Chapter 6 Caught in the Glow
Caught in the Glow
It’s a miracle I slipped out of Santo’s arms without detection. But I have a brilliant idea and I need more than the two minutes he usually gives me to breathe alone.
I quickly grab the LED lights I purchased and never used.
When we were decorating Santo insisted we wrap them around the tree or wrap them on the banisters since they’re battery operated, but I knew I was saving them for a moment like this.
I open the front door gently, holding my robe closed tightly and whisper toward Romeo.
His brown eyes meet mine, then quickly drop when he sees what I’m wearing.
“Would you like me to die today?” he hisses.
I chuckle. “Not at all. But I need the cameras off and full privacy. No one comes inside.”
“Boss is gonna lose his mind if I kill the feed.”
“Boss will lose more than his mind if you see me naked.”
Romeo blanches. “Shutting them down now.”
“Thank you!” I grin, backing into the house with my lights clutched to my chest.
“Vasi,” he calls after me, grim. “Tell him it was your idea.”
“Of course.” God help him if Santo thinks it was his.
I slip back inside, my heart racing with excitement.
The house is quiet, Santo’s still asleep upstairs.
I work quickly, unraveling the string of lights and strip off my robe before wrapping myself in the lights.
I maneuver them perfectly that the battery pack can sit in the pocket of my robe as I shrug it back on.
I click the Christmas lights on and giggle.
I’m a glowing present, ready for Scythe to unravel.
Now where do I want to position myself—
Thud.
Crash.
“Vasilisa!”
My heart thunders as Santo’s voice echoes through the house.
“Dea!”
His voice thunders through the house, rough with panic.
My stomach flips.
“Santo?” I call back. “I’m downstairs!”
The steps pound like thunder through the house, and I freeze in place, clutching my robe closed over my ridiculous light display. Maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all.
Santo appears at the bottom of the stairs, his hair wild, eyes frantic, wearing only his pajama pants. The relief on his face when he sees me is immediately replaced with suspicion.
“Why are you down here?” he demands, crossing the room in three long strides.
He grabs me immediately pulling me into his arms, his nose burying in my hair, before he pulls back to look at me.
His eyes narrow as he takes in my appearance, the loosely tied robe, the faint glow peeking through the fabric.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low but intense. He cups my face. “Why did you leave our bed without a word?” Why are the cameras off?”
“I didn’t want to wake you,” I explain, feeling smaller under his intense gaze. “I asked Romeo to turn them off, I was trying to be romantic.”
His jaw tightens. “Romantic to wake up alone? To find you gone?”
Oh.
I didn’t think about that.
After everything that happened last year…
“I’m sorry Santo.”
He sighs, wrapping his arms around me again. “I can’t handle it Dea.”
His fingers begin to roam the bumps under the robe.
“What’s that?” he asks, pulling back and gesturing to the glow beneath my robe.
I bite my lip, my eyes meeting his. “My surprise.”
His expression softens and he steps back with a smirk. “Show me.”
With nervous fingers, I untie my robe and let it fall open and on to the floor. The string of lights wrapped around my naked body illuminate my skin in a soft, golden glow. I’ve arranged them to accentuate my body, crisscrossing over my breasts and spiraling around my hips.
“I’m your early Christmas present,” I say softly, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. “I thought you might like to... unwrap me.”
Santo’s eyes darken, that familiar heat returning. He steps closer, one hand reaching out to trace the path of lights across my collarbone.
I shiver at his touch, heat blooming in their glowing wake. He always watches me, but the way he looks at me still makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world.
“You scared me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with lingering concern. “But this... this is a nice surprise.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, leaning into his touch. “I didn’t think about how you’d feel waking up alone.”
Santo’s eyes travel down my body, taking in every part illuminated by the soft glow of the lights. “How did you manage this by yourself?”
I smile, feeling my confidence return under his appreciative gaze. “Very carefully. It took some maneuvering.”
He circles me slowly, his fingertips never leaving my skin as he examines his “present” from every angle. The lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes.
“Beautiful,” he breathes. “My own personal Christmas angel.”
I laugh softly. “I was going for sexy, not angelic.”
“Trust me, Dea,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “There’s nothing innocent about the thoughts I’m having right now.”
My breath catches as he stops behind me, his chest pressing against my back, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below my ear. His hands slide around my waist, following the path of lights.
“How do I unwrap this particular gift?” he asks, his breath hot against my skin.
“Roughly I hope,” I whisper. “I’m in the mood for Scythe.”
He chuckles darkly, “You’re always in the mood for Scythe.”
He turns me to face him, his finger grazes under my chin and tilts my gaze up, “You want to be used, Dea? That what you need? Are you desperate for surrender?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need. “I want to surrender. I want to be used.”
His stormy eyes darken to midnight as his fingers tighten on my chin. Scythe emerges. His posture shifts, straightens.
“Spin for me,” he orders, his voice rough with command.
I obey instantly, my heart racing. The string of lights feel suddenly tight against my skin, the glow illuminating the hunger in his eyes when I face him again.
“You went through a lot of trouble,” he says, circling me slowly like a predator. “Left our bed. Scared me half to death. All for this… little show?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” I manage, my voice small.
“Oh, I’m surprised.” His finger hooks under one strand of lights between my breasts, tugging me rough toward him.
My breath catches, the heat of his body, consuming.
“Question is, what should I do with such a... thoughtful gift?”
I swallow hard, heat pooling between my thighs at his tone. “Whatever you want.”
His laugh is dark, dangerous. “Whatever I want? Dangerous words, Vasilisa.”
In one swift movement, he scoops me up, throwing me over his shoulder. I squeal, the lights pressing into my skin as he carries me to the couch.
“Santo!”
“Wrong name,” he growls, setting me down on my feet in front of the arm of the couch. “Try again.”
“Scythe,” I correct myself, breathless.
“Perfect,” he drawls.
He presses down hard on my back, bending me over the arm of the couch, lights digging into my skin in delicious, rough points.
The cool air licks between my thighs, and I know he sees everything, lit up, bare, soaking.
His palm drags down my spine, fingers hooking into the string of lights and tugging. “You tied yourself up in lights… and left our bed dripping. For me.”
“For Scythe,” I whisper.
A guttural sound tears from his throat. “Fuck.”
His hands leave me and then his cock presses against my entrance, thick, hot, unforgiving.
“You’re already so wet,” he growls, rubbing the tip against my clit, teasing me with maddening precision. “All mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please—”
He thrusts into me with a sharp, claiming stroke, and I choke on his name, my body jolting forward from the force.
“Scythe!”
“That’s it,” he hisses, hands gripping my hips like he owns them. Owns me. “You wanted to be used? You’re going to take every inch like a good little gift.”
He pulls out almost completely, then slams back in, the couch creaking beneath us. The lights press tighter against my skin with each movement, twisted between pain and pleasure.
“You feel that?” he rasps pausing, the weight and stretch of him overwhelming. “Your tight little pussy pulling me in like it’s starving?”
“Don’t stop,” I beg. “Please, please—”
His hand snakes around to my throat, just enough pressure to make me feel it. Just enough to make me his.
“You don’t get to beg,” he growls in my ear. “You surrender. You wanted to be used remember?”
“I do,” I cry. “Please Scythe.”
His teeth graze my neck before they sink in. I still, the pain and pleasure building as his thrusts keep pace. He licks the mark he leaves behind.
His hand leaves my throat. “Look at you,” he rasps, his fingers tangling in the lights, tugging just enough to make me gasp. “Fucking perfect.”
He sets a brutal pace, pulling me back by the lights as he thrusts hard.
“You’re mine,” he says, his voice dark velvet. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”
Each word punctuated with a thrust that sends me further into oblivion. My fingers dig into the couch cushions, desperate for something to anchor me as he drives into me relentlessly.
“I know you’re hiding something, and I’m going to fuck it out of you.”
I gasp, my entire body tensing at his words. The pleasure building inside me stutters as panic flashes through me.
“W-what?” I manage, my voice breaking.
“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his voice like gravel. “Not when I’m inside you. Not when you’re about to come.”
And I am falling apart. Despite my panic, despite the secret I’m desperately trying to hold onto until the right moment, my body can’t hold back. The coil of pleasure tightens with each thrust, with each brush of the lights against my sensitized skin.
“Tell me,” he demands, his rhythm slowing to torturous, deep strokes that make my vision blur. “What are you hiding from me, Vasilisa?”
I bite my lip hard, trying to focus, trying not to blurt out the truth.