Page 48 of Toy Shop

A tall, blonde woman stands at the door, an ivory-colored bag in her hand. “Delivery for Miss Vickers.”

Alistair must be so smug right now, listening to his master plan unfold.

“Thank you.” I accept the gift, closing the door behind her, and returning to Alistair. “Am I supposed to open it?”

“Yes. Open it and wear it. You’ll cover yourself in regular clothes, go down to the shop to arrange the order I placed ten minutes ago, and have it delivered to my home with Jeremiah. He’s waiting outside.” The cocky Alistair clashes with the dripping-with-sex one. “More instructions will wait for you at home. Prepare to have each and every hole of your body thoroughly fucked, sweetheart.”

Alistair doesn’t wait for my reply.

He hangs up.

Leaving me all hot and really, terribly bothered.

Lord, help me.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Alistair

“Alistair?”

Nola’s sweet voice bounces around the house. The clinking of her heels, then their dull thuds, signal that she’s moved out of the foyer and into the living room. Unlike the first time she came to meet me here, I’m not standing at the door to greet her.

While I adore her, changed thanks to her, I’m no less of an inflictor of pain. A part of that pain is the slight uncertainty I’m planting in her.

This will only last a minute. I am, after all, not a monster.

And besides, I couldn’t prolong it even if I wanted to. I’m hurting just the same being away from her.

I tap on the phone to turn on You Really Got a Hold on Me, covered by VCTRYS, and it drifts into the hidden speakers across my home. I’m silent in the seconds she’s alone, letting the music wash over her.

She pauses where she’s at, looking around the room. I’m invisible to her in the hallway leading to one of the guest rooms.

That’s not to say she’s invisible to me.

In my phone’s CCTV app, I have a clear view of the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She has the mass of her wavy, full hair running free down her shoulders. Her body is covered by a floor-length gray cardigan she disposes of as she scours the living room for me. Nola taps into my wishes on her own, aware I’m watching her.

She reveals the black leather corset mini-dress I sent her, the fishnet tights, the black heels. My dick is painfully hard. My hands itch to hurt and love her body and soul, alike. I leave the phone on the floor and step into the living room to meet her.

“Good evening.” I rub my chin, assessing her.

“Hey.”

“You’re a good girl, wearing the clothes I sent you.”

My Nola nods, her teeth sink into the bottom lip she painted red, sucking it in.

Pausing my walk about three feet from her, I ask, “You have something for me?”

Her eyes dart to the bag in her hand, almost forgotten, handing it to me.

“Good girl.” I take it from her, tossing it to the side.

“I… What?” The confused look while in the black corset only serves to enhance her sensuality.

“Twirl, let me have a look at you.” The words are as sharp as a whip, and she immediately does my bidding.

In a slow, erotic show of the sinful outfit I’d bought her, she opens her arms and allows me to examine every inch of her. The front has a silver zipper crossing it, a silk ribbon crisscrosses at the back, and is tied in a bow, symbolizing my hold on her.

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