Page 44 of Toy Shop

And what that knowledge does to me… It’s beyond words. A loud cry gushes out of me and I come so fiercely, I dent and bend the leather in my mouth.

My orgasm still pummels through me when Alistair rips the belt out of my teeth and forces himself on me. His lips slant on my wet ones, his tongue swiping across my them before dashing beyond my teeth.

The taut muscles cording his body tense, his hand slides up my calf to the heel of my raised foot and he lands the final thrust. Alistair’s cock pins me to the wall and suddenly he consumes my entire existence. He’s dynamite exploding within me, an all-demanding fire.

“Come home with me,” he whispers, spreading kisses on my cheek, down my jaw, capturing my lips.

My heart is in my throat, and the brightest smile is spread across my lips. “I will. I will.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alistair

“Are you comfortable?” I tuck Nola into my naked chest under the black duvet stitched in gold, encouraging her lean leg to tangle into mine.

“M-hmm,” she hums.

My Nola can’t quite keep her eyes open after the long drive and the rough pounding she took so fucking well on the way over. Hell, she almost fell asleep while I got both of us cleaned in a long, warm shower, her eyelids droopy when I applied ointment on the welts on her thigh.

She’s dressed in one of my T-shirts, nothing underneath it.

I love her naked.

Wait. That’s not accurate.

I love every bit of her.

Tilting my head lower, I watch Nola in her near-sleep state. Her long eyelashes flutter on her cheeks. Her lips are a tad swollen from the belt, and our uninhibited kisses whenever we stopped at a red light, or a stop sign, or at my home’s garage.

This girl is gorgeous. Perfect. Cosmic.

She owns me, and in the infinity link we formed between us, she’s also mine.

Mine.

The word swirls in my head then dips out to reach my tongue, as I murmur into her soft hair, “My baby. You’re mine.”

She stirs from the dream she slowly drowsed into. Her tortured lips curve up in a conniving smile.

“I am.” She snuggles closer, sneaking out of the duvet I tucked her into.

The shirt she’s wearing hikes up. Below the sheets, I can feel the silky area connecting her thigh and pussy grazing my leg.

I’m hard by the mere hint of it. My hand shifts lower along the curve of her spine, pulling the hem of her shirt higher. I brand her ass with my palm, my five fingers covering a firm, round butt cheek, moving to hover above her tight asshole.

Unfortunately, it’s too soon. Her wet pussy meets the straining muscles of my thigh…

“Ouch.” Her wince is visible, despite her attempt to hide it.

I stop immediately, covering her up and stroking her thigh in tender, compassionate caresses. The interest and desire to be the owner of pain doesn’t trickle into real life. It never, not ever crosses the line into the after-care part.

“I’m okay.” She puts on a brave face, which I admire.

Admire, but don’t fall for it.

“No.” I capture the hand she’s slinking down my chest to the waistband of my boxer briefs. My lips brush her knuckles, the back of her palm, her wrist. “We have days and weeks, months and—if you’d still want this old man by then—we’ve got years.”

My humor helps her relax against me, to relieve her of the need to be brave. Her soft laughter is a flock of butterflies across my skin. “You’re not old.”

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