The Toy Boy (6 page)

“Don’t stop touching yourself.” He held his cock and positioned it at her entrance, coaxing the tight bud to open for him. She scurried up the bed as he pushed deeper.

“Stay.”

Her fingers flew across her clit when he went an inch deeper, and then her body turned rigid. Her breathing stopped. “Relax, Cait. You can take me.”

She nodded, her lip swelling from between her teeth. The passage into her drove him crazy. The power to contain his will left him exhausted. And still he had about a palm’s length left to enter her. He pushed again, caressing her breasts as he did. So little more. The last segment of his cock craved full penetration. He pulled at her pussy lips. She rocketed off the bed and yelped in the most gorgeous way. He dipped his fingers into her at the same moment he completed the journey into her ass.

Her skin paled. Her hand lay limp at her side now.

“Feel me inside you, sweetheart.” He removed his fingers, picked up her hand, and brought it to her pussy. He guided her inside her wetness, until he felt the hardness of his cock through the silky thin lining of her body. He left her fingers there and clasped her hips. He couldn’t hold off much longer. “Can you feel me, so deep inside you?” She started to writhe, the sting of bridging her ass forgotten. She waded up and down the bed slowly, setting a pace that threatened his sanity.

“Touch your clit with your other hand. I need to fuck you. Now.”

Sweat drizzled down his body, and droplets fell onto hers and merged into the gleam of her own skin. He withdrew and then re-entered, over and over, shattering her resistance with each plunge. Her legs opened wider. Her pussy swelled right in front of him as she fucked herself with both her hands. Pure bliss veiled her eyes.

And still he felt he couldn’t get close enough to her. He sucked the vanilla-scented flesh of her calf. His own hand joined hers deep in the depths of her sex. He wanted to feel what she felt, him inside her. His cock jerked. Cum sprang from his over-strained head. She convulsed at the sensation of having her ass pumped, the pounding of his fingers and hers in her pussy, and the stimulation of her clit. She screamed. The veins in her neck strained against her skin as both their climaxes rushed into each other. He leaned over her. She kissed his eyebrows, his cheeks, his jaw, and his lips. Her tongue slipped between the seam of his mouth; his cock inside her twitched one last time. Her legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him locked within her.

He loved her. It had to be love or else why would she be such a constant thought in his head? Everything about her, from the way she smelled to her dainty feet. He loved the gloss on her skin and the iridescent blue of her eyes, her mouth with its lush pink lips, her stubbornness, her laughter, and that dark decisive pleasure she got in her gaze when she felt as if she beat him. He knew what he wanted and he wanted Cait. He’d loved her for so long and had waited so patiently to come back for her. And now she sheltered his cock inside her, she got wet for him, and she shuddered when he kissed her.

He could take care of her. She needed to trust him. She was everything to him. He just had to make her accept it.

Chapter 6

Cait sighed in pleasure as he slipped from her ass and strolled into her bathroom. Gosh, he was gorgeous. Every beautiful inch of him stunned her whenever she looked at him, her attention drawn to him without any help from her.

The tenderness between her legs was a constant reminder of how thoroughly he took her. Heights she’d never imagined existed, pleasures she wanted to experience repeatedly. A wish she could never grant herself. They might have amazing chemistry between the sheets, but outside of it? Their relationship would be doomed.

She had an already established position in life, an important job, and two degrees behind her name. She looked for someone on a similar level as she was—a professional with an ordered life. He would never fit into her life. He still needed to find himself. She knew he did something with computers, at least that’s what everyone said. But even erasing all that from her lists of cons, the most important one still prevailed. They were and would always be at different parts of their lives, one their difference in age would never be able to gap.

And then there was the gossip and her work and her family. Her father had blamed her for her relationship with Dean not working out. Dean had been the apple of his eye. The perfect man to marry his youngest daughter and take over his prestigious law practice. Both her parents would have collective heart attacks if she brought home a younger man with tattoos, who worked with computers, and drove around in scraps of metal pieced together to form a vehicle. She wondered where Declan kept his car when he was in the States, because according to Mrs. Meyer he loved that heap of metal. But oh, those tattoos, depictions of dragons at war that stole her breath away. No, her father would disown her, and at thirty-four she still cared about such things.

She shifted onto her side, facing away from the bathroom door. Sadness washed over her at the thought of him leaving in two days, and it took all her power to snap it in half and fling it aside. She knew what she was getting into with him from the start: a three-day sexual tryst, nothing more. Bottom line, she wouldn’t disappoint her family. Not again. And really this must be as much a fling for her as it was for him. He’d walk away without getting emotionally attached to her, and she should and could do the same. For all she knew he probably had a girlfriend back home, maybe several. Envy squeezed at her heart. She would never be able to compete with someone younger and more eager for his attention, not when she had a ten-year head start.

When he slipped in beside her, his nakedness spooning her, all depressing thoughts sizzled to ashes. She turned around to face him.

“What do you do?” Her fingers traced the contours of his face, his high cheekbones, the sexy square of his jaw, his lips.

“I make Cait come.” He nuzzled her throat and she laughed.

“Yes, you do, but for a living, what do you in the States?”

“I design games.” He shifted onto his back and gathered her into his arms.

“Really? What kind of games?”

“I doubt you’ll know any.”

“Hey, my cousin’s twelve-year-old nephew is a gamer, I’ll have you know. Try me.”

“Ever heard about Chronicles of Combat?”

“I think everyone on this planet has. Wait, you designed that?”

“Yeah. You know those two little letters that appear on the cover of all the Chronicles of Combat?”

“The logo of the company who designed those games.” She remembered seeing the letters dm on the covers of most of her nephew’s games that littered his room.
dm.

“Dm—Declan Meyer? Oh, my word, you’re a millionaire. But you’re so…”

“What? I don’t walk around with money bags attached around my waist?” he asked, dragging her onto his body. His cock was a pillar of stone against her tummy.

“But your aunt would have definitely said something.”

“She doesn’t know. It’s not something I go around telling people. It doesn’t help me in any way. Well, most of the time not.”

“But you told me.”

“In this case telling you might help me.”

“How so?”

“Will you let me fuck you again now that you know I’m stinking rich
and
good looking?”

She gasped, staring at this enigma before her. A self-made man at the age of twenty-four. What did he have to prove so urgently?

“How did you get that scar?” Her nail traced the faint line from the top of his hairline down to his left eye. It cut across his eyebrow leaving behind a smooth gash. He rubbed at it absently.

“My dad.”

The coldness of his admission shocked her.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was four years old and I couldn’t take watching him beat the crap out of my mother anymore. I tried to stop him. He sliced this old dagger of his down my face. But it was the one thing that made my mother pack and leave him for good. The very next week she enrolled me in a karate class. She wanted to know I could protect myself. I haven’t stopped doing karate since.”

Her heart broke at the thought of him being so young and having gone through so much. A stabbing of protectiveness riddled her. She, protect him? It always felt the other way around. And there it was again, that feeling of falling for him. She lowered her eyelids, hoping to hide her feelings from him. She couldn’t change the dynamics of their fling—that was social suicide. He was younger. She was older. Inappropriate according to the standards she lived by, standards her father and his status demanded.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” The clenching of his jaw warned away her pity.

“Are you kidding me? You’re a millionaire who knows how to break my neck in five different places in ten different ways with your pinkie, no less.”

She laughed as he bulldozed her beneath him, laying the bottom half of his weight over her, balancing on his arms so he didn’t crush her. Her fingertips stroked the supple strength in his arms. His entire body was one sleek fighting machine, his masculinity never shadowed, his power always prevalent but hidden. He made her feel safe.

His cock browsed her constant wet opening. The tip just a little inside her.

“I’m clean,” he whispered in her ear. She stiffened. Having unprotected sex with him singed her very last nerve. Having him glide in her naked took her breath away. She was clean too; heck, she hadn’t sex in over a year and she was still on the pill, more for regulatory reasons than unexpected sexual encounters.

“I know you’re clean too. I’ve never had unprotected sex with anyone in my life before. But with you, Cait, I want to make love to you like this.”

In the last two days he’d seduced her so thoroughly, even when he wasn’t touching her or making her come, and he still seduced her guard into lowering itself, into revealing herself. But after this, she had to send him away.

She raised her hips, inviting him in. He slipped through her nakedness, creating a different kind of heat as he edged in deeper.

Without breaking his hold on her pussy, he curled his hands under her ass, draping her over his lap as he raised himself up into a kneeling position between her thighs. He gripped her left leg, bent her knee to her chest, and brought her foot to his chest. Her other leg rested on his thigh, high up in the air. He cupped her knee with one hand and held her foot with the other, so embedded inside her she became a part of him, his claim that strong. For one crazy moment, she basked in the expression of his beautiful eyes. His intention was clear, honest, real. Positioned that way, he dominated her, towered over her with his masculinity, controlled her, and owned her. He took his place and made her his subject and kept her there, challenging her, daring her to try and overpower him. Sweet fear and a rush of excitement skirted the air around her, and he hadn’t even started moving inside her pussy.

“Age is just a number, sweetheart.” The warning inched bit by bit into her consciousness. He had something to prove and he’d prove it his way. Her fingers clutched the white satin duvet on her bed. His hips rocked into her, a confident thrust that had her sliding up the softness of the bedcover—again, again, again. The head of his cock hammered lusciously inside her. Her G-spot swelled and juices oozed out of her, escaping from the folds of her pussy, hugging his cock, and dripped onto the bed, a stream he interrupted with each authoritative thrust of his cock. Her clit pulsated as he pinched it, and then polished it with his thumb. She slipped and fell and gave in to her body, to him. Her climax rattled out of her, clutching around him. He threw his head back and groaned.

The thumps of his heartbeat sent shivers from her foot up to her leg; just another sensation that overloaded her mind. Her knuckles whitened, she knew, without looking at them, but she needed something to ground her, something to anchor her from splintering apart, from falling deeper into the other end: the end and the beginning that was him. But he wouldn’t allow her that safety net. Why did she think he would?

He moved her leg to his waist and covered her body with his. One at a time, he uncurled her fingers from the brutal hold she had around the fabric.

“I want you.” As soon as her hand was freed of the bedcover, she swung her arm around his shoulder. He repeated the same with her other hand. She reacted the same way. Both her arms fastened around his neck. A sob smarted in her throat. Tears she didn’t ask for welled in the corners of her eyes and spilled against his cheek. This wasn’t what she wanted. They could never be together.

“You’re mine.” She couldn’t rebuff his command, but she had no coherent mechanism to tell him otherwise. For now, she had to be his. His cock surged inside her, sinking into her wetness. She pulled him down, and still he kept his balance on his arms, always so careful that his weight didn’t crush her, forcing her to hang onto him as he made love to her, slowly, deliberately, absolutely. Tears rolled from her eyes into her hair. Her shoulders jerked as she cried silently into his shoulder, the orgasm he so meticulously asked of her escaped her, and instead of afterglow she felt the pain of loss in her chest.

“I love you, Cait. I’ve always loved you.” He balanced on one arm, his hand spanned under the lower part of her back, raising her to him as he emptied himself inside her. “I love you.” His lips lowered to hers. She shifted her head away from him. For a few desperate minutes he didn’t say anything, didn’t move inside her, didn’t remove himself from her. Then in one fluid motion he was gone, his back to her.

“I think you should leave.” She hardened her voice around the lump in her throat. No, she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him to stay with her forever, here in this room away from what other people might think of her.

“Why, because I love you?”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Deal? What deal? You mean the one where I fucked your brains out for three whole days and quietly leave so you can go back to your life as if nothing happened?”

Blood rushed to her face at the truth of his words. How could he know her mind so intimately when she’d never let anything slip out?