Page 50 of The Toy Collector

Minutes pass by, but I let her organize her thoughts. Every now and then, she nods to herself, as though she’s trying to talk herself into believing whatever answer she reaches in her mind. I stay quiet. I don’t want her hiding from the truth. What I want is for her to reach out and grab it, twist it in her palm—owning it instead of hiding from it.

But when my toy’s lips split into what I’m sure should be a smile, I know that’s not the path she chose. “Oh, well,” she says breezily, shrugging one shoulder.

If she’s not going to spell out what I’m sure we both know, neither am I. So instead of acknowledging what she just said, I ask, “Are you still hungry?”

“I don’t know how to use chopsticks,” she blurts out, her voice high pitched. “I probably should since Chinese is basically one of my main food groups. But, well, I always use a fork—”

“You don’t need to,” I interrupt, brushing her lip with the rim of the glass. “You’ll always be fed.”

The air thickens, the energy between us no longer humming—it vibrates. She leans into the next bite, and I let it linger at her mouth, just long enough for her to whimper in impatience. I pour another glass, and another, feeding her and feeding myself in turns.

Her voice catches again, breathless, perfect. “You know, I’m not stupid. Just because I refuse to say it out loud doesn’t mean I don’t know.” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down.

I tilt her chin, letting my touch linger. “You’re many things, Toy. But not stupid.”

She shudders, and I take a second to memorize the way she looks right now, the way her thighs are spread wide enough to accommodate me between them. I know she isn’t here for me, not indulging my gamesfor anything but her future—for her career.

But she’s still here, and that’s all that matters. It’s the opening I need to make her fall for me like I have for her. I put the food aside, shifting forward to kiss the soft skin of her thighs.

“Tell me something,” I demand, my voice low, consuming.

“What?” she breathes.

“Was it worth it?”

Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “Was what worth it?”

Chuckling, I spread her thighs even wider. “Was it worth sitting in on the meeting?”

When she presses her lips together in a firm line, I bite the soft skin on her inner thigh hard enough to make her yelp. “Hey!”

“Answer me, Toy. Was it enough to justify what you endured?” My mouth presses against the crease of her leg, and I feel her shiver.

Her answer is cautious, almost defensive, but I expect nothing less. “Was it a setup?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question. “Am I here to be sacrificed like the intern Senator Jane Slade talked about?”

I get the feeling she’s using Slade’s full name to let me know she’s aware of who the Senator is.

In answer, I bite her harder. Her body jerks, but she doesn’t pull away. “Tell me what you learned from the meeting,” I rasp before blowing cold air on the skin I just bit.

She exhales shakily, then swallows. “The intern scapegoat—they weren’t just hiding a mistake. They were crafting a story. Something palatable. Something marketable.”

“And?”

She draws in a breath, gathering courage. “Senator Slade controlled the tone. James played coward. You…” She falters, but recovers. “You barely spoke and still ran the entire meeting. You knew what the outcome would be before they walked through the door.”

My hand tightens ever so slightly on her thigh, a wordless reward. “Go on.”

“The story was already seeded, so maybe the scapegoat had already been chosen.”

My dick hardens against my thigh as I listen to her give word to her thoughts. She’s so fucking sexy as she lets her mind work it all out.

“Slade’s job was to make it look clean. James’ job was to panic loud enough that no one questions what happens when the smoke clears.”

I make a sound of disapproval. “If that’s right, why would they play those roles in front of me if it’s all for the public?”

Her mouth falls open. “Oh!” she gasps. Then she catches her mistake. “You’re right, they weren’t playing. At least… I don’t think Slade was. But… you set James up, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” I counter.

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