Chapter 13 #2
He growled. “No we can’t. We have commitments…but how about I compromise with you? I’ll let you strap your blade to my ankle.”
“Excellent idea—just in case Barbie brings a friend. Two blades are better than one.”
“That’s my girl.”
I melted at that, but before I could reply, he took my blade, sheathed it and set it down. Then he reached for the dress. It had a built-in bra, which was nice. He pulled it over my head, tugged it down into place, and then stepped back to admire his work.
“You forgot something,” I said, arching a brow.
“Did I?”
“I mean, unless you wanted me to be bare for the world to potentially see. What if a gust of wind blows my skirt up? What if a rogue gentleman corners me while you’re occupied?”
“Not likely.” His mouth quirked. “At least the last part. I already told you—I’ll be with you the entire time. And you won’t be bare.”
I tilted my head. “Oh?”
That was when he pulled out the last gift he’d given me from his pocket. The red lace panties and toy.
My cheeks warmed instantly. “You want me to wear—”
“I do.” His smirk widened.
My stomach dropped, heat racing straight between my thighs. He was still wearing the ring. My breath stuttered. The ties dangled on either side, delicate, sinful. After laying it across the dresser, he fashioned a bow.
“Step into this side,” he ordered.
I did, pulse racing, my boldness giving way to a nervous flutter as he guided the panties up my legs. He lifted the soft fabric before sliding it between my legs; his fingers brushed my pussy. I rocked into his hand seeking friction.
His response was to slip the bullet into its pocket, and adjust it. The heel of his hand pressed it snug up against my clit as he settled it perfectly against me.
With a quickness he tied the other side snug at my hips. I thought he was done, but then he turned his attention to the first knot he had tied. He cinched it tighter and formed a new knot. One that wouldn’t come undone easily.
“Is that a scout’s knot?”
“It is. And I was pretty decent at it, so your little toy is all safe.”
Understanding dawned. I whimpered, a needy edge sneaking into my voice. “You’re going to edge me today, aren’t you?”
His hand lingered on my hip, a thumb stroking once across the tied ribbon. His expression was pure promise.
“I am. And how hard depends on how well you behave.” He smirked.
“Those are fighting words, my beloved.”
“I’m aware and prepared. I expect you to bring your A game.”
He stepped back with one more caress of my now covered pussy.
Then he crossed the room to the bed, sitting down with a weighty thump before leaning forward to unlace one of his boots.
I wasted no time. Rushing over, I dropped to my knees and caught his hand before he could finish and pushed it aside.
“Let me.”
His brows lifted, amused, but he didn’t argue. I worked the laces loose, tugging the leather free of his ankle with a satisfying pull. He leaned back on his hands, watching me with an expression that grew heavier, more indulgent, the longer I stayed kneeling between his legs.
By the time I stripped off the second boot, his lips had parted, breath sliding out in a quiet sigh. I lingered, slipping my palms over his socks, pressing into the arch of his foot, kneading enough to make him groan low in his throat.
“I see what you’re doing,” he teased, eyes half-lidded.
I smirked up at him, still rubbing slow circles into his sole. “The question is…is it working?”
He laughed, but the sound fractured into something rougher when I gave his heel a squeeze. That was when he sat forward, peeling off the thick knit sweater he’d thrown on earlier. Heat rolled off him in waves.
I stood and watched as he drug his undershirt over his head. I thought my plan had worked—that he’d finally given in. I practically danced before him. He shrugged it off, letting it fall. And then—his fingers went to his belt. I gulped. My heart stuttered, and my pussy clenched in anticipation.
Hell yeah! I was about to get very lucky. Monster cock, here I come.
He tugged the leather free of the buckle, slow as sin, and I couldn’t stand it. With an impatient huff, I swatted his hands aside, unbuttoned his jeans and jerked the zipper down myself.
“Impatient little thing,” he murmured, voice a caress.
“And you’re a tease,” I said, already tugging at his waistband.
He chuckled, but allowed me to peel the denim down and off, baring the length of his thick muscular thighs. But when I reached for the edge of his boxer briefs, his hand caught my wrist, firm but not rough.
“Not those.” His gaze pinned me, equal parts warning and promise.
“But why?” I pouted, jutting out my lip in an exaggerated sulk.
“Because we have somewhere to be. But you”—his voice softened, almost indulgent—“can get me my suit.”
“A suit, you say?” I perked up instantly. “Oh my—I haven’t seen you all dressed up in a while.”
That earned me another low chuckle, his head tipping back for a second. I gazed at his growing erection. Saliva pooled in my mouth as I thought about sucking him off. Calloused fingers brushed under my chin and pulled my face up. His oceanic eyes held mine.
“So you like it when I dress up, hmm?”
I nodded solemnly. “Who wouldn’t? My beloved Blade…in a suit? Dangerous.”
“Is that so? Well, it’s in the closet, go on then. Get it for me.”
He arched a brow, amusement glittering as though I’d walked myself into some unspoken trap. And maybe I had, because it wasn’t until I crossed the room to the wardrobe and stepped inside that it smacked me dead between the eyes.
How the hell had I missed it earlier?
A Santa suit. Of course. My desire to be railed had quite literally derailed me. Because duh…a part of me understood the minute he said I was going to be his Mrs. Claus, and the knowledge I had that Christopher wasn’t playing Santa this year meant he was taking his father’s place.
When he said ‘suit’ my mind immediately went to a tailored three-piece with cufflinks and silk kerchief. I mean, a Santa one made more sense, but lust had a way of muddling my brain.
And in that befuddled state, I lifted the edge of the jacket, pulling it out so he could see it. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “This one?”
With smugness and masculine satisfaction, he grinned. “Did you see another one in there? What else would I mean? I only dress up like Nik when it’s absolutely necessary. Gala’s, the opera, dinner with the parents.” Before I could lob back a clever remark, he crooked his finger. “Bring it here.”
I wrestled the hanger out of the wardrobe. The Santa suit was heavier than I expected. It wasn’t a cheap costume bought online—it was lush, velvet-lined, and trimmed to perfection. The weight of it dragged awkwardly in my arms as I staggered toward the bed.
He watched me struggle, hiding his smirk behind a neutral mask, but I caught the faint twitch of his lips. By the time I reached him, my arms ached. He finally took pity on me, plucking the hanger from my hands as though it weighed nothing.
His expression didn’t waver. “Help me.”
Heat licked up my spine. I blinked at him. “Help you? As in—”
He smoothed the suit out across the bedspread before straightening to his full height. The sheer size of him always knocked the breath out of me. “You undressed me, little love. Now you’ll do the reverse.”
A shiver of delight shot through me.
A bossy, commanding, smug Santa? I could deal with that.
I swallowed, then reached for the trousers first, the most logical place to start. But logic didn’t last long. The moment I held them open, I let myself sink to my knees.
If at first you do not succeed—try, try, again.
“Do you remember the first time I knelt for you, my beloved?” I asked, tilting my head back to catch his eyes.
His jaw flexed, the muscle ticking as his hand reached down to caress my face. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering against my cheek.
“I do. It was beautiful then, and it’s beautiful now. There’s something about you on your knees. It does things to me.”
“I can tell,” I breathed, shamelessly letting my gaze linger.
The evidence of his growing state of arousal was right there at eye level. The only thing standing in my way was the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. His cock strained against it, protesting the confinement. My pulse quickened.
Would he let me? Only one way to find out.
I dropped the trousers and shimmied closer on my knees, letting my lips skim the solid firm muscle of his calf. A kiss here, one there, light as a feather. Then another higher, at the knee.
My lips moved up right below the leg hem of his boxers. I dragged the tip of my tongue across it and used my fingers to push the material up higher, exposing more of his thigh. My mouth explored the skin, the hair on his legs tickling as I went.
On a whim, I leaned down and took a portion of his flesh into my mouth and sucked.
Hard. His sharp hiss cut through the air, followed by a low groan that vibrated all the way down to my bones.
His hand flexed once at his side, knuckles whitening as though he was fighting the urge to bury it in my hair.
I pulled back and saw lust-filled eyes gazing down.
I gripped as much of his thighs as I could and pressed my thumbs on the inner area, massaging.
He cleared his throat roughly, tilting his head toward the mantel clock.
I watched his gaze tick to the time, his jaw tightening, clearly weighing need against obligation.
The sound he made—half growl, half broken exhale—was victory enough.