Toy Boy

by Lily Harlem

  He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and left a gentle sheen on them.

  His lower lip was slightly larger than the top one and had a tiny, barely visible dent in the center. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He’d taste of wine and the sweet bread we’d eaten, no doubt, and that bottom lip of his, it looked so soft and pliant.

  He’d told me on the phone once that he wanted to kiss me for hours. He’d said he’d hated the distance, the miles between us, when all he’d wanted to do was kiss my mouth, my neck, the small space behind my ear and my hairline. Then lower, he’d said, my cleavage, my breasts.

  ‘I want to suck your nipples until you beg me to go lower. And after you’ve begged, for a while, I will go lower. I’ll wind my tongue through your most sensitive folds, exploring, playing. I’ll find out what makes you pant for more and what makes you pull on my hair and trap my shoulders with your legs, keeping me there, buried in your pussy. I’ll learn how to make you come with just my tongue, Kay, and you’ll love it.’

  Fuck.

  I sat back.

  He dropped his hands. “What?”

  “It’s just…”

  “I know,” he said, “you’re just not attracted to me, right?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not that.” What a stupid thing to say. Who the hell in their right mind wouldn’t be attracted to Sullivan?

  “I can take it,” he said, giving a stiff shrug. “You’re not into me, that’s fine. Perhaps I should have gone for a bit of gray hair dye or something, munched on a few more burgers.” He rubbed his flat belly. “Made myself look older.”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous. You’re gorgeous, just the way you are.”

  He grinned. “Well, I guess that’s progress on ‘cute as a button’. Not such a compliment to my manliness being called cute.”

  I laughed—a quick expulsion of tension. I probably shouldn’t have called him that. He was definitely in the gorgeous young man category and not like a cute button at all.

  “But about tonight,” he said, becoming serious. “Come stay on the boat. The beds are all made up.”

  “I’m not sure, I—”

  “It’s simple,” he said. “You have the double cabin, and I’ll sleep on deck. That way, you can use the bathroom and the kitchen without me in your way. It will be like having a hotel room.”

  “You can’t sleep on deck.”

  “I can and I have many times. The benches are comfortable enough, and I like to look at the stars, not something I get to do much in Washington State.”

  What he was suggesting was a solution to my immediate problem of not having a roof over my head for the night, but it was leaving him without one over his. “I don’t know.”

  “Please, apart from the fact it’s busy season and all the hotels are likely to be full to the brim, I’ll only worry about where you are. Come back to Dolly Bird. She’s perfectly comfortable and all stocked ready for you.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “As sure as I was that we’d be spending tonight in that double cabin together, but there you go. I’m a take-it-on-the-chin kind of a guy.” He rubbed his jawline, and the bristles against his palm generated a grating sound. “I’m also damn patient.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning I was being dead serious all those times I told you I loved you.”

  I pushed my hair back from my face. My head was a little woozy from the wine. “I’m sure you did. And I did, too, it’s just…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m just a boy.” He stood and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s get back, you look exhausted.”

  I took his hand.

  Once I’d stood, he didn’t let go.

  As we walked out of the bar, hand in hand, I was relieved that the conversation about our ages had come to an end. Nothing could happen between us. So what was the point in hammering it out over and over?

  We’d had fun, but it had all been fantasy, not reality. And now it was over. It would dominate an evening of gossip with the girls next time we went out, but at least I’d have something new to talk about for a change.

  So for now, I’d get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow I’d find a way to the airport and book a flight home. It might mean a day or two in the small capital of Cephalonia, but I could cope with that.

  Sullivan would be just fine sailing on his own for the week. He’d done it before. It was what he was good at. In fact, he’d likely have more fun without me cramping his style, and he’d find some hot, young chick who’d ride the waves with him.

  Yes, it was for the best. I’d soon be back in Oxford, working with my business management post-graduates, and all would be normal, safe and quiet again. There’d be no more surprises.

  Because normal, I could handle. Boats called Dolly Bird, sexy, young men, and islands that held thousands of years of history threw me off kilter.

  He squeezed my fingers a little tighter within the grip of his hand and led me down the steep lane to the port.

  I didn’t object. Small potholes were now disguised by the darkness, and the path really was at quite an angle.

  We crossed the small square to the port. Still keeping a hold of me, Sullivan helped me onto Dolly Bird. The narrow gangplank was a little unnerving, but once onboard, I freed my hand from his.

  I’d been glad of his support on the walk back, that was all. It wasn’t like we were a couple, holding hands after a romantic evening sipping wine and watching the sunset. That wasn’t how it was.

  “Come on, down here,” he said, flicking on a small light that flooded the upper deck.

  Immediately, a moth fluttered toward the bulb.

  He flipped open a door and disappeared, having to tilt his head slightly to get through the gap.

  I sucked in a deep breath. I’d thought of this moment so many times. In fact, I’d been preparing all week for naked time with my new man—hairdressers on Monday, facial on Tuesday, manicure and pedicure on Thursday, and an appointment with the dreaded wax strips on Friday to make sure not a hair was out of place anywhere on my body. I’d even had a layer of fake tan applied, just so I wasn’t too pasty, and had lost those extra five pounds I’d kept meaning to.

  Shame he wasn’t going to be appreciating my efforts. What I’d thought was going to be my first time with a man other than Thomas in over ten years wasn’t going to happen.

  “Come on down,” he repeated, appearing at the entrance to the galley. “But hold on, it’s a bit of a drop.”

  “Yes, I’m coming.”

  I held on to the rail and carefully checked my footing on each of the three steps that led to the inside area of the boat.

  Once down, I had a look around.

  Sullivan had been right. Dolly Bird was indeed all set up for crew, and the kitchen well equipped. It was bigger below deck than I’d expected, perfectly adequate as a place to live for a week, especially when the main attraction was the great outdoors anyway.

  “Look, here’s the cold stuff,” he said, lifting a light wooden work surface in the galley and exposing a box that functioned as a refrigerator. “Everything you need, including breakfast.”

  In it sat a bottle of champagne, wine, cheese, bacon, a pat of butter, and a carton of milk.

  “Thank you.”

  “And in here, tea. I know how you like Tetley Tea.”

  His arm bumped my shoulder in the small space as he opened a cupboard and showed off the blue packet of my usual morning drink.

  “You have a good memory,” I said, stepping back a little toward a small, cushioned bench that had a table in front of it. On it sat a bowl of sugared almonds, my favorite.

  “I have an exceptionally good memory when it comes to you,” he said, studying me seriously.

  I didn’t reply.

  For a moment, he just looked at me, then he turned away and closed up the cupboard and the refrigerator. He removed his keys and wallet from the deep pocket on his swim shorts and set
them on the counter, the rattle of his keys loud in the small, quiet space.

  “In here,” he said, taking a step past me, “is the bathroom. It’s compact but functional.”

  He pulled open an oval door that had a lip around the bottom, so that it was necessary to step into the tiny room.

  “Yes, it is compact.” Everything appeared to be in miniature, including the mini porthole. There was no bath, just a kind of shower with a hose-like attachment.

  “Well, I manage,” he said, his easy grin returning. “And I’m twice the size of you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” It was for only one night.

  “So,” he said, shutting the door and glancing down at his feet. “I guess it’s goodnight.”

  “Yes.” I studied the way his long fringe fell forward, the points of the strands of hair tickling his eyebrows. “See you in the morning.”

  “Kay.” He looked up, his eyes narrowed and a line plowed across his brow.

  My heart skipped a beat. If only it had been different. If only he’d been ten years older. Damn, I’d be ripping that T-shirt off him right now, shoving at my own clothes and finding the bedroom, wherever the hell it was. Actually, no, forget the bedroom, right here would do. Up against the bathroom door or sitting on the work surface that covered the refrigerator, perhaps on the steps that led up to the deck.

  The warmth of desire heated my belly and tugged between my legs. I stared at the neck on his top. It was a little frayed, obviously a favorite T-shirt, and his skin in the hollow of his throat, looked so lickable my mouth watered.

  ‘I’d back you up against the wall, some place outside, an alley. It would be private, no one would see us, but still, the possibility of someone stumbling upon us would add to our thrill. Picture it, Kay…your shoulders against brickwork, your legs wrapped around my waist and me sliding into you. Taking you, making you mine. You’d soon forget to be worried, wouldn’t you? It would feel too damn good—my cock inside you, building you up, making you come. We’d have to be fast to minimize the possibility of being found. Can you imagine the urgency? Your breaths would be hard to catch because of how I was pounding in and out, in and out. You’d feel my hands gripping your bare ass cheeks, my mouth on yours, and your little panties, they’d just be dangling from one foot. You’d like that, Kay, wouldn’t you? All of it. Being taken hard and fast by me, down an alley. I’d like it, a lot. Let’s think about it together. Touch yourself, please, now. Touch yourself, and I’ll take my cock out, holding it while you tell me how it feels for you. Exactly how you’d want me to do it.’

  And that had been exactly what I’d done. One hand on the phone, the other down my knickers as I’d spoken filthy words, exposed a fantasy and made sure I’d taken him with me for the ride.

  This young, unfamiliar man, staring at me now, his wide shoulders filling my peripheral vision and his dynamic, intense energy bouncing off me, had listened to me masturbate while talking about him fucking me in some dark alley. He’d jerked off, too. I’d heard his gasp of pleasure and his long, low sigh of release. It had turned me the hell on.

  A flush traveled up my neck and pinched my cheeks. My heart was galloping. I didn’t know where to look, so I turned away and stared at a radio set into the wall. Its long, coiled wire hung low and cast a curly shadow onto the paisley curtain next to it.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing.” I turned my head farther away, looked at the next set of curtains along and wondered if I should draw them.

  “Tell me.” He reached out, set his palm over my cheek, and gently urged me to look up at him.

  “You,” I said. “I was thinking about you. And how we…” The words bunched in my mouth, my tongue felt thick. My mind was a blizzard of memories, thoughts and emotions.

  “How we what?” He moved his fingers a little, stroking my skin.

  “How we, how I…” I shut my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  “How we had great phone sex,” he said.

  “Yes.” I flicked my eyes open. “Yes, and damn, I feel so ashamed.”

  He winced and his head jerked as though he’d been slapped by an invisible hand.

  I instantly regretted my word choice. “I’m sorry, not ashamed, just… Shit, I don’t know. You’re not who I pictured was on the other end of the line, that’s all.”

  “But I am gorgeous. You admitted that only a while ago.” The pained expression left his face, and the right side of his mouth twitched into a half smile.

  “Well, I…”

  “And I think you’re gorgeous, more than gorgeous.” The other side of his mouth lifted and he gave me a full-on grin.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, I—”

  “You’re beautiful, intelligent, you have a spirit for adventure that just needs unleashing, and most of all, you’re considerate and caring and real. Kay, we did nothing wrong. We’re two consenting adults who are attracted to each other.” He looked serious again. “Don’t feel ashamed, please. That hurts me.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry, and yes, I know about the consenting thing, really, I do.”

  “And I knew exactly who I was talking to. There’s no surprise for me. It’s wonderful to finally be here with you. Be able to touch you in the flesh, hear you, see you, smell you.” He tipped forward and breathed in, shutting his eyes for a second as he did so.

  His lashes produced small, fan-shaped shadows under his eyes.

  “It’s a dream come true,” he whispered.

  “But we can’t, it’s too…”

  “I know,” he said, not moving back or removing his hand from my face. “You have this crazy idea that I’m too young for you.”

  He pressed his lips to my cheek, the one he wasn’t touching.

  It could have been interpreted as a reverent, polite kiss, except he lingered for several seconds, holding me firmly in place as his mouth touched my flesh and his stubbled chin spiked against my skin. That linger made it feel erotic, sensual, not a friendly kiss but one full of unspoken words and desires and history, too—history of what had been said on dark, lonely nights.

  I placed my hand on his chest, felt the hardness of his pecs beneath his T-shirt, and pushed a little.

  Still, he didn’t move, but he did lift his mouth from my cheek to my ear. “Goodnight, baby,” he said. “It could have been so much more, but I guess we’ll have to settle for sweet dreams.”

  Chapter Five

  Sullivan moved away then grabbed a pillow from the couch. He turned and swiped up an iPod and a bottle of water then headed up the steps with the earphones from the iPod dangling by his legs.

  I watched him go, then saw the door to the outside world shut with a resounding click.

  Was he battling disappointment that he wouldn’t be getting any tonight? He’d been thinking, like I had, that tonight would be the night we’d finally join as one after months of being so desperate to meet, to enjoy each other’s bodies.

  Well, it wasn’t exactly my fault.

  If he hadn’t lied, it would all be different.

  I wouldn’t even be here now.

  I heard him settle on one of the benches under the Bimini and wondered if he’d removed it so he could enjoy the stars or if he’d just said that to ease my conscience about him sleeping up there.

  I sighed.

  Whatever.

  I decided to explore further. The floor was slightly unstable as I moved around, investigating what was behind the other thin wooden doors—at least, I thought it was the floor and not the wine. Maybe it was a combination of both.

  There were two small climb-in cabins at the back of the boat, the ceilings so low it would be hard to sit up in them. A shudder went over me—far too claustrophobic for my liking.

  There was a cupboard next to the steps that led to the deck that held a broom, mop and pegs.

  At the opposite end, the bow, was the main cabin. It couldn’t be described as luxurious because all it contained was a bed. There w
as no standing room. One big mattress filled the space, and it was pointed to mimic the shape of the front of the boat. There were little storage cupboards and a shelf around the edge. Unlike the other cabins, this one had a high ceiling and a skylight—currently open.

  I stared into the small compartment as I undid the buttons on my blouse. Was this really where we’d been going to spend our first night together? There wasn’t much space, and Sullivan was so big it was hard to imagine him getting frisky in there. He’d bang his head and bump his feet on the end. Heck, could he even fit in there with his legs straight?

  I finished undressing and laid my clothes on the couch in the main seating area. I’d just sleep in the pretty, white lace knickers and bra set I had on. I’d bought an expensive black negligee as my nightwear for the holiday, but that could stay packed.

  After grabbing a bottle of water, I fished around in my bag for my makeup remover.

  As I slid a damp cotton pad over my face, my gaze landed on Sullivan’s wallet and keys. It was the key ring that caught my attention. I walked over and picked it up. It was a black disc with a blue letter ‘c’ on it. The top half of the letter was shaped like a shark leaping from water. I knew instantly that it was a Canucks keychain. Sullivan was a mad fan of the hockey team just over the border from where he lived.

  I smiled and held the smooth disc in my hand. His keys were heavy. I studied them, wondering which was to his house. A house that had five bedrooms and three bathrooms and a garage that fit four cars. He’d said he only had one car, and I’d laughed and asked him why he needed such a big garage. He’d replied he didn’t, it was just the biggest house on the street, so he’d bought it.

  His car key slid between my index and middle finger. It was a BMW, same as mine, by the looks of it.

  I quietly placed his keys back down, and they crumpled into a pile.

  After dropping my cotton pad into the galley bin, I picked up his wallet. I knew I shouldn’t look. But it felt strange, this knowing him but not. Something compelled me to try to connect the dots in my brain. Convince myself this was the man I’d fallen for with all the grace of a brick landing in a puddle. I needed to affirm that he wasn’t a stranger even though he looked it.