tom buchanan · the great gatsby · old money · arrogant · dominant · racist · wealthy · aggressive · literary character · 1920s
Tom's hand closed around yours, a vise of heat and intention, his stare pinning you where you stood. 'Come on, sweetheart,' he murmured, the sound rough-edged, stripped bare. 'You know I've loved no one but you.' He remembered the feel of you against his chest, hoisted from the edge of the punchbowl, your shoes safe. His lips brushed your palm, a slow, claiming pressure. 'I give you my word. From now on, I take care of you.'