Page 110 of The Toy Collector

While I was gone, I only checked the security feeds long enough to confirm she hadn’t left the apartment. I could have listened in on everything, but I decided to play nice and respect her time with Lena. Now that seems like a fucking mistake because something’s up.

“What did you talk about?” I move closer, watching her throat work as she swallows.

“Nothing special.” Her eyes slide away from mine. “School. Exams.”

She’s lying. The truth sits on her skin like a fever, making her cheeks flush, her posture too rigid. Something in their conversation has unsettled my toy.

“Liar,” I murmur, but there’s no anger in it. Only certainty.

Her shoulders tense. “I’m not the only one with secrets,” she retorts.

“Is that so?” I brush her hair back from her cheek with one hand, savoring the slight tremor that runs through her at my touch. “What secrets am I keeping, Toy?” My fingers skim the shell of her ear, down the column of her throat.

She huffs out a laugh. “If I knew it wouldn’t be much of a secret, would it?” There she is, my stubborn Piper.

“If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask,” I tell her.

If Lena has done anything to upset Piper, I’ll need to address it carefully. My toy is stubborn in her attachments. She wouldn’t forgive me for hurting her precious friend, no matter how much that friend might deserve it.

“We should shower before dinner,” I say, the words simple enough, but the demand beneath them is unmistakable. Her body knows what I’m really saying. It always does.

She laughs under her breath. “I need to shave.” She says it like that’s a deterrent. “And I can’t afford distractions right now. Exams are coming up, and I’m already behind.”

I let her spill her protests like prayers to a god who’s already made up his mind.

“You don’t have to do anything alone anymore,” I tell her, closing the distance between us, and sliding my hand around the back of her neck. Her skin burns against my palm, so alive. I apply just enough pressure to remind her who she belongs to. “That includes shaving.”

The shift is subtle but immediate as her body softens against mine without a fight. My hand never leaves her neck as I guide her toward the bathroom. With each step, I feel her resistance crumbling, feel her leaning into my touch like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

“I’ll run the water,” I tell her, finally releasing her to turn on the shower. Then I move back to her, watching as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, still hovering in the doorway as if uncertain. “Strip.”

Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches for the hem of her sweater, but she doesn’t hesitate. With swift movements, she pulls it over her head and lets it fall to the floor. Next, her pants, sliding down her thighs to pool at her feet. She steps out of them with a grace that makes my blood burn.

I take my time removing my own clothes, never breaking our gaze. Every button undone, every inch of skin revealed is done with the slow precision of a ritual. My toy’s eyes darken with lust when I stand naked before her.

I step toward her, and hook my fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear. “These too,” I rasp against her temple.

She obeys without hesitation, allowing me to unhook her bra while she pushes down her thong, stepping out of her underwear. Then I take her hand and lead her into the shower, the hot water immediately slicking our skin, making it gleam in the low bathroom light.

I position her directly beneath the spray, watching as the water cascades over her, plastering her hair to her skull in dark rivers. She looks up at me through long, wet lashes, water beading on her lips, and for a moment, I almost forget that anything was ever wrong. But then I see it—that same restlessness from before, hidden now behind desire but still there in the corners of her eyes.

Whatever Lena said to her, I’ll erase it. Letter by fucking letter, touchby motherfucking touch, until there’s nothing left in Piper’s mind but the truth I’ve carved into her soul since the day I saw her.

I reach for the soap, working it between my palms until it becomes a thick, white lather between my hands. When I touch her shoulders, she exhales—a soft sound that echoes off the walls.

“Turn around,” I demand against her ear.

She obeys, presenting her back to me, hair cascading down in a dark, wet rope that I push to her front. I start at her shoulders, fingers digging into the tense muscles there, working the soap across her skin in slow, deliberate circles. I’m memorizing her all over again, mapping territory I already own.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I rasp against her ear, because sometimes even gods have to worship their miracles out loud.

Her head drops forward, exposing the vulnerable nape of her neck. I press my lips there, tasting soap and water and the salt of her skin. My hands slide around to her front, palms gliding over the slick plane of her stomach, up to cup the weight of her tits.

Her nipples pebble instantly against my palms, the contrast of soft flesh and tight peaks making my cock jerk against her ass. Piper arches into my hands with a fractured moan, and the hunger to split her open threatens my control.

She turns in my arms, her own hands coming up to mirror my earlier actions. “I want to feel you,” she purrs.

Slick suds slide between her fingers as she traces the contours of my chest, shoulders, down my arms in slow, deliberate lines that make my blood sing.

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