Page 4 of Pretty Broken Doll

With a frown, I glance over to find him standing near a display case by the balcony, his attention fixed on the medals and trophies from my college basketball days at UDub. All that wasted success, before my father hit me with cold, hard reality.

Coming up behind him, I take a slow sip of my drink. “You follow college ball at all?”

He jumps, startled, as those blue eyes meet mine briefly. “My dad does. Do you play?”

“I used to.”

Humming softly, he studies me sidelong like he’s waiting for more, but I didn’t bring him up here for story-time. He’s here to fuck. Nothing else.

And I’m getting impatient.

“Come here, doll face.” Draining the rest of my drink, I set the tumbler down before wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him flush against my chest.

He squeaks, his palms landing on my pecs as his wide eyes dart up to mine. We stay like that for a moment, his quick breaths brushing my skin, before I weave my fingers into his hair and crush my mouth to his.

The boy goes rigid, stiff as a board, and I lick at those pretty lips until they part for me. The second our tongues touch, he melts, his body softening as his hands slide up to cup the back of my neck. That hard cock grinds against mine when he rolls his hips, and I groan as I reach down to squeeze his perky ass cheeks.

Kissing isn’t something I normally do when hooking up, but damn, he tastes so sweet.

“How do you want it?” I murmur, backing us up toward my leather sectional. “Rough? Soft? I can go either way.”

Rough is preferable, but I’m not a complete jackass. I always consider what my sexual partner wants, even if it’s just for one night. Usually, there’s a conversation beforehand to set expectations, but I’ve no patience tonight. The Uber driver will have to do.

A small voice in the back of my mind tells me I should at least ask his name, but I shove it aside. I really don’t give a fuck.

“Uh.” He breaks the kiss, pupils blown wide in desire as he ducks his head. “What—whatever’s clever.”

... Whatever’s clever?

What the fuck?

Immediately, alarms blast in my head, telling me to slow down, halt, cease and desist. Bad idea. But then he sinks his teeth into his swollen lip as he peeks up at me from under silky waves, and I completely forget all thoughts other than getting this sexy piece of ass onto his hands and knees.

Fuck, I thought I was over the whole innocent role-play, but apparently not. It works for him. He’s probably trapped plenty of victims with that look alone.

Keeping my gaze locked on his, I remove my suit jacket before slowly unbuttoning my shirt. “Take off your clothes.”

He watches, enraptured, as I toe off my shoes and reach for my belt, his eyes widening at the apparent bulge in my crotch. A pretty blush spreads across his skin, turning it a deep red. His gaze snags briefly on the burn scar covering the side of my left thigh, and he inhales sharply, like he’s about to comment. They always do.

But the second I slide my slacks down, leaving myself in nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein’s, his focus shifts. The scar is forgotten, replaced by nervous energy as he pulls off his hoodie. He hesitates, bunching the hem of his t-shirt in his fists, his gaze darting around the room.

“Can I keep my shirt on?” he asks, his voice so small and uncertain that I once again pump the brakes.

That feeling in my gut intensifies, screaming at me to stop because something about this isn’t right. I open my mouth to tell him that we shouldn’t do this, but then the little vixen drops his sweats to the floor, no underwear, and I’m rendered speechless when his hard length springs free.

“Damn, doll.” Little guy has a gorgeous cock.

Reaching for him, I slide off my underwear and wrap a hand around our shafts. The most musical sound leaves his throat, a breathy whimper that I swallow with a kiss, stroking us together while he thrusts into my palm.

His mouth is sloppy against mine, too much tongue, teeth clacking together. It’s clear he needs some practice, but the eager way he’s fucking my fist and digging his nails into my shoulders more than makes up for the lack of experience.

I’m about to push him down onto the couch when a sticky warmth floods my hand. Our lips part with a smack as I look down to see his cock erupting like a geyser, shooting onto his shirt while he moans. His eyes roll back, and I continue to jerk him through the orgasm until he sags in my arms once I’ve milked him dry.

It’s a fucking beautiful sight, watching him fall apart, and my mind conjures up other ways of making him come before I shove those thoughts behind a steel door. This is only happening once, and only for tonight. As soon as I get off, he’s gone.

Huffing a small laugh, I give in for just a second, resting my cheek on his hair. “That was, uh...fast.”

“That’s so embarrassing,” he groans, still panting as he buries his face in my chest. The sudden urge to wrap myself around him is overwhelming, to hold him close, but I quickly take a step back instead.