Page 22 of A New Year's Toy
It isn’t far-fetched that she’d go through my suitcase for a shirt she’ll want to sleep in and find a bump in the shape of a silk box. I have zero control over it. I just have to pray she won’t. Like I pray for her—the love of my life, the woman I never thought I’d deserve but secretly wished for—to say yes.
“I bet you’ll come up with a solution for both.”
“There’s nothing, absolutely nothing,”—I take her chin between my fingers, lowering my face until our noses meet—“I won’t do for you.”
Nola’s hand explores the length of my thigh, trailing up and down, sending bolts of fire throughout me whenever her hand brushes my balls or her thumb strokes the base of my shaft.
I grip her shoulder as a warning. She ignores it altogether.
She twists her head, whispering to me, “You’re so good to me, Daddy.”
“Not for long,” I grit out.
“So caring.” Her hand courses up my hardening dick, squeezing and rubbing it the way she knows drives me crazy. “So loving. So. Fucking. Hot.”
The driver pulls over. I tear my eyes from Nola’s neck, against my steadfast wish to bite it, and look outside.
The Haussmann-style building, the orange glow of the lobby, the bare, lit trees flanking the entrance.
Our hotel.
When the door opens, I don’t waste a single moment. I pull the coat over Nola’s head again, take the yellow bag in one hand, gripping Nola’s in the other.
“You’re free for the night. See you tomorrow evening.” I thank our driver and stalk off with my woman.
“We’re not doing any more sightseeing in the morning?” Teasing lingers in her voice.
“We will. In the evening.” We walk briskly past the concierge straight to the old elevators. The bellboy jogs toward us. I shake my head subtly in a No, thanks gesture.
“After you catch up on some sleep hours and rest.” I pin her to the ascending elevator’s wall, grinding my body to hers. My palm rounds her jaw, angling her head up, and I nip at her bottom lip. “Because tonight, sweetheart, you’re not getting either.”
I catch her gasp with my mouth, devouring her in a long, punishing kiss. We battle one another until the elevator’s melodic ping clamors.
Waiting for her ceases to be a viable option. I shift the bag up my arm, hoisting Nola up, and slinging her over my shoulder. Her laughter shakes her soft belly. Feeling it is as much of a turn-on as listening to her melodic giggles.
But there’s nothing like her gasps.
My palm lands on her ass in a sharp thump that echoes in our private hallway, and she grunts. There’s such a satisfaction to it, to have her under my complete and utter mercy, whimpering in pain, that I do it twice more.
“Again,” she moans.
Inside our room, I kick the door back. I peel up Nola’s skirt and bite her ass on my walk to the bed, sucking and tormenting the tender piece of flesh without faltering.
“Greedy girl.” I traverse past the suite’s expansive living room on its farmhouse rug, careful not to bump into the antique wood tables and sofas.
The soundtrack of Nola’s half-yelps, half-moans beats having Beethoven playing in the background, and my constant afflictions ensure she sings to me all the way to the four-poster bed.
“You’ll only ask for something when I give you permission to speak your mind.” I toss Nola onto the bed. The mattress’s springs creak at the same time the air heaves out of Nola’s lungs.
“Unless you’re okay with not getting what you want.” I furrow my brow meaningfully. “I won’t repeat myself.”
Nola pushes off the coat I had on her, biting her bottom lip, playful and tempting all at once. “Yes, Daddy.”
God-fucking-dammit. I almost drop on one knee then and there to ask her to be my wife. But I rein it in.
“That’s better.” I curl my fingers around her wrist, pull her up to tear off her coat, and twist her to face the other side of the room.
I tug on her hair, moving it away to clear the left side of her neck. My lips are at the shoulder I’ve been fantasizing about, my free hand lowering the zipper of her dress to where the crack of her ass begins.
