Chapter 16
Kinsley
Later that evening as the sun was setting, he led me out of the tent with one hand at the small of my back, steady and warm. He’d removed his padding and beard and resembled my gentle giant once more.
Excitement coursed through me, and a hunger like never before for him, heated me from the inside out. I couldn’t wait to get him home and fuck him until we were both so exhausted we collapsed.
By the time we reached the car, I was practically vibrating with need.
I could hardly contain myself, because in my head I was already shoving him against the door and ripping his Santa pants down.
When he opened the car door, I noticed a brightly wrapped gift box. It was sitting on the passenger seat.
I gasped. “Another present? How? When? Ivan…”
“Get your sexy ass in the car, Mrs. Claus and we can open it.” His tone was smug, like he already knew I’d love it.
I did as he ordered and climbed in. The door shut with a soft thump, and for a moment, it was just me and the echo of my own heartbeat. My limbs still trembled. Every nerve ending hummed in tune with him.
It was stupid, really, how easily he could undo me. Even crazier was how quickly I went from brat to puddle under his gaze. He rounded the front of the car, slow and easy, every step confident. The headlights from another car lit him up in all his glory, and my heart twisted.
All big and broad and battle-scarred, with that smug little smirk he wore when he knew he’d had me in the palm of his hand. And the worst part? He hadn’t even touched me. I bit my lip and let my head roll back against the seat, eyes still glued to him.
God, he was beautiful. And mine. And yet…my greedy little self wanted more. All ten thick, hot, throbbing inches of him. He slid into the driver’s seat, glanced at me once, and smirked again—that crooked grin that did all kinds of illegal things to my insides.
“Go on.”
I tore into the paper without a second thought and then lifted the lid. A purple velvet satchel greeted me. But from the shape, I knew it was a deck of cards. I hugged them still wrapped to my chest and squealed.
“Oh my God. Game night cards? A new deck. Awe.”
“Something like that. Take them out of the wrapper.”
Gently, I pulled on the tie at the top and slipped it open. I gasped, the air whooshing out of my chest. They were tarot cards of some type, but definitely not the kind you pulled at some witchy shop in Camden.
They were cold stamped giving it a shimmery 3D effect that was stunning. The backs of the cards were gilded, giving them a real luxe feel. The fronts were designed with dramatic full color renderings, each card named with something sinful.
“Did Isabella draw these designs?” I asked in fascination. My mouth was moving faster than my brain.
“You’ve got an excellent eye. How do you know her style so well? Hmmm?”
For a split second, my stomach twisted. Memories pressed in. The sketches were hers; there was no doubt in my mind. I forced my lips into a small, casual smile, brushing the tension away before it could stick.
“Girls just…know,” I said lightly, with a shrug. “Besides, it’s totally her style.”
Unable to help myself, I flipped through them, my grin getting wider with every card. “How do they work?”
“Easy, when you’ve been a good girl for me or my brothers, we’ll let you pick a card. Whatever one you pick is your destiny or fate for the evening.”
“Ohhh, I like this,” I said, my mind already racing in a thousand directions, each one filthier than the last. I shimmied my shoulders, doing a little dance. The ideas playing like a loop in my head were too good to sit still for.
Then I leaned in, lowering my voice with mock conspiracy. “Although, if I’m being honest…I’m pretty sure I could figure out a way to stack the deck in my favor every time.”
His brows shot up, the corner of his mouth twitching into something halfway between amused and dangerous. “Careful,” he warned. “That little brat tongue of yours just guaranteed you’ll never get away with it. I’ll be sure to warn my brothers of your treacherous thoughts.”
“Killjoy. Doesn’t matter, I’m going to be the bestest girl ever. The Camera,” I read aloud, waving it at him. “Ohhh, you want to make a home movie? So bold. It’s a good thing I trust you all huh?”
His response was to chuckle. “Silly girl. If you pay close enough attention to the cards, you’ll see they all coincide with your recent checklist of kink acceptable activities.”
Once more, I let out a loud squeal because he was right. There wasn’t a single one I thumbed through that had me worried.
The next card had me raising my brows high. “The Whipping Bench.” I fanned myself dramatically. The third made me fake swoon against the seat. “The Headliner. Does this mean…?”
His grin stretched. “Yes, you little slut. If you pull that card then you’re the star of the night at the club. You can best believe Bash has already asked for a front row seat. But keep going.”
I did, laughing, biting my lip until my body was humming for a whole new reason. This deck spoke to every dark, naughty little corner of me.
“I can’t believe you,” I whispered, my throat tight and eyes prickling. “My Kings really do love me.”
Before I could start crying like the sap I was, Ivan reached over and tweaked my nose. “Don’t thank me. Thank the Torturer. He was the one who suggested it.”
That undid me. Sebastian. My Bashy-boy. The thought of him plotting this out made me melt in a whole new way. My chest swelled, so full of love for these maddening, impossible men I didn’t know what to do with it.
He plucked the cards from my hands, gave them a casual shuffle, and smirked. “Ready for fate to decide your evening? Cut the deck.”
I did, eager, my fingers trembling as I slid the halves back together. He once more gave them a good shuffle.
“Now pick one.”
“Just one?” I pouted. “That’s cruel.”
“Greedy girl.” His eyes gleamed.
I pulled a single card, my heart thundering, but before I could flip it, he snatched it away. With a peek, his face lit up like Christmas morning.
A feral grin split his face. His eyes went dark, hungry. “Oh, you’re in so much trouble.”
My mouth dropped. “What—what does it say?”
Instead of answering, he pulled out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen. A quick text sent off with a devil’s little hum under his breath.
“Who are you texting?” I demanded, wriggling in my seat.
“You’ll have to trust me.”
My jaw fell open. “Blade—”
Steel flashed so fast it was almost impossible for my brain to catch up. My breath hitched as he drew his blade, the point gleaming under the car’s dome light. In one smooth flick, he cut a long strip from my dress. I gasped, clutching at the fabric.
“Ivan Matthew!”
He was teeming with energy, dominant and dangerous in a way I’d only seen once before. It made my belly flip, my thighs press tight. His jaw twitched, and he yanked me by my neck. That was normally a Reaper move, so it took me by total surprise.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, the sound low and dark enough to curl straight down my spine.
Holy shit.
If he thought my commitment to the holidays should be studied, he’d be blown away if he knew the way my body just reacted to the tone of his voice.
That would be worth studying. My pulse thudded against his palm as he squeezed a little tighter.
The next thing I knew, he was tying the strip over my eyes, nice and tight, plunging me into darkness.
I whimpered, nerves and need tangling together. “Ivan…”
A rough hand slid into my hair, fisting it just enough to tilt my head back.
His mouth followed, hot and unrelenting against my throat.
He kissed down my neck, teeth grazing before he latched on and took a mouthful of flesh between his teeth.
The mark he left burned, the perfect sting blooming into heat.
“Don’t push me, little girl,” he growled against my skin, his breath searing. “Your destiny’s already been signed. The Blades in charge now, and I want you quiet.”
I whimpered again, shaking so hard I could feel the tremor in my knees. My fingers curled uselessly in the air. I was now effectively blind, trembling, and so fucking desperate.
The turn of the engine sounded.
“Sir, where are we going?” I asked, my voice shaky.
Instead of answering, he tapped the ring. My toy roared to life, vibrating so hard it stole the air from my lungs. Then his hand was between my legs, mashing the toy against my clit.
Within seconds, I shattered, a scream ripping from my throat, his name tumbling off my lips. My pussy clenched against the toy and his palm. There was no stopping it.
“Did you just fucking come?” He seethed, yanking his hand away.
“Yes, Sir,” I cried, a soft sob ripping from my throat.
“Tsk, tsk. Such a rule breaker. I thought you were going to be a good girl for me? You did so good all day controlling your body. Coming without permission has ramifications. You know what this means?”
“Oh, god. No, please.” I groaned.
He was the worst when it came to coming without permission. Whereas Alek and Nik were more lenient, maybe a spanking and delayed gratification for the next one, Ivan got off on making me come so much that I wouldn’t be able to walk.
“Not going to answer me proper huh? Now who is being the bold one. Very well. Mind repeating your safeword for me?”
“Why?” I panted, trying to catch my breath.
“I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
Diabolical. That was the only way to describe this man.
As I groaned and mumbled my safeword, he laughed. He reached over and I jolted, feeling the heat of him. All my senses were on alert as he reclined the seat back.
“Lay back for me.”
Throughout the entire drive to our destination, he tormented me as he expertly controlled my body, making me come and come. The world spun as the darkness was my new companion, and I had no idea where fate was dragging me.
Truth was, I lived for these moments—loved nothing more than unleashing my beast. It was fun knowing that I had the power to provoke the side of him where he withheld nothing. He gave me it all.
I finally understood what all the traumatized women I’d talked to over the years meant when they said, all it takes is the right one. Because every sharp edge and calculated stroke of the Blade’s cruelty was wrapped in velvet control.
And I took it, greedy and writhing, because let’s be honest—this was never a game I didn’t want to play. What I hadn’t expected was the intensity. The sheer precision of it.
My legs were trembling, and my body shuddered in aftershocks. I lost track of how many times I’d come during our drive. I only knew that if he removed my blindfold, my mascara would be halfway down my cheeks.
And to think—I’d given Bash the nickname of the Torturer. Clearly, I’d underestimated the Blade.
The soft rumble of the engine cut through my thoughts, leaving only the ticking sound of the cooling metal. The silence hit harder than I expected. After the hum of the tires and the low vibration of the car for so long, it felt strange—almost too quiet.
My skin prickled beneath the blindfold, the thin strip of fabric still warm where it rested against my temples. A whimper escaped my throat as I tried and failed quite epically to uncurl myself from my reclined position. My entire body had turned to Jello.
You could say that I had a newfound respect for my not so gentle giant.
“Don’t move,” he hissed.
“Yes, Sir,” I answered, laying back.
My brain had been too befuddled to think about the card I pulled. But now that we were sitting at whatever destination he’d taken me to—it consumed me. So lost in the thought, I failed to even realize he’d gotten out of the car.
It was only when my door opened, and cold air rushed in that I returned to reality. I bit my bottom lip. Then there was warmth and his steady hands reaching for me. His movements were quiet.
Aside from the initial command he’d given, he remained quiet. He lifted me easily, my head resting against his shoulder. The world swayed as he walked, his boots crunching underfoot.
I could sense the shift in terrain as he left the gravel path.
The smell of pine and damp earth hit. Somewhere nearby, water trickled—a stream maybe—and an owl hooted, low and haunting.
He still hadn’t spoken, and I didn’t dare break the spell.
The mystery hung thick between us—where were we? What was waiting in the dark ahead?
When he finally stopped, the air felt different—open, wider. A clearing? My pulse kicked harder.
He set me down. My boots brushed against packed earth and what sounded like brittle grass. I could hear his breathing behind me. It carried an intensity, and there was an energy to it, a charge that made the fine hairs on my arms lift.
Every sound felt amplified: the rustle of branches, the faint sounds of nature, even the beat of my own heart thudding in my ears. Then his hands were at the back of my neck, fingers finding the knot of the blindfold.
The fabric loosened, falling away, and the world rushed back in.
Moonlight poured through the trees, silvering everything it touched.
The clearing wasn’t large—maybe twenty feet across—but it looked almost enchanted.
Frost glittered faintly on the grass. The dark silhouettes of pines ringed us, their tops swaying in the faintest wind.
I blinked against the dimness, trying to get my bearings, but my focus went straight to him. He stood a few feet away, with an unreadable look. He held a backpack in his hand. Where he’d gotten it, I had no idea.
The night made him look different—wilder, sharper, his breath visible in soft clouds.
“Ivan?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer, not yet. But he tilted his head, like he was taking me in—every breath, every tremor, every piece of me that had no idea what came next. He slipped the backpack on and adjusted it.
A shiver ran through me, part chill, part something else entirely.
“Run,” he barked.