably want to skip this one and wait for the next chapter to post.

Thanks again for everyone's comments and votes!

More Than I Can Take

As Tom smiles his small, sweet smile for me, I rush to close the short distance between us, and kiss him silly like I've wanted since I first met him.

This man has driven me out of my mind since I saw him in his makeup chair at London Comic-Con, and I've thought, dreamed, and fantasized about nothing else but him since that time.

As I deepen the kiss by pressing my body against his, I feel Tom's arousal pressing against my stomach. This acknowledgment of his attraction to me drives me even further over the edge.

Tom releases me from his embrace, and says, "Oh fuck, Mia, you have me hotter than... how do you say it? Than a 4th of July firecracker," he finishes as he starts to nuzzle my neck with little bites and kisses. He continues this trail from my neck to my shoulder, pushing my t-shirt to the side for greater access.

As he parlays his initial foray into uncharted territory, I inch my hands toward his belt and attempt to untuck his shirt from his trousers. Tom grabs my hands briefly, stopping their busy work. "I haven't taken a shower yet. Maybe I should?" he asks.

"Why should you? I already know you're a dirty, dirty boy," I say, as I lick and nibble on his neck.

This elicits a groan from Tom, one like I've never heard. It seems to start in the pit of his stomach, and it continues through his diaphragm and his throat and to his lips. As it does, he gives me the most carnal look I've ever seen, and with that, he's pushing me up against the entryway table and practically mounting me there.

His hands are everywhere at once, stroking my curves from breasts to hips, and his lips can't seem to get enough of my skin's touch. He licks, nibbles, bites, and kisses his way across my check, across my jaw, down my neck, and dipping low toward my clavicle.

As I tug furiously at Tom's shirttails once again, Tom stops my progress for a second time. A small groan escapes my lips at his thwarting of my activities. Tom's response is to look at me as if I am the most delicious pudding he's ever seen, take my face on his hands, and kiss me with a deeper passion than I've ever known in my life.

Much too quickly, he breaks the kiss. But in one swift move, he scoops me into his arms and starts toward the stairs with what promises to be heaven in his own little sanctuary.

Is This Heaven?

As Tom carries me to his bedroom, he kicks the door open as we enter. He then walks across the room, and playfully tosses me on the bed.

With a giggle, I start to sit up. "Stop!" Tom commands. As I still my movements and look at him quizzically, he slowly studies my supine form as if he's memorizing every corner and curve.

"I don't think you realize how truly glorious you are," Tom says, stepping closer to the bed.

"Why don't you tell me?" I ask, rather breathlessly.

With that, Tom lowers himself to the bed, and lies somewhat beside and on top of me, softly stroking his hand from my neck up to my temple. "I'd rather show you," he says, in a husky voice.