Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 14

The Breeder

I stand there, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, the phone with the contract in my fierce grip. The audacity Nicklas has to present me with such terms—it’s not just insulting, it’s vile. My breath comes out in sharp, heated bursts, each exhale a silent scream against the injustice of it all.

“Is there a problem, Carolina?” Nicklas’ voice is infuriatingly calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.

“Problem?” The word is a hiss through my teeth. “You think trapping me with this… this breeding contract is acceptable?” I can’t keep the tremor from my voice, anger and disbelief waging war within me.

The room seems to sway as I fight to control the shaking that takes over my body. Anger surges through my veins like wildfire, consuming any semblance of composure. I want to tear the contract to shreds, to throw it back in his face, but I know what’s at stake—my sister, my future, everything I’ve worked for.

“Well, you wanted a contract, and I obliged. This is for our mutual benefit.” His dark eyes are unyielding as he stares me down. “And now you know the seriousness of my world.”

Mutual benefit? What a cruel joke. There’s no benefit here for me, only chains disguised as clauses. His world—a world of shadows and cold-hearted deals—is swallowing me whole, and the thought chokes me with dread. “Benefit?” I spit the word out. “This isn’t a partnership; it’s ownership!”

Nicklas stands unmoved, his tattooed arms folded across his chest like steel bands. For a moment, I see the flash of something in his gaze—pride, possession? It only fuels my fury. “Ownership is a strong word,” he rebukes, his tone holding an edge of warning.

It’s fucking accurate, that’s what it is. My heart pounds against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing my inner turmoil. Nicklas Knight is many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He can’t possibly believe I’ll allow him to reduce me to a broodmare. Can he?

“Then find a better one,” I challenge, my body trembling, not just with anger now, but also with a fear I refuse to acknowledge. Fear that he might be too powerful to resist, fear that he’ll break more than just my will.

“Careful, Carolina. You’re not in a position to make demands,” he warns, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through the tension-laden air.

“Neither are you to make such vile propositions,” I counter, knowing full well the danger of provoking him. But I can’t help it—the flame of defiance burns too brightly, even against the tide of my own trepidation.

The air between us crackles with the intensity of our standoff. I’m acutely aware of every breath he takes, the way his nostrils vibrate slightly with barely suppressed irritation. He’s a predator, and I’ve just bared my throat to him. But I won’t back down—not when so much is on the line.

“Sign the contract, Carolina,” he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“No,” I volley, shaking my head. “No way.”

“Carolina!”

“Nicklas,” I say, mirroring his tone. “What’s good for one is good for the other.”

“Meaning?”

Lifting my phone, I unlock it and point at the contract. “Everything I have to do, you do, too.”

He throws his head back and lets out a booming laugh. “You want to own my pleasure, Kitten? Is that it?”

Instead of letting him distract me, I shrug. “Among other things.”

Stretching, he steeples his fingers together behind his neck. “State your terms then, Carolina. Show me your claws.”

“You can only eat and drink the things you allow me to eat and drink,” I say dryly. When he doesn’t object, I grow bolder. “If I have to be available for your pleasure, you have to be available for mine. And—”

“Is that so?”

Ignoring his interruption, I carry on. “And I don’t like the exclusivity clause.” I keep my tone haughty and lift my chin.

His eyes darken until they’re almost black. “What’s your problem with that clause? Don’t tell me you want to fuck other men.” The way he says it makes it clear my answer better be no. “Because while you were on the phone with your sister, I killed the last man that watched what’s mine. And I’ll fucking kill every single person in Manhattan if that’s what it takes for you to understand you’re mine.”

He fucking did what? “What are you talking about?” I argue. My voice doesn’t falter, which is good. I don’t want him to know how much his words are affecting me.

“That got your attention, hmm, Kitten?” He smirks knowingly. “When you decided to use my toothbrush to get yourself off, I had someone watching you—”

“Oh, my God!” I cry out. I’m so goddamn stupid. I knew there was a chance Nicklas was watching, but I don’t think I ever thought anyone else might be.

“No reason to be embarrassed,” Nicklas coos. Fucking coos. “He’s dead now.”

My breath hitches as I realize that must be the pained scream I heard. Jesus, a man’s dead because of me. Because of… fuck. Why did I ever think I could go toe-to-toe with a man I saw murder another in cold blood? I need to stop antagonizing him and just get this month over with.

“Talk about overreacting,” I force myself to say. I take a deep breath, willing my body to stop shaking. At least while I’m in the same room as Nicklas. “I have no interest in anyone else. In fact, fucking somebody who isn’t you is the farthest thing on my mind.” My tone is monotone like I’m reading a script.

“So why fight the exclusivity?” he asks, his tone sharp like he doesn’t believe me.

Lord, he’s being dense. “Because the same rules aren’t laid out for you. I’m not okay with the double standard. Especially not when you’re fucking me bare,” I retort, almost screaming again.

His lips twitch into an almost smile. “So you want the same rules for me as I’ve laid out for you?”

“Yes!”

When his smile grows into a full-blown smirk I feel like I just got played, and his words prove me right. “Alright, once again, I’ll give you exactly what you ask for. Equality, Kitten. So if I don’t knock you up, you can pay me two million for the orgasms.”

Oh, fuck. He’s right, I hadn’t completely thought this through at all. I know he sees it as his words register on my face. “You manipulative fucker,” I hiss, my voice strangled. It’s true what he says, he’s giving me exactly what I’m asking for. And in the process, he’s twisting it like an evil Genie. While still somehow managing to make it so it’s no less than what I’ve demanded.

Even though I feel like crying and kicking like a petulant child, I unlock the phone in my hand. My hand shakes as I sign digitally. With each stroke of my name, I feel the walls closing in around me. It feels like a sentence, a binding that tightens around my very soul.

“All done,” I sneer, angry I got played by… well, by myself.

My signature on the page feels like defeat, a heavy weight anchoring me to this new, terrifying reality. My mind races, frantic for an escape that doesn’t exist. I’m caught in Nicklas Knight’s web, and every fiber of my being rebels against it.

Unable to help myself, I add, “Happy now?” The words are venomous, spat out as I glare at him with all the hatred I can muster. But he just watches me, dark eyes glinting with a cold satisfaction that chills me to the bone.

“Ecstatic,” Nicklas replies, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. His voice is low and smooth, like the purr of a lion that has cornered its prey. It sends shivers down my spine, but not the good kind.

I need to get out of here, away from his predatory gaze. I whirl around and stride toward the door, desperate to reclaim even a shred of control over my life. But before I can reach the sanctuary of solitude, his hand wraps around my arm, ironclad and unyielding.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The question is rhetorical; we both know I’m not going anywhere he doesn’t want me to.

“Let go of me, Nicklas,” I snarl, trying to wrench my arm free, but his grip only tightens, pulling me back until I’m flush against his solid chest. Heat radiates through the layers of our clothes, a stark contrast to the ice in his voice.

“First things first, Carolina.” His breath fans hotly against my ear, causing an involuntary shudder to travel through me. “Since I don’t plan on relying on the stork to find me, it’s time to get down to business.”

Without warning, he pushes me forward and bends me over the table, the polished wood cool beneath my palms. The forcefulness of his movements leaves me breathless, heart hammering in my chest. His body hovers over mine, a cage of muscle and power trapping me in place.

“Time to earn your money,” he growls, and the raw possessiveness in his tone terrifies and thrills me all at once.

“Is this what gets you off? Power?” I spit the words out, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. Anger swirls within me, a tempest that threatens to consume us both.

“Power,” he confirms, his voice a rough whisper that reverberates through the room. “And you, my little hellcat.” As if to punctuate his words, he grinds against me, letting me feel his hard length. The clothes between us don’t do a damn thing, and the movement makes my clit tingle and my nipples pucker.

The acknowledgment sends a jolt through me, unwanted arousal blooming deep in my belly. I hate that he affects me, hate that my body betrays me in his presence. But I refuse to let him see it, to give him the satisfaction of knowing he can elicit such a response from me.

“Go to hell,” I manage through gritted teeth, though my resolve falters with each thrust of his hips against my ass.

His laughter is dark, rich, and utterly maddening. “Oh, my sweet kitten, we’re already there. And you’re mine to burn with.”

My heart pounds in my chest as he roughly tears through the fabric of my pants, the sound of ripping material echoing through the room. I thrash against him, my mind screaming rebellion, but my body betrays me with its trembling.

“Stop!” I snarl, even as his fingers trail with maddening precision over my skin, igniting a fire that threatens to consume me from the inside out. His touch is skilled, too knowing, finding that ache within me and coaxing it to a fever pitch.

“Never,” Nicklas replies, his breath hot against my ear. Every brush, every stroke is a declaration, a branding of ownership that I can’t escape.

I hate him for this, for the way my body opens up to him, soft and willing despite the fury boiling in my veins. The pleasure mixes with my anger, a toxic cocktail that sets my senses ablaze. It’s wrong, so wrong, but my hips betray me with their involuntary tilt toward his touch.

“Damn you,” I gasp as he circles my clit, the friction building a coil of tension deep within me. My nails dig into the wood of the table, trying to anchor myself in the midst of this storm he’s unleashed.

“Say you want it,” he commands, his voice a dark whisper that sends shivers down my spine.

“Fuck off,” I breathe out, defiance and desire warring within me. But with each expert caress, my resistance crumbles, my inner walls clenching in anticipation.

“Beg me to make you come.”

“No!” My resolve falters—dissipates—as he removes his hand from my pussy. “P-please make me come,” I moan, hating myself a little more for giving in to him.

“Such a good kitten,” he murmurs, and then he pushes his fingers inside me.

The digits piston in and out of me, and the sloppy sounds coming from my pussy are so loud they drown out my moans and gasps. This man plays my body like he’s known it for years rather than days. He expertly takes me right to the precipice, but instead of denying me the pleasure building inside me, he sends me crashing over the edge.

“Nicklas!” I scream his name as my pussy contracts around his fingers. “Yes. Yes. Yeeessss!” I’m barely aware of my words as I rock my hips against his hands, wanting more of him inside me.

While I’m recovering from my orgasm, he turns me around so I’m facing him. He uses his foot to lower my pants and underwear, and I awkwardly kick them off. The clang from his belt and sound of his zipper being lowered reach my ears only a moment before he frees his long, rigid, and thick cock.

I’ve seen a lot of dicks in my desperate hunt for financial freedom, but I can’t say I’ve ever paid much attention to any of them. Some were short, some thin, and some crooked. But they were all just hard lengths. Nothing like Nicklas’ which is… I hate admitting it, but even seeing it is a turn on.

“Look at it,” he orders, like my eyes aren’t already glued to it. I watch as he lazily strokes himself. “Do you see how hard I am for you, Carolina? My cock is fucking weeping and it’s all because of you.” He runs his finger along the slit and brings it up to my lips. Before I can fully process what I’m doing, my tongue darts out and licks the salty wetness from the pad of his digit.

“Mhmm,” I moan, surprised that I don’t hate the taste at all.

I’m so lost in the moment, I don’t realize Nicklas has moved until he places his large, tattooed hands on my buttocks and lifts me up onto the table. “Wrap your legs around me,” he demands huskily.

I quickly do as he says, impatiently digging my heels into his sculpted ass. Then I lean back on my elbows and look up at him, licking my lips with anticipation as I feel the tip of his cock against my opening. I whimper as he painfully slowly inches into me, stretching me to fit his huge dick.

“Christ!” I pant, breathing through my nose at the sting following his slide into my body. “I need a second.” I’m not trying to be difficult or prolong it, I really do need a moment to adjust to the size of him.

“Almost there,” he rasps. He leans forward and moves my hair away from my face. “You’re doing so well, Carolina.”

Then he fuses our lips together in a maddening kiss. All the sensations have my toes curling and I feel like I’m about to burst with… I don’t know what. Sensation overload? If that’s even a thing.

I barely have time to brace myself as he breaks the kiss and slams the rest of the way into me. “Fuck!” he groans. “Too. Damn. Tight.”

He palms my hips in a bruising hold, and then our bodies move together in a furious rhythm, a collision of anger and lust. I claw at his back, wanting his clothes out of the way. But he just chuckles and continues to fuck me, so I move my hands under his shirt, digging my nails into his flesh, marking him as he marks me.

The table creaks beneath us, a testament to the raw force of our fucking. This isn’t gentle or loving; it’s primal, a battle for dominance that neither of us can win. We’re locked in this dance of destruction, each thrust a strike, each cry a surrender. My thoughts scatter, lost in the haze of sensation that Nicklas draws from me. There’s pain and pleasure, hate and something perilously close to ecstasy. I can feel every inch of him, claiming me, owning me in ways I never thought possible.

“Look at me,” he growls, and I do, meeting his gaze. There’s no softness there, no mercy—just the fierce triumph of possession. And yet, buried deep in those dark eyes, I see a flicker of something more, something that speaks to the raw need we both feel. “Your cunt is squeezing me so tight. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were a virgin.”

Obviously, that’s an impossibility since he’s already had me. Maybe he thinks it’s a compliment, but I refuse to thank him for noticing I’m doing my Kegel exercises. “More. I need more,” I admit through gritted teeth, the word torn from me by the relentless drive of his hips.

His movements grow erratic as we spiral toward release. The world narrows down to this moment, to the searing heat between us, and when he moves a hand between us and flicks my clit, I come apart, shattered by the intensity of my climax.

“Nicklas!” I cry. “I’m… I’m… I can’t. I—” My orgasm steals my words, making it impossible to speak.

After a few thrusts, Nicklas follows, his own release a hot rush that seals me to him in the most intimate of ways. “Fuck! Carolina!”

The aftermath clings to my skin, a sheen of sweat and the musk of rough, unbridled sex. My chest heaves, trying to reclaim the breath that Nicklas has stolen with his relentless pace, his dominating presence leaving no room for anything but submission. He half collapses on top of me, we’re both breathing hard. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, holding him tightly against me as I fight to get my breathing under control.

My brain still feels like mush as he straightens while still inside me, and I try to gather my scattered senses, but then I see his hand move—a glint of something metallic in his grasp. Nicklas’ fingers are deft as he retrieves what looks like a small plug from his pocket, and without a word, he positions it against me.

“Stay still,” he commands, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through the silence of the room. I tense, a fresh wave of defiance battling the exhaustion that threatens to claim me. But the way he looks at me, dark eyes burning with an insatiable need, confirms that this is non-negotiable, so I just roll my eyes.

I whimper as he pulls out of me. The coolness of the plug contrasts with the heat of my flesh, and a shiver runs up my spine as he pushes it inside me. “Don’t even think about taking it out,” Nicklas warns, his tone brooking no argument. He’s staking his claim in the most primitive of ways, ensuring his seed remains where he believes it belongs.

I bite back a retort, knowing any words now would be as useless as they are unnecessary. This man, this force of nature, doesn’t just break wills—he forges them anew, in the fires of his own desires. The plug is a weight within me, a foreign object dictating my body’s rhythm. Every movement reminds me of its presence, of him, and of the undeniable truth that I am inexorably tied to Nicklas Knight.

His fingers trail lazily over the curve of my hip, a possessive touch that speaks of promises and threats all wrapped into one. The room is silent save for our breathing. “Remember who you belong to,” he rasps, leaning close enough for his breath to caress the skin on my neck.

I don’t respond, but my body betrays me with a tremor that speaks volumes. I hate how much I want him, even now, even after everything.

As Nicklas steps back, straightening his suit with an air of nonchalance that belies the intensity of moments before, I’m left with the echo of his touch, the fullness inside me, and the irrefutable knowledge that there’s no turning back from the precipice upon which we stand.

His hand finds the plug, adding some pressure to it. “This should help give my swimmers the best chance,” he says simply, satisfaction lacing his voice like a vise around my heart.

“When can I take it out?” I ask as I sit up on the table. I know he just said I shouldn’t take it out, but surely he doesn’t mean I have to wear it forever.

“You can’t,” he growls. “I’m the only one allowed to remove it.”

Although I should rage, should scream at the walls and at him for the way he keeps taking it further, I do nothing. Because beneath the anger, beneath the fear, there’s a thread of dark anticipation—a yearning for the tempest he brings, a craving for the chaos that is Nicklas Knight.

He keeps his hand on the bottom of the plug, as though he’s making sure I’m not going to try to push it out. I mean, seriously?! If I wanted to do that I sure as hell wouldn’t try while he’s watching.

Nicklas finally lets go, taking my hand and helps me off the table. When I bend to reach for my discarded clothes, he slaps my ass so hard I let out a yelp. “What the hell?”

Chuckling, he lifts me up, my legs automatically winding around his waist. “You don’t need clothes right now,” he growls, bending so he can lick the length of my neck.

While he carries me into the bedroom, I notice a few people peeking around walls and through doors, like they’re trying to figure out if it’s safe to come out. Shit, I never thought about his staff when he spread me out on the table, but considering what happened to the last person who saw me in the throes of passion, maybe I should have.

I still don’t know how I feel about that. On one hand, I’m horrified Nicklas is so cavalier about other people’s lives. But on the other hand, I’m secretly flattered. Yeah, maybe he isn’t the only one who’s messed up.

As Nicklas gingerly lays me down on the bed, he follows, rolling onto his side. His hand immediately moves back between my thighs to cup the plug again. Whether to feel it’s still there, or show that he owns me, I don’t know, and I’m not sure I care.

There’s something about it that makes me feel so indescribably wanted—needed—that I revel in it.

“About your concerns,” he says, his voice filled with gravel. “You’re the only one who gets my fingers, my mouth, and my cock.”

I turn my head, staring at him as it takes me a moment to catch up. Oh, right, he’s talking about what I said before signing the contract. “Really?”

An angry rumble bursts through his lips. “Are you questioning me, Hellcat?”

Rolling my eyes, I huff. “Of course I’m questioning you. It would be stupid of me not to.”

He quickly moves to his back, pulling me on top of him so I’m straddling his hips. I moan softly as I feel his hard length between us, pressing against the plug and my clit. “You’re anything but stupid,” he says, almost sweetly. But then, as if to prove he isn’t sweet, he tears at my shirt until it rips open. “I’m yours, and only yours.”