Page 52 of The Toy Collector

More cold touches, this time circling my breasts. I hiss at the shocking chill, my back arching involuntarily. The sorbet melts instantly against my heated skin, dripping down the curves in cold rivulets. He catches each one with his tongue, tracing lazy patterns that make my breath hitch.

When he finally circles my nipple with his tongue, the jolt of pleasure is so intense I cry out. He answers with a dark chuckle, then bites down—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to send a sharp flash of pain-pleasure straight between my legs.

“Oh, God!” I cry out again.

“Mhmm, you’re so sensitive,” he notes, soothing the sting with soft, open-mouthed kisses. “I like that.”

He lavishes the same attention on my other breast, alternating between gentle licks and sharp nips that have me squirming. The scruff on his face scrapes against my tender skin, a delicious counterpoint to the slick heat of his tongue.

My hands find his hair—thick, silky—and I tangle my fingers in it, not sure if I’m trying to pull him closer or push him away. Everything is too much, but somehow not enough.

“You moan like you want to be ruined,” he says, voice shredded with restraint. I don’t answer. I just tilt my head back and let the next moan break free—louder this time. Raw. Needy. Maybe ruined is what I want to be after all.

“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.

Another cold splash hits my skin, this time directly on my nipple. I whimper at the shock, then moan as his mouth closes over it, sucking hard, the heat of his tongue melting the sorbet and sending rivers of sensation coursing through me.

“So responsive,” he groans against my breast. “A perfect fucking toy.”

He alternates between my nipples, sucking, biting, laving with his tongue until I’m panting harder and attempting to clench my thighs together so I can get some friction where I need it most. But with him standing between them, that’s not happening.

Everything in me tightens—a coil winding, threatening to snap. “Oh, God,” I moan, surprised by how turned on I am.

He chuckles, the sound seductively dark and knowing. “Are you going to come just from my mouth on your gorgeous tits?”

The question itself is almost enough to push me over. I shake my head in denial, but my body betrays me—hips canting, seeking, my breath coming in short, sharp pants.

“I think you are,” he observes, and there’s a note of wonder beneath the smugness. “Show me, Toy. Show me how you shatter for the man who owns you.”

His mouth closes over my nipple again, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before biting down—harder this time, right on the edge of true pain. The sharp sting connects directly to my clit, and suddenly I’m falling, coming apart with a scream that sounds like it’s being torn from somewhere deep inside me.

“I… yes! Just like that. Oh… more!”

He keeps his mouth on me as I shudder through it, waves of pleasure crashing over me, leaving me gasping and disoriented. I’ve never… not like this, not just from… I can’t even finish my thoughts.

While I’m still trembling, still caught in the aftershocks, his hand cups the back of my neck and pulls me forward. His lips find mine in a crushing kiss that steals what little breath I have left.

His tongue slides into my mouth. I taste the sweetness of the sorbet mixed with something darker, richer—chocolate, and beneath that, a flavor that must be my skin.

This is our first kiss.The thought flickers through my mind like lightning, there and gone, replaced by pure sensation.

His mouth moves against mine with bruising intensity, possessing me. My hands find his shoulders, feeling the solid musclebeneath expensive fabric and I dig my fingers into him while his tongue strokes against mine.

The kiss is commanding rather than coaxing, and I yield to it, letting him take. He groans into my mouth, and I moan in response to the guttural, masculine sound.

When he pulls back, I’m dizzy, lips swollen and tingling. A whimper escapes me—a small, broken sound that would embarrass me if I had any pride left to wound.

His thumb traces my lower lip, pressing slightly where it’s tender from his kiss. “We’ve only just begun,” he promises, and the dark anticipation in his voice makes me shiver. “Lie back on the table, Toy. I want to see if your other lips taste just as sweet.”

I scramble to do as he says, but without my sight, and with the way I’m sticking to the glass table, I feel more like I’m flopping around rather than moving gracefully.

Mercifully, he grabs my hips and helps me. I feel him bend over me, the warmth of his exhale ghosting over my bare chest before his palm spreads between my breasts, guiding me down.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice dark and indulgent.

The table must be big, no inch of me is touching the edges. But I feel around for them, just able to hold on with my fingertips.

My body is still humming with oversensitivity when I hear the clink of glass again. This time, when the jarring chill of sorbet hits my skin, it lands just below my navel, a freezing trail that makes my stomach muscles contract.

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