Dirty Ugly Toy (11 page)

He’s gay. He’s gay. He’s fucking gay.

The rage simmers and I drag my lips over hers. She tastes like the grapes Christine put into the chicken salad from lunch. I want to fucking devour my toy.

She slides her palms over my pecs through my dress shirt and I groan. It’s taking everything in me not to push her over my desk and shove her pretty dress up her hips. I want to fuck her hard—mark her with my seed. If I knew Trevor wouldn’t enjoy it, I’d make him watch so he would know she belongs to me.

But the sick fucker would probably whack off later to thoughts of her.

Normally I wouldn’t care.

However, Bunny is different.

She’s mine.

“You smell good,” I murmur against her ear. “I want to taste you.”

Her fingers thread behind my neck and she pulls me to her, her hot breath in my ear. “So take a taste.”

My mouth finds hers and I crush my lips against her plump, painted ones. A small moan escapes her and it reminds me of two nights ago when I got her off with my finger in London. So soft and sweet. I typically wait another week with my toys before I fuck them because I want them to get used to the house and routine. But not with Bunny.

I need her.

And soon.

She kisses me back with surprising shyness for a paid whore. It isn’t like the toys who by this point are trying hard to impress me with their new good looks and expert kissing skills. This one kisses me with the unsureness of a timid lover—a woman that is enjoying making out with a handsome man but not quite sure if she’s doing it right. For a moment, I devour her. I own her with a kiss. Show her with each swirl of my tongue, each plunge of it into her mouth, that she belongs to me. That I’m the expert here.

The doorbell rings and I drag my lips from hers, causing the room to echo with the slurping noise. Her green eyes are hidden beneath her hooded dark lashes and her cheeks turn pink. She’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“I’m sorry there’s no time to train you before our guests arrive,” I lie. I’m not sorry. In fact, I enjoy watching my toys squirm as they wonder which fork to use with their salad. As they act inappropriately at dinner and grow embarrassed when my friends and clients glare at them with disgust written all over their faces. They deserve it for being stupid whores like my mother. Bunny deserves it too.

“What do you mean, train me?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I stride toward the door of my office. “On etiquette, Bunny. I know it’s hard to still be trash at the core even though you look like treasure, but eventually you’ll learn. Just not tonight. Tonight you’ll have to suffer through being the laughing stock at dinner.”

The sudden intake of a harsh breath behind me causes me to smile. I take delight in the humiliation. In making my toys feel their shame. Even this different, beautiful, confusing one. She deserves it. They all deserve it.

Dubois has already answered the front door and is taking coats by the time we enter the entryway.

“Good evening, Trevor,” I shake his hand. He’s tall and handsome but he’s a pretty boy. I could crack his skull with my knuckles if I felt like it. A time or two, I’ve most certainly felt like it. If he weren’t so good at running FTL, I’d have already canned his ass.

“Evening, Mr. Kennedy,” he says back with a voice smooth as silk. His curious eyes trail behind me and when he catches sight of my toy, a predatory smile stretches out over his features. “Who do we have here?”

Ignoring Glenna and Jamal, I jerk my head to see him stride over to Bunny. Before I can stop him, he’s already touching her. They’re simply shaking hands but everything about the way he handles her is sexual. He likes my toy. The motherfucker
wants
my toy.

“Trevor, Glenna, Jamal,” I grit through clenched teeth. “This is Bunny.”

Bunny’s mouth pops open in horror and snaps her gaze to mine. What? Did she really think I would introduce her as Jessica to my employees?

“Bunny,” Trevor purrs. “How cute.”

Dubois must sense my impending brutal outburst, with Trevor being the target because he ushers them toward the dining room. “Christine has prepared a fine meal for everyone tonight. Unfortunately, she burned her hand and had to leave to go to urgent care. Someone from the agency will be serving dinner tonight.”

The trio follows him but Bunny remains, an angry scowl on her face. When they’re out of earshot, she hisses at me. “Bunny? What’s so hard about calling me Jessica? Huh?”

I stalk over to her and grab her jaw in my punishing grip. Her eyes widen but she isn’t afraid. I’m curious as to why I don’t scare her. I scare every one of my toys. I’ll discover a way to haunt her dreams eventually.

“Because under my roof, you’re Bunny. Remember?” I snarl. “Or did you forget because you were too fucked up being a drug addicted whore? Let me remind you.”

She yelps when I release her and grip onto her bare bicep, dragging her toward my office. Once inside, I shove her into the chair in front of my desk and leave her to find the contract. It’s in a locked filing cabinet with my other expired contracts. I snatch hers and come back around to her side of the desk.

“For five hundred thousand, you agreed to live with me. You agreed to answer to whatever the fuck I want to call you. You agreed to wear the shit I provide for you. You agreed to learn whichever skill I think best suits you. You agreed to all of this.”

Her glare is wicked and if I were a lesser man, I’d cower under it. But I’m not. I’m the biggest person around here. Some little girl doesn’t scare me one single bit.

“And what if I decide I don’t want your goddamned money?” she spits out.

I smirk. “Well, you’d not only become homeless, but you’d owe me a twenty-five percent ‘restocking fee’ to recoup my costs of obtaining you.”

“I don’t have a hundred-twenty-five grand!” she shrieks, standing quickly.

I’m momentarily shocked at her ability to compute the number so effortlessly in her head. Our chests are nearly touching as she stares up at me with a vicious look of hate in her eyes.

“Then you’ll do as you’re fucking told, toy. Get over yourself and stop being a spoiled brat. You can play pretend for a few months. This’ll be the best six months of your entire life,” I snap back at her.

She starts to argue but I decide I’ve had enough of her bullshit. Sliding my fingers into her glossy, smoothed hair, I haul her to me and kiss her hard. Her fists pound into my chest at first but as my tongue dances with hers, she relaxes and gives into the kiss. When we’re both fighting for air, I push her away from me.

My eyes fall to her swollen lips and I know exactly how I want to punish that naughty mouth.

“On your knees,” I demand with a bark.

Her eyes narrow but understanding washes over her features. Despite my harsh tone, she seems eager to please. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’d expected more of a fight from her.

I take her place in the chair and lean back. “Suck me off. You’ve been teasing me for over a week now and I’m ready for some payment. Make it good or I’ll make you suffer.”

She drops to her knees and makes her way between my spread legs. My cock aches to be set free and her tiny hands don’t hesitate to make quick work at freeing me. The moment her warm hands encircle my thickness, I groan in pleasure.

“Lucky for you,” she purrs. “I give the best blow-job in the UK and half the time will take a fiver. Imagine how good it’ll be for as much as you’re paying me.”

I raise an amused brow at her cocky attitude. But the moment her plump lips slide over my cock, her quick little tongue tasting the drop of pre-cum on the tip, my eyes roll back in my head.

“Jesus,” I hiss out.

She takes me deep into her throat—the woman has no goddamn gag reflex—and I nearly lose control. This was supposed to be punishment for her, but for some reason I feel like she’s calling the shots here. With a need to regain control, I tangle my fingers in her hair and shove her down until her teeth scrape the base of my cock. She makes a gurgling sound and struggles but I don’t release her. Her hot throat feels so fucking good.

Her hand grips my balls and in a threatening, but not punishing way, she digs her nails into the sensitive flesh there. I release her and she pops off with a loud slurp. She flashes me an evil, hate-filled scowl before she continues to suck my dick. I half expected for her to yell at me to the point I’d have to slap the fuck out of her. Instead, she continues her task like a good little toy.

I’m soon distracted by the expert way her tongue swirls around on the underside of my shaft and my vision goes dark with the need to come.

I could warn her but I want her to drown in my release. I want it to take her by surprise and it shoot out of her nose. Hell, I’d like it if she choked and then vomited from it.

I’m a sick bastard.

The release comes out with an explosive rush of heat. I jerk my gaze to find her staring up at me while she owns my cock. Her throat bobs as she gulps down every drop I have to offer.

It was the best damn blow-job of my life.

And I’m pissed as hell about it.

“Fuck you, Bunny,” I snap and shove her off my dick.

She lands on her ass and stares up at me in confusion. Ignoring her, I stuff my wet cock back into my pants and fasten them along the way to the door.

“What’d I do wrong?” Her demand is meant to sound angry but I hear the vulnerable, almost wounded, quality to it.

“Get to the dining room and try not to embarrass me.”

I stalk out the door and expect her to take a moment to collect herself. Instead, I hear the angry clacking of her heels on the marble as she stomps after me. Together, we make it into the dining room where everyone is buttering their dinner rolls. I take my place at the head of the table, my back to the view of the lake, and Bunny takes the only open seat beside me.

“Sir, Miss Collins is green from the agency,” Dubois mutters, his tone apologetic. “She’s gone to fetch an appropriate wine to serve with dinner.”

With a nod, I survey my dinner guests. Bunny sits with her back straight and her pert nose in the air. It’s as if she belongs here as my equal instead of my toy. I want to show her that she’s trash. Hired fucking trash.

“Right, sir?”

Dubois’ voice jerks me from my sinister thoughts and I nod even though I have no fucking idea what he just said. He frowns at me. Escaping his gaze, I flit my eyes over to Glenna. The woman once tried to seduce me. I guess she thought she’d marry herself right into my empire. Dumb bitch got written up instead. Ever since, she’s been nothing but professional. I gave her a raise last year but not the kind she’d wanted. I’m pretty sure she’s moved on to the next best thing in her eyes.

Trevor McMahon.

I’m about to say something vicious to him when I notice the sling around her shoulder.

“Did you hurt yourself?” I question out of morbid curiosity, not concern.

She nods and bats her eyelashes in a flirtatious manner. “I tore my rotator cuff in a tennis accident. I’m still healing from the surgery two weeks ago.”

“Tell me why profits were down this quarter despite an increase in our customer base according to my analysis. I’ve studied the spreadsheets all damn day and I can’t seem to come up with the numbers you three have presented me.” Glenna goes from trying to look sexy to escaping my angry scowl, turning her attention to Jamal. He of course starts babbling about operational costs and employee salaries. Blah, blah, fucking blah.

I quickly lose interest and drag my gaze back over to Bunny. She listens attentively and for a brief moment my chest puffs out with pride. My other toys are usually bored when we talk business. Bunny appears interested and the tiny frown on her face tells me she doesn’t believe one single word Jamal is spewing. That makes two of us. When she glances at me, I wink at her. I don’t mean to, but I want her to know I approve of how well she’s doing. This seems to please her and she turns her attention back to my CFO with a fierce determination to understand.

“Okay,” a high-pitched voice chirps. “I found some wine.”

I lift a brow to see a mousy doe-eyed woman donning a uniform much like Christine’s carrying two bottles of my finest chardonnay. Christine had told me about the braised beef short ribs she’d cooked. My palate shrivels up in disgust at having chardonnay with this dinner.

“Name,” I thunder.

Everyone grows silent as I glare at the young servant. “Uh, uh, Stephanie.”

“Do you think chardonnay goes with our meal? What are we having for dessert?”

The terrified mouse of a woman shudders under my angry stare. “Um, dark chocolate mousse pie.”

Bunny lets out a disappointed sigh and stands. Her touch is soft on my arm and her look is one of assurance. “I’ll bring us something that pairs better.”

I want to tell the stupid bitch to sit down but she seems so sure of herself. “Is that so, Bunny? Do you even know where the wine closet is? There isn’t any Budweiser in there.”

She shakes her head at me in annoyance and glides away to help the servant. Before she gets too far away, I threaten her. “You seem awfully sure of yourself, woman. Choose wisely or there’ll be hell to pay.”

The table grows quiet around me. They all know better than to mess with me during one of my moods. And right now, I’m really fucking moody.

“Carry on. Explain some more of your bullshit reasons as to why we’re showing a loss. Remember, this is the only chance to enlighten me before I say my piece. I suggest you really know what you’re fucking talking about,” I hiss out the moment Bunny is gone.

Trevor begins his flawless defense against their work. I listen but I’m not paying attention. No, I’m waiting like a stalking lion. Waiting for the smart little bunny with all sorts of tricks up her sleeve to return with the dumb field mouse. The moment they return with the erroneous selection, I’m going to go fucking ballistic. I will eat that servant for lunch and make sure she doesn’t get hired by anyone for a long damn time. And Bunny? She’s going into the Hole tonight.

My rage festers inside of me to the point that my vision ripples with black hate. Memories of my past swirl around me and I want to hurt someone. Anyone. I attempt to harness the fury that’s eating me alive by drawing my fingers into tight fists. I’m a ticking bomb—just waiting for the slip up so I can explode.