Favourite Toy

By Louise Lyons

Determined to stay single, Dean Simpson and his best friend Ryan have been playing a game, where each man chooses a potential hook-up for the other, usually someone nothing like their usual type. But with Ryan now off the market, Dean agrees to one final round of the game and allows his friend to choose his toy for the evening.

Casper Mancuso is about as far from Dean’s type as he can get. Casper is pretty, flamboyant, and attention-seeking, but sexy with it. Dean decides one night can’t hurt, but when Casper makes it clear his aim is the same as Dean’s – to have one bit of fun and then move on – Dean finds himself surprisingly disappointed.

With both men keen to avoid a relationship at all costs, it seems there can be no chance for anything between them. And yet the pair are drawn to each other and despite some hurtful comments and a very public argument, they just can’t stay away from each other. Eventually Dean is forced to admit that the very antithesis of what he usually likes is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise Lyons
• Release date: Oct 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463406946

Louise Lyons

I'm a gay romance author from the UK, having started in my late teens writing Fanfiction with a number of different films/TV series for inspiration. My reviews prompted me to try publishing some works and my first book was released in 2014. Since then, I've published several novels and novellas, and a collection of short stories.Most of the books published through official publishing channels have now had the rights returned to me for various reasons, so I'm re-issuing them myself.

Book preview

Favourite Toy

by

Louise Lyons

COPYRIGHT

Favourite Toy © 2nd Edition 2018 Louise Lyons

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

WARNING

This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the Author

Chapter One

As I rolled over my arm brushed against warm flesh and I froze. Damn it, I'd almost fallen asleep. I never let myself stay the night with them. It was more difficult to shake them off if we woke up together, because I was invariably tempted into a repeat of what we'd done before we fell asleep. Then they asked for my number, or a date, or—

Dean?

Yeah. I've gotta go. Inwardly cursing, I sat up and threw back the bed covers.

It's the middle of the night. Stay. He placed his hand on the inside of my thigh and stroked upward.

I have work tomorrow. My traitorous cock twitched, and I pushed his hand away. Shit, it was bad when I couldn't even remember the guy's name.

On a Sunday?

Yeah, I work in a gym.

Nice one, Dean. Giving away personal stuff.

Oh, cool. Which one? He moved away a little and the bedside lamp flicked on, temporarily blinding me. I blinked rapidly and slid out of the bed, grabbing for my underwear.

Um— I mumbled unintelligibly and dragged on my boxer briefs.

What was that?

Fitness First. I didn't usually outright lie, but if I told him I worked at Hercules he'd know where to find me. If not, he could soon find it on the Internet.

We should work out together some time. I haven't been to the gym in a while, but I used to be a member of Body Talk.

Yeah, maybe. I worked at Body Talk a couple of years ago. I pulled up my jeans and scrabbled around on the floor for socks, vaguely remembering having tossed them across the room in my anxiety to get them off when we'd stumbled into Wes's room last night. Wes, that was his name. Who the fuck was called Wes in 2015? Maybe his parents were fans of Wesley Snipes.

—Your number?

Um— I straightened up, shirt in hand, abandoning the sock-search. Look, mate, I'm sorry. I don't want to do this again, okay?

His face fell a mile and the light in his eyes dulled. He struggled to maintain a smile and I felt like a real shit. This was precisely why I usually exited while the going was good.

No problem. He shrugged, but then slumped against the pillows. It was fun though, yeah?

Yeah. It was a good night. Take care. I jammed my bare feet into my shoes and made for the door, scrunching up my face as soon as I turned my back. I was a twat. I knew it, but I couldn't help it. For me relationships were a waste of time. Even one date was a waste of time, because it got their hopes up and then—

Fuck it. I halted with my hand raised towards the door of his flat. I left my fucking phone on the bedside table.

You left your phone. Wes appeared in front of me, naked, my phone in his hand. I was gonna put my number in, just in case, but it's locked so I wrote it down for you. He passed me the phone with a little Post-It note stuck to it, on which he'd written his name and a mobile phone number.

Okay, thanks a lot. Quickly pocketing the phone, I pulled open the door. Wes grabbed me before I could step outside, jerked me against his body and planted a heated kiss on my mouth. I responded automatically until I felt his dick nudge my leg, drawing an eager response from mine. More reluctantly than I expected, I slid my hand between us and pressed against his chest, pushing him away. Maybe another round wouldn't have gone amiss, but I'd regret it later. I'll see you around.

Yeah. Bye.

Striding out into the night, I pulled out my phone again to check the time. Almost three, so the last underground train had long gone. I had no clue where I was either. After one too many drinks and with a hot guy clinging to me, I'd barely noticed getting on the train and travelling to his place. Pausing at the end of the street, I gazed around to get my bearings and noticed a street sign showing a south-west London postcode.

Fuck's sake. A taxi back to East Ham at this time of night would cost me a fucking fortune, but I didn't exactly have a choice. I walked a few hundred yards, hoping to find a major thoroughfare and a ride home. Much to my relief, within a few minutes a car pulled up at the side of the road and let out its drunken passengers. Its roof light came back on to indicate it was still taking fares and I lifted my arm to summon it. At least traffic would be light. I'd be home in thirty minutes.

Half an hour later and forty-five quid lighter, I trudged up the stairs in the house I shared with my best mate Ryan. My empty stomach urged me to head for the kitchen, but heavy eyes and a headache drew me to my bed. Ryan's closed door indicated he was home, but no sound came from behind it. I wondered if he was alone, or if he'd brought back the fragile-looking blond boy he'd picked up in the club. More often than not, Ryan brought them back and I had to endure them making cow eyes at each other over breakfast, kissing and groping on the doorstep when they said goodbye. Unlike me, Ryan was a serial dater and would stick with the same guy for maybe a month or so before he got bored. Then he'd leave them broken-hearted and move onto the next, and the cycle would start again.

Yawning, I stepped into the bathroom to clean up. Five minutes later my head hit the pillow and sleep pulled me under.

* * *

Shit, I'm late. Gulping a blackberry smoothie, I glared at the clock on the microwave and wished I hadn't stayed so long with Wes. Drinking and fucking on a work night never ended well for me.

You're working today? Ryan sauntered into the kitchen, wearing only underwear and scratching his stomach.

You know I am.

Yeah. Forgot. Did you make coffee?

No. No time. Where's Twinkletoes? Did you bring him back?

Ryan grinned. His name's Danny. He's freshening up before the next round. How did your night go?

Don't ask.

That bad, huh? He was pretty hot.

Yeah. I nearly fucking fell asleep. Forty-five quid for a fucking taxi back.

Where the hell were you?

Brixton.

Ryan snorted and switched on the kettle. I don't know why you don't just bring them back here. Wouldn't it be easier?

You know why. Grabbing my gym bag, I checked the contents, then added a bottle of water from the fridge and a couple of bananas.

Yeah, you don't want them to know where you live. It's not like they're going to come around knocking on the door if you tell them to fuck off in the morning. Most guys don't like rejection, Dean.

I have to go.

Back for dinner?

I finish at six.

Chinese? Ryan called after me as I opened the door. Danny's staying today. We'll be too busy for cooking.

Yeah, whatever. See you. I slammed out of the house and broke into a run as I headed for the underground. I had a booking for a sports massage in less than an hour and the way things were going, I'd have to call ahead and apologise.

Much to my relief I made it on time. My shift flew by and I arrived home at six thirty. I found Ryan and Danny cuddling on the couch watching Star Wars, and an array of half empty Chinese cartons on the coffee table. Grabbing a plate, I shovelled a selection of food onto it and blitzed it in the microwave. The late-night trip across London and the early start had exhausted me. I couldn't wait to go to bed and just sleep.

So, do you know what day it is next week? Ryan waggled his eyebrows at me and waited.

There're seven days next week, dickhead, I mumbled around a mouthful of rubbery noodles.

What day is it on Friday?

I don't know. Did I miss your birthday? I knew I hadn't. Ryan's birthday was the week after mine, in February.

It's the first of May, dude. First fuck of the month day. You know what that means.

Fuck off.

What's this? Danny asked.

It's a stupid game we play where we go out on the first day of the month, or as near to it as possible, and pick out a guy for each other to fuck that night, I explained.

The colour slid from Danny's face and his eyes widened. He glanced worriedly at Ryan.

Twat. Ryan glared at me and tugged Danny closer. It's okay, babe. I won't be taking part. You and me can go out together. He pressed a kiss onto Danny's lips and squeezed his arse.

Really? Danny looked sceptical.

I was just joking. I sighed. We have done that a few times, but Ryan prefers to date.

Ryan mouthed thanks at me and kissed Danny again. So, Dean?

I'm not doing it if you're out of the equation. It's stupid and you always pick someone who's not my type.

That's the whole point. It makes things more interesting.

What is his type? Danny asked.

Kind of like him, Ryan said. Beefy sort of guys. Not cute and sexy like you.

I mimed sticking my fingers down my throat and retching. There's nothing wrong with liking a bit of muscle. Putting my plate down, I hooked one leg over the arm of the chair and slouched down into the cushions. "What the hell. I'll do it one more time. I know it