Page 48 of The Toy Collector

“We’ve got everything covered,” James finishes.

Slade nods, satisfied, but I’m no longer paying attention. The pressure inside me is building to a fever pitch, a storm surge of black pleasure.

With a calculated tug, I angle Piper’s face. A quick glance down—just enough to aim at her face. Two sharp strokes, and I fucking erupt. Cum shoots from my cock, splashing onto her face. I grit my teeth so hard my vision spots, but no sound escapes.

I glance down again. Fuck, my toy has never looked more beautiful than right now when she’s drenched in my cum. And, to her credit, she remains quiet. Not a single sound escapes her.

This is how she should always look—filthy, and most of all,mine.

Releasing Piper’s hair, I tuck myself away and refasten my pants while she slumps back on her heels, trembling. I glance at my watch, noting the time. The cigar has long gone out beside me, but the scent still lingers.

“If that’s all…” Trailing off, I rise smoothly, buttoning my suit jacket.

James scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in his eagerness to escape. Slade stands as well, her eyes flickering briefly to the desk.

“Always apleasure,” she drawls, emphasizing the last word. “We’ll leave you to it. Don’t forget to let the girl up for air.” She smirks as they leave.

Chapter 18

Lorenzo

Even now, her head is held high. I watch her chest rise and fall in uneven bursts, my cum trickling down her lips like a promise I have no intention of breaking. When I reach for her, it’s slow and deliberate—a brush of two fingers against her jaw. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my heart hurt.

“Are you ready to get up?” I ask.

“Y-yes,” she croaks, her voice hoarse from not being used.

My tie stays across her eyes as I help her out from under my desk. One hand at her nape, the other tracing the line of her shoulder, testing the fragility of the fabric beneath my grip. She wobbles a little when she’s standing, but I’m there to catch her, pulling her closer, setting the pace.

“Thank you.” Her voice cracks at the edges, and I have to bite back the satisfaction that swells inside me. That tremor, like everything else about her, is so fucking addictive.

I settle her into my chair, arranging her limbs like she’s breakable, which earns me a huff. Pressing a kiss to the top of her hair, I whisper, “I’ll be right back, Toy.”

Tilting her head, she wordlessly follows my movements as I walk into my private bathroom. I’m only gone for a couple of minutes, returning with a cloth. I wordlessly begin to clean her, swiping the wet fabric across her face almost reverently.

She shivers when I wipe a dollop of cum from the corner of her mouth with my finger. “Open up,” I command. Obeying, she parts her lips, and I don’t hesitate to move my finger into her mouth. “You shouldn’t waste what I’ve given you.” My tone is low and filled with gravel.

A groan is torn from my throat when my naughty little toy snakes her tongue around my finger, licking my cum away.

Pulling my finger back out of her warm, wet mouth, I trace her bottom lip with my thumb before slipping my hand back to her jaw. “You’re perfect like this.” My voice is threaded with quiet praise.

She lets out a soft, shaky breath. It ghosts over my wrist, warming the skin. I press the damp cloth to her cheek again, slower this time, watching the way her body responds to every pass—shoulders curving in, her chest heaving.

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” I ask, folding the cloth and throwing it aside. “I’ve had food prepared, and the wine has probably already been opened.”

She tenses, and I run my knuckles down her throat in response, grounding her.

“Tell me, Toy, do you want to go home?”

No matter her answer, I’m not taking her anywhere. I have this entire evening planned, and I wasn’t lying when I said the food was already prepared. But I want her towantto stay. Coerced volition always tastes better than being forced.

She hesitates—just long enough for me to taste it. “Can I take the blindfold off?” she asks hesitantly.

“No.”

Sighing, she nods. “Fine. I want to stay.” There’s a hint of a bite in her tone, letting me know she’s not too happy about continuing to be robbed of her ability to see.

I text Maria, letting her know we’re ready to eat, and it takes less than ten minutes before she knocks on the door. Piper gasps, tensing. I feel her surprise the way I feel everything else—hungrily.

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