Chapter 3
Aleksandr
Leaning in the doorway of the media room, I couldn’t help but smile. She’d done it again. Transformed not only us as men, but the entire house reflected her presence.
It was almost unbelievable how she’d come into our lives and changed everything—flipping this house upside down and making it a home. I couldn’t imagine life without her. Everywhere we looked, there were hints of her. Our lives were now whimsical, bright, and full of life.
The guys and I never decorated for Christmas. It wasn’t necessary before. Our family celebrations happened with our parents, a different tradition entirely. No reason to make a fuss here in a house full of bachelors. And yet, here she was—trying so hard to make this season special for all of us.
She’d turned the entire house into a winter wonderland about a week past. It was like the North Pole had invaded our home. And the media room where I found her had her signature all over it.
A grand Christmas tree, one of at least four, stood proudly in the corner. Its branches were decked out with silver and various shades of purple ornaments that shimmered in the soft glow of white lights.
Wrapped gifts adorned with matching ribbons and bows sat waiting for us. Each present would have been selected with intentional thought, worried over, second-guessed, and then ultimately chosen with love. Because that was how she was.
A fire was going, creating a whimsical scene. The mantel had lush garland intertwined with twinkling lights. She’d put a screensaver on the TV, and Christmas music played in the background.
And in the center, lying on her stomach in the middle of the room, completely oblivious to my presence, was the best thing that ever happened to us. She was wearing a cute Christmas sweater dress, something she’d added resembling Nik’s style.
Her legs were covered with white over the knee socks, and the dress had moved up far enough, I could see not only Ivan’s blade strapped to her thigh, but a hint of her sweet ass cheeks. They were calling my name.
She was surrounded by an explosion of crafting supplies—cards, paper, glitter pens, scissors, three poster boards, and what looked like spools of ribbon tossed into the mix for good measure. Her rich brown hair fell over her face as she worked, and her voice was soft and beautiful.
“On the tenth day of kinkmas, my three loves gave to me. Ten feather tickles, nine extra spankings, eight candles dripping, seven minutes in Heaven, six balls to play with…”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at her ability to make up the words as she went. She was so deep into her world of crafts and make-believe she didn’t notice me. With a dramatic flair, she launched into the next part.
“Five back-to-back orgasms.”
Heaving with a smile lighting her face, she continued. “Four tubes of lube, three French kisses, two nipple clamps…and a kiss that became a hickey.”
God, she was fucking beautiful. I cleared my throat. She whipped her head up, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.
“Alek,” she shrieked, jumping to her knees so fast that a spray of glitter pens went flying in all directions. “What the hell are you doing home?”
“Language, young lady. And did you forget, I live here?”
I raised a brow, and she bit back a retort, then quickly scrambled to cover up her projects. “I’m doing top secret Christmas stuff,” she said dramatically, putting whatever it was in her hand behind her back.
“Christmas or kinkmas?” I asked as I walked over.
Fuck, I loved it when she was on her knees. She managed to take me from reflective and appreciative to hard as hell without even trying. I stopped in front of her, and her eyes zeroed in on my cock, making the damn thing jump like an excited dog when its owner finally came home.
She rose, breaking the moment. I stepped closer, my fingers lightly tracing the curve of her jaw before settling on her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath my palm.
“What are you hiding?” I asked, my voice low, as if sharing a secret between us.
She bit her lip, eyes flicking to the piece of paper she released. We both watched it drift, face down, onto the floor. I caught the almost imperceptible hesitation in her gaze, the way she made sure nothing slipped out too soon.
“Not telling you. Now get out. You’re going to ruin the surprise.”
I smiled, my thumb brushing lightly over her cheekbone. “Surprise, huh?”
Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Alek, I’m serious. You can’t be here right now. Go away, shoo.” She swatted at me playfully, her hand landing on my chest as if to push me away, but I felt no resistance, only the warmth of her skin seeping through my shirt.
In that moment, all I saw was her. Her laughter, her light, her stubborn determination to keep me guessing. The decorations, the fuss, the holiday—all that faded into the background.
“I say different,” I growled, my voice low and rough as I reached out and grabbed her wrists.
She went instantly slack in my hands, her head dipping forward like she was surrendering without a fight. Her voice wavered, soft and with warning.
“You’ll end up on the naughty list, and trust me, you do not want to be there this Christmas.”
I didn’t care about any fucking Christmas list. Leaning in, I pressed my mouth to the hollow of her neck, nuzzling her skin like it was my lifeline. The heat of her pulse beneath my lips was intoxicating—slow, steady, and utterly mesmerizing.
I traced tiny, deliberate kisses along the curve, savoring her.
That familiar heady scent of honeysuckle, with a surprisingly new hint of cinnamon, hit.
Her breath hitched with each and every strategic placement of my lips.
I lingered a second longer. I was disgustingly obsessed with this spot, almost as much as with her tight little pussy.
“Actually, I do. It’s so damn fun being naughty with you,” I murmured against her skin, voice husky with want.
She shivered, and I held on tighter, drinking in the way she melted against me. There was no room for anything but her. My world narrowed to the taste of her neck and the rapid beat of her heart.
I released her wrists, watching as she stayed perfectly still—like the good girl she was, every inch of her attuned to my every move. Without warning, my hand slid up, fingers curling around the delicate curve of her throat.
The heat of her skin under my palm made my pulse thunder. I hauled her body hard against mine, the sharp press of muscle against the softness of her body, the slick slide of our breaths tangled in the space between us. Her eyes fluttered closed for a split second, trusting me without hesitation.
And in that instant, something feral ignited inside me.
It was raw, hungry, and unyielding. I practically growled as her throat worked to swallow.
That’s what she did to me—turned me into a beast every time.
Damn, I needed her, and it didn’t matter how many times I claimed her, she fucking inflamed me.
I lowered my mouth to hers, tugging on her lower lip and sucking it into my mouth before releasing it. “And those five back-to-back orgasms? I could give you a hand.”
“You heard that?” she whispered as her cheeks flushed and lust clouded her eyes. Bits of glitter dotted her face, catching the light.
“That and all the rest. So you want to play with my balls?”
“Pretty sure I said six balls to play with. You have only two, my King.” Her hand shot out and shoved my thighs apart. She cupped and massaged them. They were tight and ached like a motherfucker. My eyes slammed shut the minute she moved to my cock. “Hard, exactly like I like it.”
I groaned at the way her small hand rubbed me through my jeans. Tilting her head back, I lowered my lips to hers. Our tongues danced, and I was home. Everything else faded away. There was only us.
We kissed like we’d been starving for each other, as if I hadn’t fucked and kissed her senseless this morning before breakfast. As if the rest of the world could burn down around us and neither of us would care.
My hands gripped her hips, her fingers tangled in my hair, our mouths clashing with desperate rhythm until she was gasping against my lips, every breath a plea I wanted to devour. But then she pulled back.
Her lips were kiss-swollen, eyes glazed with need, but her voice was tight with restraint. “Alek, please,” she whispered, breathless. “I need to finish. Otherwise, all the hard work I’ve put into the last three months will be for nothing.”
I blinked. Frozen on the spot.
“Wait. Did you say three months?” I asked, dumbfounded. “You’ve been planning Christmas for three months?”
She huffed—offended, flustered, arms crossing her chest with a sharp flick of attitude. “Yes, parts of it anyway. And I’d planned to enjoy it. With all of you. But so far? I’m the only one acting like it’s even happening.”
Then there it was. A sharp crack in her voice. Not a meltdown, not yet, but close. I still didn’t get it. I saw the movement of her chest as the air in her lungs left her nose, the way her jaw tensed as if she was holding something back.
All I could think was—three months? I repeated the phrase. It sounded as foreign to my ears as could be.
“Wow,” she said, throwing her hands up. “Do you need me to repeat it in Russian or something?” Her eyes narrowed, the full weight of her frustration sharpening her voice. “Yes, Reaper, three. Months.”
“Kitten—”
“No,” she exclaimed, pointing to herself.
“I like to go all out. That part should not surprise you by now.” Then she gestured broadly toward the room, the floor, the soft twinkle of fairy lights along the mantle.
“Clearly, you don’t. So, what is it? Is there some kind of family rule I’m violating?
Do you only acknowledge Christmas the week of? Day of? What?”