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“Jesus,” he groans, allowing his eyes to roll back in his head. “So fucking wet.”
“Sex toys don’t talk, Nick.” My movements quicken, the pressure of his muscular thigh pressed to my core coupled with the friction from his pants against my clit driving me further toward the cliff of my impending orgasm.
“Mmmhmm.” He mumbles out a strained response. Chancing a glance up at him, I’m met with an unexpected sight. The typical rugged arrogance that normally lends itself to his confidence is nowhere to be found. Instead, I find his brows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut in the presence of his tortured expression.
I alter my movements, shifting to an oscillating rhythm at a slightly slower pace.
“What’s the matter, Nick?”
“Nothing,” he rasps. “Not a fucking thing. Fuck, don’t stop,” he pleads.
“Does Daddy wanna talk to me?”
His eyes shoot open, the typically bright blue darkening with an intense desire. I knew it. Nicky loves dirty talk. Me telling him to shut up was probably worse than being told he can’t fuck me. The kicker is he’s fucking spectacular at it. Echoes of the filthy things he used to whisper in my ear dance in the recesses of my memory, and I’m suddenly overcome with such desperation, the next words just slip out.
“Do it. Tell your dirty little girl how much you missed this,” I beg in a soft whisper.
Every muscle in Nicky’s body simultaneously tenses. He continues to peer down at me, silently scanning my face as though seeking assurances that he heard me right.
“Tell me.” I switch back to riding his leg in a back-and-forth motion. “Tell me how good it feels to have me make a mess of you.”
Nicky dips down, drawing his lips to my ear. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve missed this pussy? Hmm? Two hundred and forty-eight days, demon? You better grind that pretty little cunt against me so hard that you fucking squirt to make up for an atrocity like that. You’re lucky I don’t take you out into the middle of this store and impale you on this fucking cock for everyone to see.”
I pick up the pace, the feeling of euphoria building within. “Is that what you want? To teach your disobedient little slut a lesson?”
“You are my little slut, aren’t you? My filthy little demon. Fuck. You’re such a bad girl, Daph. What happens to bad girls?”
“They get spanked, sir.” Oh, shit. I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck.
“Are you gonna make me spank you, Daph? Am I gonna have to rip that skirt off and send you home with my handprint on your ass?”
“No, sir,” I pant. “I’ll come for Daddy. I’ll be your good girl. I promise.”
My hands involuntarily start to roam over my body, mapping the outlines of my curves. My right one comes to rest on my stomach before slipping low in attempt to rub at my clit.
“Don’t,” Nicky bites out in a harsh tone, causing my hands to freeze. “You can’t pull up that skirt. Because the second I see it… the second I’m reminded of just how perfect your pussy is, I’m gonna drop to my knees and feast like I haven’t been fed a day in my life.”
Stars erupt behind my eyelids as a gush of liquid floods my center. My hands shoot out, gripping hold of Nicky’s biceps to steady myself as a powerful orgasm barrels through me like a freight train. I’m held captive to it, reduced to a quivering mess until the last shiver has coursed through my body.
Nicky’s hands drop to my waist, steadying me and allowing me to find my footing before releasing his hold. I stand before him, though remain propped against the shelves for additional support. As I glance down, my face heats with embarrassment as I take in the now-unobstructed view of the mess I’ve made of his expensive suit pants.
“Those are ruined. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.” Nicky readjusts his still prominent bulge with one hand while reaching for something on the shelf behind me with the other. When he pulls back, I see he’s clutching a decorative hand towel. “May I?” He gestures toward my thigh.
I consent, allowing his palm to encircle the outside of my thigh, lifting it up to his hip. He reaches down with his other hand, gently pressing the towel to my center, where he proceeds to clean me up. Satisfied when he’s done the best he can, he releases my leg.
As I readjust my skirt and my sweater, Nicky takes several steps backward, allowing the guilt and shame to begin their assault. Not cheating, my ass. Nicky’s previously defined terms as to why this wasn’t classified as such suddenly seem a lot less legitimate. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…
“Bet you’re glad you let me tag along now,” he jokes, flashing me that playboy smile.
However, in this moment, I don’t find him charming. I scoff, dipping low to swipe up my purse I’d discarded to the floor while moving to push past him.
“Hey.” His demeanor shifts, refusing to let me pass. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is I just acted like a complete and total slut, and not in the good way.” I’m quick to add on the last part considering that seems to be a point of praise for us.
“You’re not a slut, Daph,” Nicky seethes. “The way you are for me in the bedroom holds no bearing on who you are as a person.”
