Pretty Perfect Toy - Angel Payne Page 0,6

throbs harder between our bodies.

He groans.

I gasp.

He growls.

I mewl.

And the last six weeks fall away…replacing the agony of our abstinence with a flare as bright, perfect, and electric as the first time we ever drove our gazes into each other like this—

And knew our bodies were soon to follow.

I no longer yearn to soothe away the tension from his face. I scoop my fingers in, savoring all its magnificence. The forceful lines at the corners of his glittering eyes. The tension framing his nose, flared with the breaths of his arousal. Even the defined hills of his lips, parted to show me his locked, white teeth.

The look intensifies as he pulls his hand from my sex—and redirects it between his own legs. In one twist, he unbuttons himself. In another, takes care of his zipper.

Only then does my voice find its way past the brushfire of my arousal. “We—we cannot. Doctor Rudd said you needed six weeks after the shooting to—”

“Fuck Doctor Rudd.”

A heated breath staggers out as I watch him shove down his black briefs—and take his beautiful shaft in hand. “I would rather fuck you, Mr. Court.”

“That can be arranged, Miss Santelle.” One side of his mouth kicks up in a grim smirk. Disappears beneath a sensual grimace, as he works the milky drops at his tip along his heavily veined length. “With one important change.”

“Ch-change?” I struggle to remain focused. By the Creator…so much of this man is flawless, but his penis has to be the most perfect part of him. I have certainly not seen thousands in my lifetime—but growing up with a boy-crazy kinkster for a best friend has certainly yielded some special fringe benefits. After helping Vy ogle many on-line crotches, I can attest with certainty: Cassian Court’s cock is flawless in every single way.

“Yes.” He wraps his fist around that long, stiff length and strokes, making himself harder, redder. “Don’t you remember?”

I blink and attempt to shake my head—though at the moment, I barely remember I have a head, let alone coherent thoughts inside it. The cause turns hopeless as he slides back in, slotting his hard, commanding body into the welcoming V of mine.

“You don’t fuck me, Miss Santelle.” He pushes back the cotton between my legs, exposing me—before widening me. “I fuck you.”

And then…he is the force that fills me. A rod of heat. A ram of pressure. An invasion of lust. Impossible to hide from. Impenetrable…incredible.

He is mine.

And I am completely, hopelessly, his.

My body, not used to him after so many weeks, fights the penetration—but my soul welcomes the sting…craves the new wounds he opens from the inside out. The emotional blood I spill…

The tears it is now all right to shed.

They cleanse me. Heal me. Open the faucet for all the other tears, too. All the things I have kept so carefully stoppered since the night I knelt beside his bleeding body in a dark corner of Bryant Park…

The terror.

The guilt.

The nightmare of thinking he might die…without ever knowing how deeply I had fallen in love with him.

“Armeau. What is it?” The flinty edges of his voice slice into the side of my neck in all the best ways, making long-forgotten parts of my body tremble…reminding me why our surface satisfactions of the last six weeks have not come close to this. “Getting to know him” like a girlfriend has been enjoyable, even fun, but it is not the completion of having him like this…possessing him in the deepest regions of my body…letting him into the sweet, wordless places of my soul…where even I cannot venture without the strength and boldness of him…

“Mishella?” he persists. In answer, I can only shake my head once more, before tucking my face against his neck. I breathe in, cherishing the scents of our soaps and the musk of our arousals. I lick his skin, savoring the salty, masculine taste of him.

“Just…go deeper,” I finally beg. “Fill me up, Cassian.”

He groans, cupping my backside with his masterful hands, opening my body wider for his. “I won’t stop until I have.”

We rock in a steady, primal rhythm, my hips rolling to meet his plunges, his cock impaling me a little deeper with each new thrust. As the sun dips lower and twilight merges into night, shadows play over the focus of his face, the power of his body. I am entranced, scarcely believing a creature so perfect derives such pleasure from joining with me…but I accept the gratitude of knowing it as truth. Of