The Toy Boy (4 page)

“I need my underwear back,” she said, flipping open the glove compartment and scrambling for a tissue. She needed to wipe away the moisture there and put on her panties before they entered the crowd already gathered in the parking spaces reserved for them. “Quickly.”

He tore the tissue from her hand.

“You’re not getting your panties back, and you’re not cleaning up your pussy.”

“Declan, please—” This went out of her range of adult games.

He’d already parked the car, smack between two other guests who had just arrived.
Great, just great.

“Your panties stay in my pocket.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “And your pussy stays wet.” He swung the driver’s door open, rounded the car, and opened her door.

She sat still for a few seconds, resisting the urge to hyperventilate, trying to absorb what was happening to her and who orchestrated all these splendid sexual feelings in her. And then she looked at him, patiently waiting for her to tell him she couldn’t play the game, she wasn’t rigged like that, and prove in one horrible swoop he played grown-up games better than she did. Did she really want to end the roller-coaster ride he sent her on minus a safety harness? Did she want to stop playing with him? She felt the right answer in her bones and decided donkeys may fly before she gave up on him any time sooner than at the end of the next three days.

Chapter 4

Long, shapely legs peeked out of the car, those red stilettos a stake to his already overworked and under-released cock. He saw the internal war in her eyes. He also saw that hot little Ms. Daniels hated losing or being wrong. She rose to the occasion each time he challenged her. He just hoped he held himself together until the time when she came to him, giving him her body not because of a game, but because her next breath depended on it.

He wanted her like that: wild, crazy, intense. He wanted her soul and her heart, but a niggling feeling planted itself in his head. Would she see past his age and accept him as the man he was? He hated not being sure about anything in his life. He had to have a goal, a plan, and an outcome. Cait Daniels wreaked havoc in his way of thinking because nothing was sure with her. She wasn’t a done deal. She’d find some other silly reason to keep them apart. But good for him he knew all about changing tactics at the last possible minute. He had to have her in his bed, night after night after night. Nothing would keep him from that goal.

“Oh, I forgot my purse.” She bent over seductively, giving him a glimpse of her bare ass as she retrieved her purse, and then purposefully bumped into him, her ass nestling nicely into his throbbing and quickly growing cock for a second longer than necessary. He caught her arm as she tried to move away, holding her against his body, letting her feel the rising hardness she caused.

“Think you can handle me?” he asked in her ear. Silky strands of hair tickled his face. Light wisps of her perfume, so subtle yet so potent to his senses, drilled circles around his mind. He wanted her so bad he could taste her.

“I’ve handled real men before, you shouldn’t be rocket science.” She sashayed away from him, already greeting other guests milling toward the gazebo set out for the wedding. She chose her seat in the middle of the makeshift hall between an elderly gentleman and a young girl. He was forced to take a seat at the other end, but nothing quelled the smell of her from his fingertips, not even the feet that separated them. He slipped his hand inside his pocket and caressed her panties as the bride walked down the aisle and met her groom. He paid scant attention to the ceremony itself. His gaze remained fixed on Cait.

As soon as the couple were declared man and wife, and everyone started tossing confetti their way, he picked his cell from his other pocket and texted her. Lifting her number from his aunt’s phone ranked as part of his plan. He read the surprise in her eyes as the phone in her purse vibrated, and the shock as she read his message. She jerked her head up to look at him directly. He held her attention, making his intention as clear as the text stated. He wanted to suck her wet pussy now.

He waited a couple more seconds and then made sure she saw him heading toward the exit of the tent. He slipped through the white flaps, his cock swelling again with hot blood. He licked his lips in anticipation. Would she come to him?

Five minutes later, the fabric door parted and she stepped out. Relief increased the adrenaline already firing up his body. He took her hand and dragged her toward the forest at the lake’s edge.

“Declan, where are we going?” she asked, out of breath behind him. He swung her around, removed his jacket, draped it over her shoulders, and pushed her against a tree, mere feet away from where the bride and groom received congratulatory wishes from the rest of the guests under the concealment of a tent. Soon they would all emerge and take up the seats set out before elaborately laid tables. The only other people around were the catering staff.

“Someone will see us—”

“Shh.”

He dropped to his knees before her, lifted her leg, and arranged it over his shoulder. The fragrance of her overwhelmed him. He dipped his head between her thighs and flicked his tongue across her swollen, dripping, hot wetness. She gasped and clutched his shoulders.

“Oh, God…”

He nudged aside the folds of her pussy and then thrust into the middle of her sex with one strong, slow push. He lapped at cream, his for the taking, quenching a thirst he never felt for any other woman. Her clit throbbed against his tongue. She rubbed her pussy in his face, her hips jerking away from him, toward him.

He knew he blew her mind and that she’d do anything to come for him. And he wanted that. He wanted her to cream in his mouth. He wanted her essence to flood his nerves and his cells. He wanted to possess her from the inside out.

He grasped her ass, tilting her pelvis forward for him to deepen the strokes of his tongue as he fucked her with his mouth. His fingers squeezed apart her ass, exposing her to the slight summer breeze that circled around them. One of Cait’s hands threaded through his hair, pulling at the root of his strands. He sucked the whole of her. Pumping her. Demanding she leave behind common sense and fly apart here and now, where anyone could see her standing there with his face in her cunt, grinding into her sopping wet pussy.

He lifted his gaze to her face. She closed her eyes, thick lashes spanning against her glossy skin. Her lips trembled. She was so close. He could tease her forever, giving her enough to reach the tip of that place and then take it away and let her fall to bottom and start over.

“Please, I want to come. Now.”

“Say my name.”

“Declan—” What started as a whisper turned into a raw muffled cry as his mouth did her in and an orgasm stormed out of her. He held her thighs, quivering and weak at the knees, and kept her from crumbling to the earth. But her period of recovery was short-lived. He moved them out of sight before the waiter, taking a cigarette break, could have spotted them.

She stalled behind him. Guests had started emerging from the tent.

“Wait, I can’t go back there now.”

“No?”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” she whispered, her flushed face turning another shade pinker. “I’m an absolute mess. I need a few minutes to … clean up.”

“No chance of that happening.” He removed his jacket from her shoulders and slipped back into it. Walking backward away from him her, he said, “The only thing that’s a mess is your pussy, and that’s a lovely mess. I want you to keep it that way.”

“But I feel as if I smell like sex.”

“You smell like mine.” He spun around and entered the stream of guests as if he were a part of them from the get go.

*

Dear God, he was a sadist. Cait hesitated between proving this was child’s play to her, or going around the other way, getting into her car, and skipping the country. Well, she’d made her bed, so she might as well lie in it. She patted down her hair, straightened her dress, and carefully, slowly, with as minimal movement as possible, stammered her way into the heart of the party. She snatched a glass of champagne off a waiter and gulped it down. Dammit, she wished her vision would level itself out; she was still seeing stars all in the shape of the most erotic orgasm she ever had, ever. If anyone decided to talk to her boobs instead of her face, they’d see the glow on her skin and the heave of her breasts as her heart refused to beat properly.

No, she felt like a woman thoroughly mouth-fucked. How could she not look like one too? She chose to grin and bear it as her means of survival. So what if she left a trail of cum juice in her wake. Oh, dear God,
no.
She hastily found the seat with her name on it and shuddered to discover she was destined to eat next to Declan. She plonked herself on the satin covered seat, jumped up, and draped her napkin over the seat. She should have used his instead.

“Worried you might leave a wet spot?” The voice brushed against her ear so expertly no one would have known he whispered words into her ear as he took his seat. She reached for her drink, a measured action that gave her time to reevaluate herself and him.

“Well, I did come very hard for you, didn’t I? I’ll be surprised if my dress stays dry,” she whispered. For a brief second she knocked the cocky grin off his face but brought out an even more dangerous glint to his eyes.

“If you think that’s hard, you should try my cock.”

She lifted her glass to him. “Perhaps I will.”

“Hi Cait, how have you been? It’s been a long time since I saw you last.”

Cait turned her head to the woman who had taken a seat opposite her. Maria Castel’s bright smile and perfect curls bobbed at her. She liked Maria, although the woman who lived three doors down from her house enjoyed a good gossip now and again, much like Mrs. Meyer.

“Maria, I’ve been good, thanks. Work keeps me busy. How are you?”

“Lovely, just lovely. I’m sorry, you’re Mrs. Meyer’s young nephew, right, visiting from New York? I’m Maria Castel.” She reached her hand across the table. Declan stood and shook it.

“Declan.”

“Well, Declan, it’s a pleasure to meet you. So are the two of you here together?”

“No,” she blurted out.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I gave Declan a lift because Mrs. Meyer had to leave early to help with the … catering.” A warm, large hand drifted over her thigh, the tips of his fingers stroking her cold flesh, inching closer to where all her warmth huddled.

She flicked his hand away and scooted as far on the left of the chair as she could. She wanted her time with Declan to be private and end without any drama. Even an innocent rumor about them could cause drama she didn’t want or need.

“Oh, of course. Well, do enjoy your meal. I believe the food is wonderful. And you must come for coffee one day soon.”

Cait ate in silence. She wanted to go home with Declan and have him ravish her. And then she wanted to forget him and move on with her life. This sex game in public was getting to her. Too many people looked at him with some sort of awed interest, and always being close to him by his doing meant she was included in that picture. Luckily for her, Maria kept Declan engaged in constant conversation, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally feeling her up. The minute he took his hand away, she shivered and hated her body’s dependence on him to keep warm.

Once their meal ended, she wasted no time in distancing herself from him. Again her luck panned out when he kept getting lured into conversation by serious-talking men and women who wanted to throw themselves at his feet. She rolled her eyes at him when a young stunning blonde, no more than twenty years old, latched herself to him.

The acknowledgement that something similar to jealousy stirred in her heart annoyed her. She had no business getting jealous about the many women who ate him alive with their eyes. She wanted his body; she wanted to fuck his body, and then be done with it. Easy, peasy. Who he did after her, she didn’t care. And he wanted her, of course he did. He never took his eyes off her. Not once. And the ache in her pussy only doubled.

When the sun started to set, the mellow music provided by a live band, playing softly in the background before, took center stage now. The bride and groom graced their audience with a dance, and then soon other couples filled the specially erected stage.

Her heart stopped beating for a moment as he walked toward her. Did he have to be so distractingly gorgeous?

“Dance with me.” His smooth proposal mingled in the notes of the placid music.

“No.”

She couldn’t dance with him in public. That would be like broadcasting that he had her panties in his pocket and she had the imprint of his mouth on her pussy. Frustration kicked her in the ribs when he turned away without a fight, without propositioning her into doing his bidding. Instead he asked Maria Castel to dance. The gleam of joy in her eyes was enough to make Cait want to hurl her maraschino ice-cream.

But he didn’t stop there. He asked the stunning blonde next, and then seventy-two-year-old Mrs. Gotfield, and his aunt, and then some cute little five-year-old with flowers in her hair and lace socks on her legs.

“Now will you dance with me?”

She couldn’t contain her smile if she injected her lips with dentist drugs. She placed her hand in his and an electric charge surged through her. She knew his touch. Only hours after knowing it, she’d recognize it anywhere, blindfolded or in her sleep.

He brought her between his legs, his hand spanned the lower part of her spine, and his other curled around her fingers and rested it against his chest. The strong steady beat of his heart comforted her. She felt safe cocooned in his arms. The people around her dispersed and disappeared from her mind and sight. She breathed in his scent, understated, a mingling of defiance and musk, juvenescence and man.

“We fit,” he said, pulling her closer.

Her body slid into him. She ached to run her hand through the silky thickness of his black hair. To pull him closer to her lips, to taste his mouth. He did strange things to her.

“Why didn’t you dance with anyone?”