The Toy Boy (3 page)

With his other hand he picked the Curious Coition bag from the chair. Dammit, if she had been thinking properly, she could have taken back what was becoming her worst buy yet.

“Pick me up at three.”

“What?”

“The wedding tomorrow. Pick me up at three.”

“I most certainly am not going to the wedding with you. I don’t want to have anything to do with you at all. Don’t you get it?”

“Oh, I do. I get it loud and clear. You want me. You want me to fuck you from behind, you want me to pull your hair as I make you eat my cum.” He closed the distance between them. The air around her disappeared. She forced herself not to fidget, not to plead with him to finish what he started. “I’ve seen you watching me, Cait. I know your body goes all hot for me. But why settle for this,” he raised the bag, “when I can give you the real thing and so much more?”

“Because … because if I wanted to the real thing I would have went out and found a man who is—”

“What? More age appropriate? Is that the only thing keeping me from fucking you?”

“There doesn’t have to be anything else. It’s a valid enough reason that can stand on its own.” She couldn’t avoid the break in her voice. More age appropriate made her sound ninety but she wasn’t twenty either.

“Are you afraid of what people might think?”

“God, yes.” She charged away from him. She could only take so much of his closeness before her hormones started to plot against her.

“It’s just a number, Cait.”

“And that’s just such a cliché way of looking at it. Nothing can come of this. I’m ten years older than you, and I won’t ever, ever date a man who is younger than I am.” The idea demolished her ideal romance, a romance spun by fairytales from a very young age where her prince charming was always older than her. So Dean wasn’t her prince charming, and maybe if she put herself out there, she’d find her true prince charming, but he certainly wasn’t younger than her. She had to set him straight immediately. “You’re wasting your time with me, Declan.”

An enigmatic shield veiled his features.

“It doesn’t change anything. Pick me up at three.” He strode toward the door, her package in one hand, his other on her doorknob.

“And if I don’t?”

He turned around to face her without relinquishing his hold of the door handle. “In that case I might be forced to catch a flight out of South Africa. But don’t worry, I’ll leave this with my aunt. I’m sure she won’t have any problem returning it to you.”

Chapter 3

Cait stared at herself in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. So what made today any different from any other day? Well, today she was going to a wedding with Declan Meyer, not because she wanted to, but because he had expertly blackmailed her into it, which didn’t fully explain the constant inspection of herself.

She didn’t discount his promise to leave her little package with his aunt, and as good-natured at Mrs. Meyer was, snooping and gossiping were her favorite pastimes. She could just imagine the woman’s horror as she opened the bag and found a killer sized fake cock in it with Cait’s name engraved on it. She would probably give herself a heart attack, and Cait would be known as the new street freak, a terrible blow to her sparkling reputation.

Well, this wasn’t a date. No, this was merely a means to get back what was hers; her peace and her dignity and preserve the good reputation she earned by never stepping out of line. The sooner she said good-bye to Declan, the quicker her life could resume to normal.

The specially bought cream-colored silk dress with red roses embossed around the hem fell mid-thigh, and no matter how much pulling she did it never got any longer. Nothing else in her closet would work for the summer afternoon wedding of her next-door neighbor, Annaline. Annaline had planned the wedding for a year and chose the lush and beautiful venue along a glittering lake for her special day. Besides, the single hat she now owned courtesy of an attire prerequisite inscribed in the invitation matched only that dress.

Without fussing anymore, she grabbed her hat and purse and pulled her car out of the driveway. She parked in the front of the Meyers’ quaint manor style house and honked her horn twice before Declan came out. His aunt would have left much earlier in the day to help with the catering.

Cait’s body jumped to attention remembering the feel of his inquisitive fingers finding her climax. How quickly he’d found that spot. How hard she came for him. And how crazily she needed more. More of him.

Shut up.
Her command fell on deaf ears. Her body hummed as he neared.

He sauntered down the rose-flanked pathway, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. The tailored fit of his jacket draped his broad shoulders lovingly. He wore the gray suit with casual elegance. Sans a tie, the stark white of his shirt, two buttons undone, revealed the youthful tan of his chest with just a smudge of his tattoo and enough of a splattering of satiny hair to increase the hotness between her legs. He came toward the driver seat, opened her door, and waited.

“What?” she asked, giving her irritation permission to shine through and infect him with its sting. Either that or look at him with a schoolgirl giggle on her lips and a woman-sized sigh of lust between her legs.

“Move over. I’m driving.”

Could he be any more arrogant? She stuffed her dress in one hand and scooted over. The silver in his eyes draped themselves over her legs without a hint of shyness. Immediately, she regretted not getting out of the car and walking to the passenger side instead. No. Wait. What? She should be regretting allowing him to get his way at all. Too late for that now.

He unfolded his lithe frame into her car, pushed the seat all the way back to accommodate his long legs, and drove off. She remained quiet, hoping he received her silence as indifference and nothing more. She turned away from him and looked out the window at the scenic Cape wine lands spread before her; the sun a soft ball of orange in the sky. Sights she usually took solace in now failed in helping her center herself. Declan Meyer more than consumed her; he got under her skin and overpowered her. What was she going to do with him?

“What exactly were you doing in that shop anyway?”

“Rita is an old friend of mine. I helped her with an online ad. Are you going to sulk the whole day?” he asked, tilting his head toward her, his attention off the road.

“You know grown-ups tend to leave their school-bullying tactics … at school. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m the only grown-up in the car, so you’re forgiven. There, there.”

His way-too-sexy laugh teased her ears and brought a hot glow to her insides. She wished she could tape his mouth closed. She wished she could tape her eyes shut. The sight of him paralyzed her morals, which she had to admit were already on slippery ground, heading toward a sinkhole, never to be found or replaced.
Gosh, could he do that to me?

“I can play grown-up games too, Ms. Daniels.”

“I doubt that.”

“Try me.”

And therein lay the problem. She wanted to try him, everywhere on her body, inside and out, and all around, once, twice, thrice. The challenge in his voice excited her and scared her, but didn’t he know she was all words and no work? She’d carved her life out of a very narrow lane and never diverged off that path. Except that now she dodged potholes, which came in the form of the epitome of sexiness.

“Fine, I’ll try you … if only to humor you. Would that make you happy?” She smiled at him like she would her nieces and nephews. She hoped he understood her condescending nurturing tone, the one she used on people younger than her, less experienced, mere babies.

“Take your panties off.”

And poof. He bulldozed her approach and sent her rocketing off course again.

She nipped her rebuttal in her throat, the one where she displayed her outrage. The soft and hoarse instruction sank into her blood and staggered her breathing.

Who did he think he was? Did he think he could scare her off with a few sexual innuendos? Did he want her to get all uppity and prudish and demand he not speak to her that way? Adrenaline rushed through the cords of her nerves robbing her of common sense. Well, she’d show him she could play grown-up games better than him because she was a grown-up.

“You know little boys shouldn’t play with fires they can’t put out,” she said as she raised her ass off the seat and dragged her panties down her legs and over her feet. If she shocked him by her compliance with his ridiculous order, he showed nothing of it. She handed him her warm panties. He brought it to his nose before he slipped it into his pocket.

She tried not to think about her impulsive counter action to his blatant command. Instead she neatened the hem of her skirt repeatedly until the weight of his grin snapped her attention back at him. She yanked her hands away from her dress and folded them over her heavy breasts. She refused to give him the benefit of her discomfort. She was thirty-four years old, so she didn’t play sex games with Dean, but she read books and she could imitate the sport with the best of them, surely.

But the discomfort he pulled out of her was not in an awkward unwanted way; no, the type of discomfort he dished out raised her temperature and turned her body into a treacherous little sex kitten. He toyed with her reserved nature, turned her tight iron rule into mush, and enjoyed every second of it. Why did she give him so much power over her?

Was it because she knew he was booked to leave the country three days from today? Oh, yes, pretending innocence, she had sneakily asked his aunt, who came by earlier that morning to collect her tray, exactly how long her nephew planned on visiting her in Cape Town. Cait quickly shoved aside her momentary slip of disappointment when she discovered the short length of his vacation, assuring herself she felt relief at his return back home and was not in the least disappointed.

Is that why she gave in to him so easily now? So he could help her get rid of this fierce sexual thirst he provoked inside her, and then leave never to be seen again? She could have a fling … with a younger man. Who would know? No one. She’d make it her business to keep it discreet and stay undiscovered. What was wrong with that? It’s not like she had designed to run away with him. She’d keep her head while giving her body what it wanted for the first time in her life.

A thrill of excitement circled her spine as she glanced at his hands gripping the steering wheel. Understated strength exuded from every angle of his body, casual but dangerous, pretty much like how he drove. Fast but in control of her Mercedes Benz as if it were a plastic toy, he played with his fingers while sipping hot tea. She stole a quick glimpse of his profile. He’d been staring at her all that time. Their gazes collided. Her breath depressed and disappeared into nothingness. At that moment she knew she’d obey his every wish, no matter what it was. Caution, her old friend, escaped her. Recklessness, the likes she’d never allowed herself to feel before, took the reins and steered her toward him. This young man with the ability to make her body explode, but one whose talents she also capped with an expiration date as far as his presence in her life went. Three days.

Her lips curved into a smile. He must have read her mind because his eyes darkened with brutal hunger. The road ahead of them vanished as they whizzed over it. He didn’t decrease his speed. She didn’t care that if they crashed, this new live-for-the-moment Cait, or more accurately live-for-the-next-seventy-two-hours Cait, cared about nothing but Declan Meyer’s cock inside her, pumping her full of cum. Probing her, filling her. Declan ordering her to kneel before him while he whipped her mouth with his cock. Sleek heat spread from between her thighs. Thousands of tiny spasms teased her clit. She could actually smell her sex.

“When I fuck you, and I will, I’m going to make you scream my name, babe.” He swung his attention back to the road, in time to take a bend around a mountain. She couldn’t bear the ache in her pussy any longer. She needed to shift the ache, ease a bit of her tension riding up and down her flesh. She squeezed her thighs tightly together.

“Open your legs.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Some normal functioning recess of her brain confirmed they were the only commuters on the road. Her legs spread apart. Her fingers itched to touch herself.

“Don’t,” he said. A plea beckoned from her throat but died as he adjusted the air conditioner vents on the dashboard. “Lift your dress up.” She did as she was told. A gush of cold air rushed toward her. She gasped at the cold intrusion fanning her hot pussy. She gyrated her hips, wanting so madly to catch a breeze strong enough to extract an orgasm from her clit, but it remained elusive.

“I want to come,” she begged without shame.

“Only when I say you can. Close your legs.”

He switched off the air conditioner. His large calloused hand swept across her thigh as he lowered her dress over her legs once more. That tiny touch from him left her mindless. Her pussy felt hotter, wetter, hungrier. She dropped her gaze on his cock and shuddered. His trousers had tented to accommodate his erect cock. She licked her lips. Blazing want surged through her.

“You haven’t done enough yet to earn my cock,” he said without even looking at her or knowing she had gaped at his cock. She bit her lip to control the quiver. She hadn’t been this turned on, this mad with want, in forever, and he hadn’t even touched her yet or she him.

Reality sneaked up on her as the venue for the wedding came into view. She swallowed to dissipate the dryness in her throat. The whole street on which she lived would be in attendance; they were a friendly lot to say the least. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone walked in and out of everyone else’s houses, and never a scandal livened up their lives. Nope, they were all merry and happy-go-lucky, and right now she didn’t belong in that decent community.

She fiddled with her dress and her hair, and dammit what could she do about her wet pussy? She certainly couldn’t go in there dripping from between her legs. Tissues. She needed tissues, but she forgot to put a wad into her purse.