Page 23 of A New Year's Toy

With one last bite of her skin, I release Nola altogether and take a step back.

“Out of that dress. Now.”

Nola obeys, staring me in the eye. Her hand goes under one short sleeve, shoving it down her arm. The other follows. The beige fabric slides down her curves, bunching at her boots.

Her beige lace bra leaves very little to the imagination. Soft, round mounds are squeezed out of the demi cups, and pert nipples poke beneath them.

My gaze skates to her matching panties, to the mess I left them in. The waistline is scrunched, the wet crotch clings to her folds. The dark, wet line in the center of her panties is recent. It’s fucking mouthwatering.

One heel at a time, she spreads her toned legs. I nod in appreciation, while the rest of me holds still as a statue. I don’t bother looking at her, shrugging one shoulder and pretending her arousal didn’t just make my balls tighten.

“Do I please you?”

“Your boots.” I jerk my chin toward them. “Bend over for me and take them off.”

She turns, giving me a view of her ass, unable to see me extracting the crop paddle whip out of Avryll’s bag. It’s much smaller than ours, a deliverer of a sting rather than a thudding sensation. Perfect for the current state of Nola’s behind.

I approach her, launching short, calculated spanks on her mildly-reddened thighs.

Right thigh, left thigh, and again.

She lets out this choked sound that has me fisting my cock. Another two higher toward her ass, and Nola stops altogether.

“What do we have here?”

“I… Oh…” Snap, snap where her ass meets her thigh. “It’s so good, Alistair.”

“Does it seem like I care?”

Another string of softer smacks on her bottom coaxes suffocated sounds of desire out of her.

Each of my words has a swat accompanying it. “What. Did. I. Tell. You. To. Do?”

“My boots.” She’s breathing hard. “You said to take them off.”

I yank her panties to the middle of her thighs, gliding my fingers over her dripping slit.

“That’s right.” The small paddle strikes at the top of her crack. She makes a guttural sound, and my cock jerks in my pants. “And what is it that you’re doing?”

“I’m trying.”

A clear drop slips down her cunt, her desire dampening her inner thigh. She clutches on the zipper of her boot, giving it another go.

I watch. I’m patient.

But it’s not kindness dictating my mood.

My other plans for Nola do.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nola

“On your back,” Alistair growls.

The low sting of the paddle emphasizes his request. It pats my exposed pussy at a tempo that causes my legs to quiver.

I obey by placing one knee on the bed, starting to turn while grappling with the roaring lust which slows my process.

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