Cupid’s Naughty Elf

1. Liam

1

LIAM

DECORATING HIS ELF…

T hat sinful fucking mouth.

So pouty and sweet. Plump and bitable.

Her lips are slightly parted and painted a bright, merry red with just the tiniest hint of shimmer that catches the soft lighting inside my bedroom. They beckon me closer—an exquisite tease that sends a featherlight stroke down the underside of my cock—and I clench my fingers around the glass tumbler in my hand, creating a hairline crack that travels from rim to base.

She’s done this to me—taken my rationality and destroyed it with each coquettish grin. With the breathy way she says my name or the innocent hugs that always last a few seconds longer than appropriate.

Three years.

I played her game from the shadows, protected what is mine, while the little sugar plum spent her time teasing me with her sinful curves. And while her cousin, my business partner, gave me knowing grins—I scared off any man who looked her way.

I broke a few bones, too.

I’ve never hidden my intentions. Never lied or touched another woman, either.

She was born to be mine, and I’ve waited for three long fucking years. A thousand and ninety-five days where I pretended to be the saint I’m not for her to turn twenty-one before I claimed her

And tonight, I’ll collect:

Piper Christmas Valentine.

A little cock tease born on Christmas day.

My soon-to-be wife whose maiden name name will one day be our wedding day.

I will never deny myself again.

Because everything about this woman was simply created for me.

To tease. To haunt. To destroy. Her mere breathing is a fiery stroke that pulls beads of pre-come from my engorged tip, and I feel each pearl-like drop as it slips from the slit, an almost painful clench of my abdomen following before they disappear into the fabric of my dress pants.

“Five more minutes.” The deep rumble comes from my chest seconds after my eyes shift to the alarm clock on my nightstand. It startles the little morsel on my black satin sheets; she’s half-asleep and twisting, slowly coming to while a small, kittenish mewl sweeps past her lips. It's such a pretty sound. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

The dark color contrasts perfectly against her lightly tanned skin, an advantage of living in a state where going to the beach on Christmas Day isn’t unheard of. Not this winter, though. Florida’s experiencing an unnatural cold front with temperatures dipping well into the low twenties, yet it hasn’t been a deterrent for her. No. She stepped out of my favorite holiday fantasy in an indecent little number last night at our annual Friendsmas party, sealing her fate and breaking my prideful control.

Naughty, naughty Piper.

“Three minutes.” The deep timbre of my voice carries throughout the room, and her face—eyes still closed—turns in my direction. Her brows are furrowed while the slutty elf outfit exposes a little more skin with each sensual shift. Not that she’ll get far. Her movements are limited , at best.

I made sure of it after my sweet darling asked for a ride home, only to fall asleep in my car.

And I’m not the least bit ashamed of taking advantage.

Of gently transferring her from my car to my bed and then admiring the view.

Piper’s wearing a tiny velvet corset in a rich, deep green and matching tiny shorts that ride up, leaving little to the imagination. Each time she moves, the fabric molds to her curves, highlighting every inch of flesh I vow to claim before the sun rises. But more than that, she’s my present for the years of cold showers and self-given hand jobs, I’ve suffered through while patiently waiting for this special birthday. She’ll be twenty-one in a few minutes, and I’m savoring the moment.

Our memories:

The years of following her every move.

The years of denying every man who attempted to get close.

I’ve let her live her life while she shamelessly flirts with me at every turn, watching from the shadows while ignoring every coy grin and sway of her hips. Pretending the way she’d place a delicate hand on my arm—turned a blind eye to the tiny dimple that makes a sexy appearance when my sweet girl smirks—wasn’t created by God himself to torment me.

She’s temptation divine. So fucking beautiful.

“Sixty seconds.” Taking a sip from my bourbon, I exhale roughly before undoing my belt and pulling it from the loops before tossing it aside. It lands near my discarded shirt, shoes, and socks—the small clang reverberates throughout the room, causing my endearing darling to tense.

For her lips to pucker while her adorable nose crinkles and her eyelids twitch.

Piper’s becoming restless. Alert. Finally taking in the predicament she’s in.

And then it...

“What the hell,” Piper whispers, tugging on her right hand but only lifting her wrist a few inches off the mattress. Then the other. Both movements test her binds, and each attempt meets the same result.

Confusion. A spike in adrenaline: hers and mine.

Her legs also meet the same fate.

From her ankle to mid-thigh, she’s held in place by my surprise , and the more she tests each restraint, the more her anxiety grows. It’s there in the rapid rise and fall of her chest—how her bottom lip quivers—and yet she doesn’t open her eyes.

My poor, helpless elf.

Motherfuck, she’s precious.

And while I’m sure this will earn me a punch to the ribs later—Piper can be a little violent at times—I’ve read her diary and know her darkest desires. Secrets she writes down in the form of a story, a dirty novella, from her bed every night. The characters don’t have names, just mentions of a man and a woman, but there’s no denying the descriptions fit us.

From our physical to our mannerisms. It’s us—her desires.

And at the end of each entry, our names are written in a perfectly drawn heart.

Liam + Piper

Til Death

Even afraid, there’s no hiding the puckering of her nipples beneath the velvet corset or the goosebumps across her soft skin. My teeth ache at the sight—my cock throbs, and yet I don’t move.

No. Instead, I start the mental countdown. Twenty seconds left.

Each tick of the clock sends a fiery lick across my every nerve ending, from the tips of my toes to the base of my skull and down again to my engorged tip. The years of blue balls and denial were for this moment.

She’s my prize. My most coveted possession.

At fifteen seconds, I stand up and undo the button of my slacks before lowering the zipper.

At seven seconds, I pull my cock out and stroke it, slow and leisurely from base to tip.

“One,” I hiss from between clenched teeth as the room fills with soft, holiday lights, and two things happen simultaneously. Her eyes snap open and her head turns my way, those gorgeous hazel orbs meeting mine. They widen and her pouty mouth forms my name, but no words come out.

Then, there’s the smart speaker beside her.

It comes to life and my voice filters through, the opening notes of the traditional Happy Birthday song causing her lips to twitch. There’s a hint of amusement in her hazel eyes, and I can almost see the sassy response sitting on the tip of her tongue—she thinks this is a joke—but then Piper fully takes me in:

Naked.

Cock hard.

Feral need on my face.

Her lips open, but no words come out as she watches me stroke myself. Piper never looks away, and I don’t stop. Instead, I tighten my grip and revel in the way her pupils dilate and her teeth embed themselves into her bottom lip. How she tries to close her thighs but can’t because my little festive decorations don’t allow it.

All she can do is swallow hard and clench her hands in frustration. Look at me with heated eyes while my smirk deepens.

This is her doing.

I warned her last night.

Stopping at the edge of the bed, I lean over her strapped right foot and pump a few times in rapid succession, watching with pride as a few pearl-like drops slip from the slit and onto her candy-cane-painted toes.

I’m marking her. The first of many tonight.

Before sunrise, Piper Christmas Valentine will be filthy and full of me.

She’s at my mercy. My perfect little fuck toy.

The pre-cum slides down her toes, leaving a trail of my scent across her skin, and a pleasurable shiver rushes up my spine. The force of it causes my abs to clench and my cock to throb so hard it’s nearly painful, something she notices.

Fuck. She’s the most beautiful canvas.

Hooded eyes look at me from under long lashes, a small smile curling at the edge of her pouty mouth. Her tone is almost challenging. “What is the meaning of this, Mr. Rutherford?”

Motherfuck, I want to bite her.

I want to spread that sinful shade of red across her lips with the head of my cock before feeding her every solid inch. She’d be so beautiful while choking on all ten inches, those pretty hazel eyes looking up at me with tears running down her cheeks, and I’d follow each drop.

Revel in the mess I’ve created. Soon.

Because I’ve added every single one of her sins to a naughty list and detailed each respective punishment underneath:

Spanking.

Denial.

Choking: use as my personal cock-sleeve.

She’ll cry. Beg. And I’ll deny her until the lightest stroke of my tongue across her sensitive clit sets her off, but first...

Eyes on her, I fuck my fist with tight pumps of my hips. For every low whimper that escapes her, I drag my thumb across the swollen tip and spread the collecting beads down the shaft. I’m swollen and throbbing, pleasure spiking across my every nerve ending, but it’s the way her small pink tongue glides across her bottom lip that hammers the final nail in her coffin.

Rope after rope of cum decorate her feet, sliding down from her dainty toes to the delicate ankle bracelet I bought for her birthday last year. Beautiful. Rubbing the tip across the mess I’ve made, I make sure to spread it—rub it in—not stopping until Piper’s feet are shiny, and her hips unconsciously lift in invitation.

Her thighs tremble, too, shorts pulled tight against her wet cunt. The fabric has a dark spot right above her entrance, highlighting her need for me.

For my touch. For a release.

She’s my perfect little Christmas tree.

“Liam, please. I?—”

“Patience, sugar plum.”

“But I’m?—”

“You shouldn’t have teased me, darling.”