Sleeping With the Help (Toyboy Lover) by Ava Rush Read Free Book Online Page B

did something I'd regret.
    I went to step past him, not interested in continuing this argument, noticing for the first time just how close he'd gotten. Only a few feet separated us. Suddenly, I was unable to move. When I looked down I saw his hand on my stomach, preventing me from leaving. I searched his eyes for answers, for reasons. But what I saw instead was longing, lust. I'd seen it many times before in other men and knew exactly what it looked like.
    “I said I'm fine. You don't believe me? You still think I'm weak?” Before I knew what was happening, or knew how to react, his hand – so strong – was pushing me against the refrigerator. He now stood so close I could smell the antiseptic cream. I peered up at him, unsure what was coming next, yet holding my breath in delicious anticipation. The look in his eyes wasn't the look of someone hell bent on hurting me.
    With steady hands – quite the opposite of mine – he reached for the belt on my dressing gown. Within seconds the material fell away, exposing my black bra and matching panties. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I became light-headed from lack of oxygen.
    “W-what are you doing?” I breathed, the words caught in my throat.
    “Showing my gratitude,” he said, his eyes serious. He took in my exposed body, my breasts rising and falling before him, with every anxious breath.
    He took one finger and worked it up my midriff, his touch lingering, tracing a line to my breasts. He teased the tops with his light touch, tickling me, before pulling the cups of my bra down. My breasts fell over the bra as though released from captivity.
    I bit my bottom lip, catching the desire in his eyes. He raised an eyebrow, impressed with my offering. When the cold air hit my unclothed nipples they became as hard as pebbles.
    He bent low, taking one breast into his mouth and working his tongue around it, lavishing a wet offering on my hardened nipple. I held his head in my hand, keeping him in place, pressing the back of my head against the refrigerator. My eyes fluttered shut, a drawn out groan escaping my lips.
    He brought his head up. We stared at each other. It was as if we were finally seeing eye-to-eye. And then his lips were on mine, fighting to overpower me. His tongue found its way into my hungry mouth. His kiss was as unyielding as his hold on me – as powerful as his desire. He stole whatever breath I had in me away.
    The rough texture of his bandages brushed my skin as his chest pressed against mine. I wanted desperately to tear them off and expose him as he had me, to feel him completely – skin on skin – not separated by pieces of cloth.
    His hand gripped my wrists, his tongue still battling with mine, but dominating. He lifted my arms above my head, pinning them easily to the refrigerator. This seemed to give him the power boost he needed, because his kisses became more aggressive, more breath stealing. The rock hard imprint of his manhood rubbing against my waist wasn't unexpected; I knew it was only a matter of time before it made its appearance. A warm, moist sensation between my legs developed shortly after, in anticipation of what would come next.
    “You still think I'm weak?” he said, once he'd torn his mouth away. He traced his tongue along my earlobe, speaking gently against my ear. The deep timbre in his voice sent a tremble through my veins. His grip on my wrists tightened; when I tried to wriggle free, for effect as opposed to an actual need to escape, I found I couldn't. Even with his ribs bruised I wasn't a match for him.
    He smiled wickedly, looking down at me with a satisfied grin. “I thought not.”
    A frightening thought came to me. Now that he had shown me that he wasn't weak, what if he denied me? What if he cruelly withdrew now that he had me wet and anxious, refusing to give me what I'd literally dreamed about? What if he left me wanting?
    I would have pleaded with him – I was already too far gone not to, the need