The sun was as bright as the champagne bubbles popping in the mimosas, and the sky no less radiant in its hue of blue. It was a morning on the knife edge of crisp and warm, the type of day where everyone regardless of age seemed just a bit younger, and if not hopeful, at least more keen to see what fate had in store for them.
For her part, Brisa felt like the embodiment of the day itself. Her skin was bronze, the chestnut of her hair shimmered with depth, and all of her girlfriends at the brunch table agreed that her eyes matched the sky just so. Her confidence was high and carefree, and she had the whimsical thought that she was some kind of Spring nymph made of flowers, sun, sex, and Prosecco. The patio around Brisa radiated that feeling back to her like a mirror as the energy of the patrons flowed with booze and bespoke waffle syrup, and she found herself sitting up a bit taller in her high ponytail, white bodysuit top, and boyfriend-cut jeans.
Speaking of boyfriends,
she thought.
He's the only thing that would make this morning better.
"You're daydreaming about Hunter, aren't you?"
Brisa looked to Chara, her best friend and resident mind-reader. She smiled in response, her cheeks coloring. "I can't help it. He's just my person."
Chara reached out and gave Brisa's hand a squeeze. "You're adorably nauseating, you know that? What's your man up to anyway?"
"Oh, just off being a hero again," Brisa said. "His shift at the fire department went long this morning. He texted that he was on his way to a fire right before he was supposed to go off-duty, so who knows when he'll be home."
Shaking her head, Chara gave Brisa a look of mock sympathy. "You poor thing. I know you're barely hanging in there with your hot firefighter boyfriend away for a day at a time."
Brisa rolled her eyes, hiding a smile behind a champagne flute as she sipped at her mimosa. Chara's attention was taken by another of the girls at their table, and Brisa used the opportunity to pull out her phone. She took a moment to admire the picture on her lock screen: Hunter kissing her cheek in a closeup selfie, his right hand cupping at her throat gently, but wholly possessive. The image was sweet, but the subtle dominance in her boyfriend's aura made Brisa breathe out an exhalation of haughty annoyance. Fuck she missed Daddy.
Hunter: Where are you, sweet girl?
The text notification popped onto Brisa's screen as if by magic; her desire conjuring his attention like a witch's spell. Her fingers flew across the screen, typing a reply.
Brisa: I'm at brunch with the girls. We're at that new place on 45th called The Nine Lives. Where are you, Sir? I've missed you sooooo much.
Her eyes intent on the screen, she waited for Hunter's response. The time in the corner of the phone mocked Brisa as it ticked away a minute, then two, and three. She frowned, her full lips pouting.
Brisa: Daddy?
Silence followed, the messages app remaining cruelly unchanged minute after minute. Brisa clacked her phone down beside her plate, screen down. Chara arched an eyebrow at her as Brisa forked a piece of omelette into her mouth.
"You good, girl?"
Brisa spoke through her food, uncharacteristically ill-mannered in the throughs of her frustration. "Hunter has both the sexiest and the most infuriating job in existence."
"Look at me," Brisa continued, gesturing to her figure with the empty fork. "I look so fuckable right now, and it's all just wasted on you bitches." Brisa swallowed the rest of her bite before giving Chara a smile, "No offense, babe."
"None taken," Chara laughed.
It was at that moment that Brisa's phone dinged. Chara forgotten, the fork in Brisa's hand clattered onto the plate as she pulled the device to her face, unlocking the screen.
Hunter: Come to the family restroom in the back. Now.
A shiver went rippled from the top of Brisa's neck, down to the small of her back. Butterflies erupted with wingbeats in her stomach. She stood, sliding the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Chara was looking at her with a quizzical expression, a Bloody Mary poised just near her mouth.
"Everything okay?"
Biting at her lip, Brisa nodded. "I'm fine. I just need to...um. I need to pee."
Brisa pushed back her chair and spun on the balls of her Vans, leaving Chara and the rest of the girls at the table frozen in bemusement at her abrupt departure. She wove her way through the restaurant, stepping around tables, waiters, and serving trays. All the while her heart was racing with excitement at the prospect of her man having come to surprise her.
She made it to the rear hallway of the restaurant, her blood thrumming in her ears. The sounds of the busy dining area seemed to fall away with each step, Brisa's focus becoming sharper as she reached her destination. There were three doors: the men's restroom, the women's, and then a third marked with the symbol of a stick figure parent and child holding hands--the family restroom. Brisa took a breath, and pushed against the third door.
The solid wood gave way to her push, opening silently. Her gaze opened along with the door, met first with a mirror and sink, shining tile walls, and at last, Hunter. In the breadth of a heartbeat she drank him in. Tall, muscled, and tattooed, a symphony of dark hair and handsome features crescendoing to bright green eyes, an angled jawline, and a heavy brow. He was wearing dark jeans, a black tee that hugged his flat stomach and broad chest, and boots that gave his large presence an aura of predatory size.
Brisa began to smile, opening her mouth to greet her love, her Sir, her Daddy. She was given no opportunity however, as one of Hunter's hands darted forward to yank her into the restroom by the forearm that had been pushing through the door. Brisa let out a little yelp of surprise as her back was slammed into the wall beside the sink, the click of the deadbolt locking sounding like a punctuation to the sudden movement. Hunter's grip on her forearm was like the squeeze of a vice, anchoring her in place. His other hand was suddenly knotted in the hair at the nape of her neck, loosening her ponytail. His lips pressed into hers.
The kiss was violent, hot, needy, and deep. Brisa melted into Hunter instantly, her body responding like a trained animal to the force of her Daddy's will. Moaning into the kiss she let her senses expand, her consciousness filling entirely with him. Her man smelled of smoke, musk, and soap--a masculine elixir that accentuated the sensation of the peaks and valleys of his muscles moving against her body. Brisa gasped a breath as she felt Hunter's heavy cock pressing into her stomach trough the taught denim of his jeans, and her fingers fumbled to release his belt. Just as she managed to undo the top button of his pants, Hunter broke their kiss.
The hand that had been at the back of her neck clamped over her mouth and nose, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes went wide, and Brisa obediently fixed her gaze to that of her Dom's.
"I've needed you so fucking bad," Hunter growled. "Don't make a fucking sound. You're going to be Daddy's living, breathing, fuck toy. A pretty set of holes. My lovey little cum dumpster slut."
Hunter's grip around her mouth grew momentarily tighter, emphasis as he leaned closer. "Do you fucking understand me?"
