Page 23 of Toy Shop

This girl. This fucking girl, driving me to break out of character. But I’m stronger than that, and the throaty, painful moan she emanates proves to me I’m stronger than her. I hold her down. I’m the one yielding the pain, in charge of life, her life. And it’s more than enough to eviscerate any sort of humor in me.

“Bet you have.” My fingers, coated in her juices, rise to her lips, parting them and pressing into her center. Her clit pulses under my middle finger while Nola’s moans are drawn out in fervency.

“You know what, Nolita? I don’t think we’ll need it today.”

“Okay, Da—” Her eyes scrunch, body steeling.

I’ve never been called Daddy by anyone, and I fucked young and older women, alike. Never imagined liking it. Sir, Master, yes. Never a Daddy.

It hasn’t crossed my mind, but the way Nola grants me control over her, this ultimate power to do as I will, I might just fucking love it.

I bend my head, jamming my finger up her jaw to have her look at me. “What’d you say, baby?”

“Nothing, nothing, ignore me.”

“Open your eyes.” It’s not a request. I make sure my voice leaves nothing to open interpretation.

She slowly glimpses at me, horrified.

“What did you call me?”

Her teeth puncture her bottom lip, her cheeks a fiery red. Her voice, that sexy ragged voice, hardly rises above a whisper. “Daddy.”

My balls tighten, a rush of heat pulsates like a bolt across my body. I return to rubbing her, to push her harder up against the glass window. “Say it again.”

“Daddy,” she groans louder when I slap and pinch her hardened nub, sticking her ass back against my groin.

Her guttural cry pierces me. I need to see her, really see her. I pull out of Nola, flip her around and shove her pants to her ankles, not wasting a second to take off her shoes. I don’t need the space, dying to have all of her surrounding me.

My lips are on her pussy so fast, she jolts at the contact. I’m not tender by nature, sucking and biting and scraping her clit between my teeth while my tongue flicks relentlessly on it. She yells, gyrating on my face.

Nola grips my hair on either side, encouraging me to do more. On any other day, I would’ve stopped, tortured her, blown on her wet, needy cunt as another form of inflicting anguish. Except I’m too far in to restrain myself.

I don’t stop pleasuring her, relentlessly eating her out. Christ, she’s exquisite in my mouth, her taste, and movements. She tightens, tiny pulses that tell me her orgasm is about to erupt, her tight nub ever harder.

And I’ll carry her there. I lift my hand to her breasts, tugging and pulling and twisting her pink, aroused nipple, then slap her supple tits, hard.

“Daddy, yes, Daddy, I’m coming.” Her whole body stops, her inhale echoes in the room. When she releases, she writhes and undulates in waves that I have to grip her tighter to keep her from falling.

I swipe my tongue across my lips to have more of her, then stand up. “Stay here.”

“But—” The post-orgasm apprehension dawns on her.

I squash it. “None of that. Take off your pants, turn to the window and wait for me with your palms up against the glass.”

She turns, and I grab her shoulder, forgetting I haven’t told her what I’d use for today’s play. Especially with her back to me, transparency and trust are invaluable.

“You’re going to get fucked with the vibrator you brought over and spanked hard with a paddle. Is that all right?”

She still looks somewhat in between here and there. I need her here for her approval. My hands cup her jaw, drawing her face to mine. “Nola, do you hear me?”

“I do.”

“What’s my name?”

This time, there’s no hesitation. “Daddy.”

“That too.” My lips quirk to the side. “What about my real name? Full name?”

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