Page 58 of Toy No More

I smile.Oh…but you are the star, huh?

We understand each other without words. Nodding, I let him lead me to one of the chairs, already feeling myself stiffen up inside my pants. The anticipation is half of the fun, isn’t it? Apollo knows that. He’s a master at this—at seducing. Everything about him, whether intentionally or subconsciously, seems almost perfectly programmed to be that. Enticing. Thrilling. Mercilessly irresistible.

The way he moves his hips when he walks. The way he carries himself, holding his head high on that pretty, long neck of his. Even the way he blinks and parts his lip, in such a sexy but completely natural manner, drives me crazy.

Apollo pushes me to sit and stands over me with a mischievous smile. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

I stare at him, my throat going dry and body uncomfortably hot as I expect his next move. Still keeping his eyes on me, he walks a little to the left, where a sound system sits on top of a pink chest of drawers. He presses a button and music starts playing. Whatever the first song was, he skips it, and then another, before settling on one with a sound as seductive and slow as his own movements. My heart pounds inside my ears, nearly drowning out the song once I understand what he’s about to do.

I’ve never had a lap dance. Until now.

With a gulp, I watch him walk a few steps away from me, shifting his hips to the song. With his back to me, he lets his ass do the work, moving it from side to side in a motion that is practically hypnotizing. It looks so good in the snug latex that accentuates every mouth-watering curve of him…

He turns and makes two steps toward me before dropping with his knees wide open and hands gliding down his torso. I study him without blinking, unwilling to miss a single little detail. I see the outline of his cock and the curves of his balls trapped underneath the tight fabric, and can’t stop thinking about how I want to help free them.

Slowly, Apollo gets on his knees and crawls toward me, perfectly synced with every note. His gaze is so focused, almost like he’s in another world. It makes my heart skip a beat when I realizeI’mthe sole focus of his burning stare.

Me.

I breathe out shakily, watching him as he crawls closer. He places his hands on my knees, propping himself up until his knee rests between my spread legs. It touches my crotch so briefly it shouldn’t even be possible for it to cause the reaction it does. I blink slowly, drunk on him and the scent that he’s ever so strategically releasing.

The sight of him on his knees in front of me, the shiny black fabric glistening against his round ass… For a moment, I have to close my eyes and lick my lips to collect myself. When I open them again, Apollo is even closer. His warm hands slide up my chest, spreading my jacket open and sliding it off my shoulders.

Good. I’m burning up.

His face inches toward mine, lips so close I feel his breath, before he withdraws, nearly drawing a pathetic gasp, begging him to stop out of me. No matter how much I swallow, saliva keeps running down my throat. Throbbing pressure pools in the appendage between my legs, the one Apollo gives a brief glance at.

Licking his lips oh so slowly, he smirks and steps away.

As the song picks up, he raises his arms to the ceiling and dances with his hips again. I could watch him twirl all day long. His arms, rested loosely on the top of his head, move around his face, obstructing the view for a few seconds. Each time driving me mad.

When the song demands it with its intensity, he turns around, knees locked as he bends down, spreading his ass in front of me. I dig my fingers into my thighs, releasing another charged breath while keeping my lips tightly pressed together.

I wonder if he’s wet under there, as wet as I’m getting, just sitting here on this stupid chair. My hand itches to reach out for him, to squeeze his cheek and maybe have a little spill out of the side of the cutouts of the latex.

But I stop myself. With a lap dance, you’re not supposed to get handsy, right?

Apollo peeks at me from across his shoulder. I lock to his gaze, hoping—praying—that my desperate expression relays that my cock feels like it’s about to burst out of my pants. I want to touch myself so badly I have no idea how I’m even staying still, and I want to touch him even more. But I’m not sure if I can. If this is what he meant or wanted from this.

Stupid. You stupid idiot. We slept together.But that was different. Completely different from this. Maybe we should’ve set some ground rules before…

I groan when I feel his ass move against my crotch. Digging my fingers harder into my thighs, I suffer through him grinding against my lap with the rhythm the music sets. These movements are too close. Too much. “You’re going to ruin my pants,” I mutter breathlessly.

Apollo lets out a chuckle and turns around. Still letting his body rock slightly with the melody, his finger presses against my lip, pulling it down. I’m sure he enjoys it as he watches me—a panting, quivering mess.

“Song hasn’t even ended yet,” he says, his words flowing out like a song in itself. He knows what he’s doing to me. As he slowly sits in my lap, pressed against me, leg thrown over the side of the chair,he knows.

He’s probably done this a hundred times.

I freeze at the realization. With a blink, I focus my eyes on him properly, and Apollo clearly notices the change because his face shifts, too. That thought is impossible to push away now. As perfect as all this is, as close as he has me to coming completely undone, Apollo is in his role, isn’t he? He must have done this same dance to this same song in this same room.

“What is it?” he whispers, suddenly by my ear. There’s a certain neediness to his voice. Before I can say anything, his hand hooks around the back of my neck and his lips meet mine. He presses against me, both with his body and his tongue, momentarily overriding whatever I was bothered by.

For a few seconds, all I’m able to focus on is how fucking wet and hard I am, and how good he tastes. But then my reason shines through again and I gently squeeze his arms, making him stop.

“Is something wrong?” Apollo asks, his words swift and sharp. “Do you not like this?”

I smile, reaching out to cup his cheek. Finally touching him feels incredible. “N-No, it’s just…” I pause. How do I formulate these thoughts without offending or hurting him? Without them coming off wrong? My eyes fall as I search for a way to explain. Lightly running my other hand down his waist, I sigh. “Do you like it, Apollo?” I ask tentatively. He’s quick to respond, mouth already half open by the time I finish the sentence, but I interrupt him. “I’m so damn turned on I would probably come right this moment if you touched me, but you’re not even hard,” I say, looking down at his crotch.

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