Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 17

The Breeder

A s soon as I nod my acquiescence, punctuating it with a needy whimper, he lies me down on the bed. “Spread your arms and legs,” he commands.

Doing as he says, I spread my limbs until my body is forming an X on the silk sheets. The saying ‘X marks the spot’ comes to mind, making me grin.

Said grin is wiped from my lips when Nicklas casually pulls a knife from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, the light reflecting on the blade as he gently lowers it until it’s touching my collarbone. My breath hitches.

“Do you trust me?” he asks solemnly.

I swallow harshly. “N-no,” I reply.

He chuckles and slides the knife down until it catches on the dress. Then, he moves it beneath, slicing the fabric as he continues the downwards movement, splitting the dress in two. I realize I’m holding my breath when he wedges the tip of the knife between the cups of my bra, yanking until that, too, falls open.

“Nicklas,” I half gasp, half moan. I barely recognize my own tone, and my thoughts are a swirl of fear and lust.

“Move your arms above your head, Kitten,” he rasps. “And put your wrists together.”

Again, I follow his demand without hesitation. As soon as my arms are where he wants them, he shuffles around the bed and leans over the bed, reaching for me. I feel more than hear it as he guides my hands into some kind of restraint. I angle my head so I can see what he’s doing.

Clearly, I didn’t notice everything about this bed, because I didn’t see the built-in restraints at the head. I experimentally test the leather by pulling, but there’s no give at all. It doesn’t hurt, though, all thanks to the soft lining on the inside.

While I’m focused on my hands, Nicklas slides chains around my ankles. They’re not as tight as the leather around my hands, but there still isn’t a lot of give.

“Look at you,” he praises, his dark gaze reflecting my expression of excitement. “You’re so beautiful like this. I could stare at you for hours.”

“Please don’t,” I murmur, really hoping he isn’t just going to watch me.

Rather than answering me, he removes his suit jacket, neatly folding it before slowly unbuttoning his shirt. As I lie there, naked and waiting, it’s maddening how much time he wastes on undressing. Don’t get me wrong, I love the view, even lick my lips as he unbuckles his belt, and I swear my pussy contracts at the swooshing sound when he pulls the leather from the loops on his pants.

“Nicklas!”

He chuckles, his tattooed hands opening his pants, and I shudder as the black trail of hair on his lower stomach comes into view, knowing exactly where that leads. The show he’s giving me is such a turn on I feel I could come from the lightest touch.

After what feels like hours, but were probably only minutes, he’s finally naked. I shamelessly drink in every ridge of his body; from his shoulders to his feet, and everything in between. It’s hard not to get stuck on his long, thick cock, and the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, circling the bed like a predator. “So willing to surrender to me.”

Surrendering to Nicklas feels natural, necessary even. My body responds to his proximity, to the dominant energy he exudes. There’s no room for fear, only a deep, aching need.

He traces a finger down my arm, and it leaves a trail of fire in its wake. He pulls out a feather tickler from the drawer and runs it over my sensitive skin, eliciting involuntary shivers. My breath hitches as he explores, learning what makes me gasp, what makes me squirm. Much to my disappointment, he stays completely away from the apex of my thighs, only grazing the surrounding areas.

“Please…” I don’t even know what I’m pleading for—his touch, his possession, his everything. All I know is that I’m teetering right on the edge. My body is slick with sweat and arousal, and I’m desperate to come.

“I told you to be patient.” With a swift movement, he spins me to my stomach, helping me regain my balance as my arms and legs twist. My restraints feel tighter, but it’s still not too uncomfortable, or even painful. “Have you ever come from pain before?” he asks, his voice husky.

“P-pain?” I stutter, my heart beating harder at his question. “I-I don’t want pain.”

His large hand runs across my exposed backside, he nudges one finger into the crevice of my ass cheeks. I tense as the tip finds my puckered opening. No, surely he doesn’t mean… I swallow, feeling embarrassed but also so, so aroused by the thought of him taking me there.

“Stop,” I beg.

“You don’t get to deny me,” he corrects me sharply. Before I can process what he’s doing, his hand disappears, and the next second, there’s a sharp crack as he slaps my ass.

“Ouch!” I cry out.

“Never.”

Slap!

“Do.”

“Nicklas!” I howl.

Slap!

“That.”

Slap!

“Again.”

I writhe, uselessly trying to avoid the unforgiving slaps as he rains them down, but it’s not happening. Tears stream down my face as he ruthlessly spanks my ass, my breath is coming in ragged, shallow bursts. He keeps going, and each time his palm connects with my skin, I jolt.

“Nicklas!” I scream, not sure I can take any more.

I hide my face in the sheets, tensing as I wait for more pain to come, but it doesn’t.

He gingerly begins to stroke the abused skin, his soothing touch both making it better and worse at the same time. Better, because I think I crave knowing he won’t hurt me again—worse, because I’m scared to relax if more pain is to come.

“W-what did I do?” I hiccup, my sobs muffled by the sheets. “W-what d-did I do w-wrong?” He bends, kissing my throbbing backside, the scruff making me whimper even more as it feels rough against the sore skin.

After releasing my wrists and ankles from the restraints, he lies down next to me as I cry. I want to curl into a ball, but I’m scared to make the wrong move. I tense as something cold and wet hits my abused ass, then his hand appears, carefully rubbing it into my skin.

“Don’t ever deny me again,” he growls, anger coating his words. “You do what I say, when I say it. Is that understood?”

Even though I’ve signed a contract that basically states just that, I balk against saying the words out loud, so I press my lips together.

“Say you understand me,” he barks, the words so different from the feather-light touch of his hand on my burning flesh.

“No!” I refuse on a hiccup. “I won’t say it. Not now. Not fucking ever.”

I wait with bated breath, telling myself to prepare for more pain, but it never comes. It’s confusing when he chuckles and pulls me flush against him, his erection nestled in the crevice of my ass. “I love when you fight me, Hellcat. But there’s a time and place. And this isn’t it.”

This isn’t a fucking game, it’s my life. I’m not defying him for his entertainment, just as I didn’t sign the contract for his pleasure. I signed to give myself and Willow a future, and I fight him when I’m unable to bow to his will. It’s all about survival for me.

“What does it matter?” I huff, surprised to find I’m gradually relaxing more and more the longer we lie here. “You take what you want, do what you want, no matter what I say or do.”

He’s quiet for so long, I don’t think he’s going to answer me. “It’s a good question,” he finally says, sounding like he’s giving some serious thought to the answer. “I don’t know why, Carolina. Only that it’s important to me.”

I don’t know what to make from his words, but I find myself looking for a hidden meaning. Maybe it’s because he’s a man who always has to take what he wants. Could that be why he wants me to give it to him freely?

“Ask me,” I croak, my voice hoarse from all the screaming.

“What?”

“Ask me for what you want,” I say, my voice steadier now.

A squeal leaves me when he moves, grabbing my hips and positioning me on top of him. I wince, leaning forward as much as possible as to spare my ass cheeks. My long, blonde hair falls in a curtain around us as I bend my neck and look down at him.

“Why do you want me to ask you for what I already own?” he rasps.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Because you want me to give it to you. But I can’t give you anything you demand, that’s still you taking. So if you don’t want that, you need to ask for it.”

When he lifts his hand, I can’t help flinching, and his eyes darken, anger pooling in their depths. “I’m not going to hurt you like that again, Carolina. Never,” he vows. “I’m so sorry.”

Refusing to say it’s okay when it’s not, I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to tremble. But it’s hard, and I don’t just mean his cock between my legs. The intensity and anger rolling off him is enough to drown me, fighting it feels like fighting the pull of a current.

He rears up, wrapping his arms around my back, resting his forehead against mine. “I mean it,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

I get the feeling he hasn’t apologized to many people in his life, and it makes me feel special to know I’m one of the few. “Okay,” I say, still mindful not to say the action was okay.

He sighs deeply, still not looking away from me. “I still want to fuck you.” His length twitches between us, punctuating the words, and my pussy answers with a flutter.

Whether my head is in the game or not, there’s no denying my body wants this. Badly. “Me too,” I sigh. Admitting that feels wrong, like I’m fucked up for wanting him after what he did to me. “But I don’t want you to hurt me again.”

Maybe it’s stupid of me to say that since it got me in trouble the last time I did, but if he hurts me again, I’ll know his apology means nothing, and that his words aren’t to be trusted. Not that I should trust him, regardless.

He stretches so his forehead is no longer level with mine, and then he freaking licks the sweat from my forehead and eyebrows. What the hell! “I’ll always want to hurt you, and I know you can take it, Hellcat. But no, I won’t let my temper get the better of me again.”

With boldness I don’t know where it comes from, I push him down so he’s lying flat on his back. Gyrating my hips, I drag my drenched slit along his thick, throbbing shaft. “I said no,” I hiss. “No more pain.”

“And I told you not to deny me,” he growls.

I open my mouth, ready to argue more, but he rears back up, capturing my lips in a scorching kiss. His tongue wrestles mine into submission as he licks at every corner of my mouth. My hands are on his shoulders, and when he cups my sore ass too hard, I hiss while instinctively digging my nails into his skin.

He growls, kissing me harder, and I moan into his mouth, the burn on my backside morphing into a level of pleasure I didn’t even know existed. It hurts, yes, very much so. But each painful throb makes my inner walls contract. We’re caught in a vicious circle, one where more pain means more pleasure, and more pleasure means more pain.

“Nick—” Another moan cuts me off.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” I agree. Then I reach for his length, wanting to put him inside me, but he stops me.

“Not on the bed.”

I lean back, blinking in confusion. “But this is the bed where we’re meant to conceive your heir,” I say, dumbfounded.

He doesn’t question how I know that, probably figures it’s from the diary. Or maybe he has read it and knows for certain. “There’s something else I want to try today,” he says.

Carefully, I climb off him, doing my best to jostle my ass as little as possible. I’ve never noticed how much you use it or move it until trying to avoid it, which is basically impossible.

Once we’re both standing, he takes my hand and leads me over to the sex swing, his eyes darken with desire as he looks between me and it. “Are you up for it?” I’m surprised he asks.

“I-I think so.”

He helps me into it, apologizing again when I hiss out a breath as I sit down on the leather strap. When I reach for the handles above me, he stops me. “No, I want you to lie back.”

My eyes widen, and I gulp, not reveling the idea of putting any trust in him or his ability to keep me from falling. “Can’t I just—”

“No!” he growls. “I want you vulnerable and spread out for me.”

With a sigh, I tighten my hold on his forearms, slowly leaning back until the second leather strap stops me. My breath comes out in quick puffs, sweat beads on my forehead, and a sliver of fear runs down my spine.

“Mhmm, Carolina,” he groans, his eyes glued to my pussy. My legs are resting on his shoulders, giving him easy access. “So fucking pretty.”

I preen under his heated gaze and words. My back arches on its own, drawing his dark eyes to my peaked nipples. “Touch me,” I beg, suddenly needing his hands on me.

When he moves, stepping closer, I dig my nails into his forearms, scared I’m going to fall down. “I’ve got you,” he assures me, and I see the truth in his dark orbs—Nicklas won’t let me fall, and if I do, he’ll either catch me or plunge with me. “Hold on tight, Hellcat. I’m going to raise you. But you’re not going anywhere. Trust me.”

I try to relax as he reaches up, pushing a button on the chain holding the swing. Even though he’s told me what’s coming, I scream in surprise when the chain tightens, pulling me up until my pussy is level with Nicklas’ hard cock.

“Are you wet?” he asks, already rubbing the tip of his dick against my drenched opening.

I’m not just wet, I’m soaked—in a place that’s far beyond turned on. I’m freaking needy; needy for him, for the pleasure he’s promising me.

As he finally pushes inside me, I cry out, the sensation so intense while I’m balanced above the ground. His hands move to my hips, grasping them firmly. Instead of thrusting, he pulls me toward him, sheathing his hardness inside me.

“Fuck!” he growls.

“Nicklas,” I moan. “Oh my God!”

The more we move, the more I relax, almost forgetting that I’m hanging up here. All I can focus on is the glorious feeling of his cock inside me, stretching. He continues to talk dirty to me, telling me how much he loves the feel of my cunt, the way I squeeze him. Each word makes me feel bolder, and… treasured.

No longer scared to fall, I let my hands fall from his arms so they dangle at my sides. His approving groan is the perfect reward. He picks up the pace, moving me faster and harder, our skin making slapping sounds every time we connect.

“Ahh, fuck. I’m not going to last much longer.” He furrows his brows like he’s trying to stop himself from coming.

I squeeze my inner muscles around him. “Come,” I demand. “Fill me with your cum. Fuck your heir into me.”

Giving up on moving me, he palms my tits as he impales me harder. Each thrust pushing me closer to the edge of oblivion. The swing moves with us, a pendulum of carnal rhythm, each sway amplifying the sensations until I’m lost in a sea of ecstasy.

“Your wish is my command,” Nicklas growls, kneading my breasts deliciously hard.

“Nicklas!” I cry out as waves of pleasure crash over me, his name a sacred incantation that binds us together.

“Mine,” he declares, his own release chasing mine, a testament to the depth of his possessiveness.

In the stillness that follows, the only sound is our labored breathing. We bask in the afterglow, skin glistening and hearts racing. Lying in the cradle of the swing, I’m held aloft not just by its sturdy straps but by the strength of what grows between us—something fierce and tender, something that might just be love.

When my body begins to feel uncomfortable, and I need to move, Nicklas lowers the swing but orders me to put my legs in the air. I do as he says, watching as he goes to get the plug. As soon as it’s back inside me, he helps me up. My legs feel like jelly, and he helps steady me. Then he retrieves his shirt and boxer briefs, handing me both to put on.

“I don’t want to risk anyone seeing what’s mine.”

While I put it on, I eye him. “I don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine either,” I clarify, pointedly staring at his naked chest. He might be wearing pants, but his upper body is just as enticing as his lower one.

He grins as he shrugs his suit jacket on. “This will have to do.”

Together, we walk back to our bedroom, and I let him guide me into the bathroom where he begins to fill the massive corner bathtub. Thanks to the multiple taps, it doesn’t take long before it’s half filled. We undress each other, and I find that I like doing that to him. It’s like opening a present.

“Get in,” he commands, his voice low and husky, the dark allure that he exudes wrapping around me like a silken shroud.

I obey without hesitation, slipping into the steaming bath. The water embraces me, warm and comforting, and I sink deeper, letting it lap at my collarbones. Nicklas watches me for a moment with those intense eyes before joining me in the tub, the water displacing around his powerful form.

He’s close now, so close that I can see the flecks of gold in his dark irises. Without a word, he takes a soft sponge and begins to wash me. His touch is gentle yet possessive, reminding me of who I belong to.

“Lean back,” Nicklas murmurs, guiding my body against his. He massages shampoo into my hair, his fingers skillful and tender. The scent of jasmine fills the air, and I close my eyes, giving myself over to the sensations—the heat of the water, the glide of his hands, the steady beat of his heart against my back.

While I let him wash my hair, I feel something inside me shift and bloom. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He rinses my hair, the water caressing my scalp in rivulets.

“You’ll learn to trust me,” he says suddenly.

“Maybe,” I allow, not mentioning that I did trust him when I let him fuck me in the swing.

“Good,” he says, satisfaction lacing his voice. “Because every part of you is mine, Carolina. To protect, to pleasure, to impregnate.”

After we’re done, and we’ve dried each other off, he asks me to wait while he goes to get something from the bedroom. While he’s gone, I do my best to shut my brain off, which is harder than it sounds. But right now, I don’t want to think. I just want to feel—to be present in the moment.

When he returns, he’s holding a small velvet box. “Will you wear this?” he asks as he opens it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.

“Nick is that—”

“There’s a party coming up, and I want you to wear this.” His gruff tone betrays the urgency he feels.

“Why?” I ask. My heart is hammering in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Because I asked nicely,” he smirks. “Do you accept the ring?”

I don’t know why I end up agreeing, but with a nod and a whispered, “Yes,” I do. My lips part as he slides the ring onto my finger where it fits perfectly—like it was made for me.