Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 24

The Breeder

I blink open my eyes to the muted sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, a soft glow that tells me I’ve slept longer than usual. The silken sheets whisper against my skin as I sit up. Nick’s side of the bed is cold, sadly. One of these days, I’d like to wake up in his arms instead of just falling asleep in them.

A note rests on the pillow beside me, its white color all wrong against the deep crimson of the bedspread.

Come find me.

The words are scrawled in his bold, assertive handwriting, and something flutters low in my belly. It’s not just the command that stirs me; it’s the silent promise that lingers between the lines. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I reach for the robe draped across the nearby chair. I slip it on, tying it tight around my waist.

The hallway outside the bedroom is transformed, no longer just a passage but a statement. Rose petals—a trail of them—scatter across the hardwood in vibrant reds and blacks, leading me forward like a path in a dark fairy tale. My heart races with every step I take, the petals a sensual reminder of the man who waits for me, the man who demands my presence with nothing more than a note.

“Nick?” My voice comes out breathy, anticipation tugging at my lips as I call out for him, unsure of where this floral breadcrumb trail will lead. Each petal underfoot is a testament to the opulence he’s surrounded by, to the world he’s brought me into—one where desire and power intertwine.

I follow the roses, holding my breath as I near the doorway at the end of the hall. I know the room well even though I’ve only been there once. It’s the room with the marital bed. Every part of me yearns for what awaits, for the touch of the man who has awakened desires within me I never knew existed.

Eagerly, I step inside, and without Nick to distract me, I take my time really surveying the room. The swing is pulled into a corner, chains still dangle from the ceiling. Despite the many toys and instruments, the bed remains the focal point of the room. The walls are as black as the sheets on the bed, making everything look grander and darker. I love it.

“Kitten,” I hear his voice before I see him, deep and commanding, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m glad you found my note.”

Spinning around, I find him. His dark eyes alight with a possessive fire that makes my nipples pebble and my clit throb with want. Nick doesn’t need to speak; his gaze alone beckons me closer, and I’m helpless but to obey.

“Today, I lead,” Nick commands, his voice a caress against my earlobe as he leans closer. He steps around me, his presence predatory, and in his hand is a sleek vibrator, its black surface adorned with a single white snowflake. A shiver of anticipation laces through me, and I nod, silently giving myself over to him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his approval sending warmth straight to my core. With deft fingers, he parts the silk of my robe, exposing me to his hungry gaze. The cold metal of the vibrator trails down my belly, all the way down to my core. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” I murmur, shuddering as he pushes the edge between my pussy lips. It’s not a lie, I’m so turned on just from his voice that I can feel it. “So wet.”

The sensation is startling, a delicious invasion that makes me gasp. Nick switches it on, and the vibration starts slowly, a tantalizing hum that sets my nerves alight. “Feel that?” he asks, his eyes locked onto mine. “That’s just the beginning.”

Tremors dance through me, and I’m unable to hold back my wanton moans. “J-just the beginning?” I don’t even have the imagination to try to guess what he has in store for me. Each vibration creates a rhythm that matches my quickening pulse. My body responds instinctively, clenching around the toy. I moan again, lost in the swirl of sensations.

“You’re so beautifully responsive,” he praises, and I can hear the raw need in his voice.

My senses are ablaze, every touch amplified to an exquisite degree. I’m floating, adrift in a sea of pleasure that Nick orchestrates with masterful control. “Nick… please,” I beg, the words tumbling from my lips as my body arches toward him, seeking more, seeking release.

His hands roam over me, stoking the fire within. “We have all day, and I intend to savor every moment.”

He flicks the remote, and the vibrator surges to a higher setting, drawing a strangled cry from deep in my throat. I’m teetering on the edge, desperate for the fall, when he suddenly withdraws the vibrator, leaving me empty and aching.

“Look at you,” he breathes, admiration lacing his tone. He takes my hand, pulling me toward the bed. And just as I think he’s about to give me what I want, his tone changes. “But let’s have breakfast first.”

“B-breakfast?” I ask incredulously. My mind couldn’t be further from food, and as my gaze drops to the crotch of his suit pants, the huge bulge makes it clear I’m not the only one affected.

But when he points at the middle of the bed and says, “Sit.” I still follow his orders, scooting back so I can lean against the end.

Nick retrieves a plate from the bedside table and places it before me, between my spread legs. It’s filled with berries, cream-covered French toast, and croissants—all my favorites—and my stomach growls. But as I reach for a berry, he catches my wrist, his fingers firm and warm.

“Allow me.” He brings the berry to my lips, and I part them, taking it from him. The sweetness bursts on my tongue, an overtone to the savory tang of desire that never quite leaves when I’m near him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his eyes locked with mine. Each mouthful he feeds me is a caress, a promise of what’s to come. And then his fingers swipe a dollop of cream from the plate, tracing it along my collarbone, down the valley between my breasts, making me shiver.

My lips part as he leans forward, licking the cream off my skin. His tongue is hot, his lips soft, and the scruff on his cheeks, the delicious bite making everything more intense. I arch into him, craving more contact. A buzz hums inside me, and I realize he’s got the remote control for the vibrator in his other hand.

“Breakfast first, Kitten.” He goes back to feeding me, but now, each bite is interspersed with a flick of the remote, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. I squirm, bite back moans, clench around the Christmas-themed toy that fills me so completely.

“Nick, please,” I gasp when I can’t take it anymore, the pressure building, coiling tight in my belly.

“Are you done eating?” A smirk plays at the edges of his mouth when I nod eagerly. “Come for me,” he orders, and the vibrator surges to life again. My climax washes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me shaking and breathless.

After a moment to collect myself, I notice Nicklas has not touched his own food. Instead, he brushes aside the plates. With a predatory grin, he grabs my feet and pulls me down so I’m lying on my back in the middle of the bed.

“My turn to eat,” he declares, his eyes alight with mischief and something darker, more possessive. He reaches for the syrup, squirting some onto my breasts and into my belly button. Then he drapes my legs over his shoulders, and I watch, fascinated and on fire, as he dips French toast into the sticky sugar on my body.

Each swipe of his fingers is frustratingly light, teasing. He doesn’t actually touch any of my erogenous zones, it’s just… hmm, it’s hard to explain. It’s as though he makes the air move enough to feel like the ghost of a touch, without the pleasure of it actually happening.

Fucking tease.

“Nick!” I whine, bucking beneath him, eager for more.

“Yes?” he replies once he’s sated in one way, though clearly hungry in another.

“Get on with it,” I snap. “I want your cock inside me. Stop being a tease.”

Chuckling, he places a kiss on each of my inner thighs before getting up from the bed, retrieving something from the back of the room. “I want to try something new today,” he says as he returns with coils of midnight colored rope.

“You want to tie me up?” I ask, my voice breathy. “Like… like…”

“Do you know what Shibari is?” he asks.

The word dances through my mind; conjuring images of intricate and artistic bondage that I’ve only seen online. “Yes,” I gasp, immediately intrigued.

That’s all the permission he needs. “Kneel for me,” he rasps, slapping the middle of the bed with his free hand. “Right here.”

I get on my knees, eager to follow his every command. “Is this fine?” I ask, unsure if I should do something with my arms or my… my thoughts are cut off as the vibrator inside me buzzes to life again, making me mewl in pleasure.

“Perfect,” he growls, crawling onto the bed.

The midnight blue ropes glide over my skin, cool and smooth, as he expertly loops them around my wrists. Each movement is deliberate, almost methodical, as he pulls the rope tight, binding me securely but not painfully. I can feel the strength in his hands, the way he controls the tension, ensuring that the knots are firm but not constricting.

I watch him in silence, my breath catching as he winds the ropes around my torso, creating a pattern that crisscrosses over my chest. The pressure is gentle, but it’s enough to make me feel contained, held in place by his will. His touch is confident, every knot precise, every pull of the rope deliberate, as if he’s weaving his control around me with each pass.

Running my fingers over the rope, I admire his work. “Let your hands fall to your side,” he rasps as he moves behind me.

Again, I do as he says, feeling more than seeing him tying my wrists to my ankles, forcing me to arch my back at an almost unnatural angle. It feels weird, and I almost lose my balance a few times, but he’s quick to steady me.

My heartbeat quickens as he ties the final knot, securing the intricate web he’s created. The ropes dig slightly into my skin, a constant reminder of their presence, of his presence, of how he’s taken complete control. I’m aware of every sensation—the texture of the ropes, the way they press against me, the way my body responds to the restraints.

I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the feeling, trusting him completely. In this moment, I am his, bound and vulnerable, but there’s a strange comfort in it, a sense of safety in the way he’s tied me, in the way he looks at me—like he’s claimed me, but with care, with intention.

“Trust me,” he whispers, moving around to my front. “I’d never let anything happen to you.” His lips find mine, and he delves his tongue into my mouth, stroking mine.

Just as quickly as the kiss started, he ends it, leaving me panting. A single string of saliva hangs between us, and I look at it, watching it snap as he turns away and gets off the bed. “I do,” I say, finally finding my words.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, stepping back to admire his work. In his gaze, I see more than lust—I see adoration, reverence.

Much to my dismay, Nick’s still dressed. “Why aren’t you naked yet?” I pout.

“Because I’m not ready to fuck you yet,” he answers simply. “The last time we were in here, I hurt you. And I’m so fucking sorry—”

“It’s okay,” I say. It’s ironic that I now am all too eager to reassure him of what I that day refused to say.

“No, it’s most certainly not okay,” he growls. “But if you trust me, I want to build your tolerance,” he explains, brushing my hair away from my shoulders.

“I trust you. You know I do.”

He steps away, only to return with a small box and a flogger—the tails made of soft suede. Then he brushes the strands over my ribs, down my stomach, trailing the tease of pain and pleasure. His other hand finds the remote, and suddenly the vibrator buzzes to life again, a background rhythm to the new sensation.

“Nick!” My hips jerk reflexively, seeking more contact, more of everything he’s offering.

The flogger comes down with a gentle thwap against my thigh, a test, a question. Do I like this? My gasp is answer enough. Again, he strikes, a bit harder, on my other thigh, and I moan loudly.

“Good, Kitten,” he croons. “Let’s find your limits.”

Each strike builds upon the last, a crescendo of stinging kisses that paint my skin in shades of pink and red. The vibrator continues its relentless hum, a counterpoint to the sharp slaps of suede. It’s a dance of sensations, and I’m lost in the rhythm, adrift in a sea where only pleasure and pain exist.

“Look at you, so responsive, so eager,” Nick murmurs, pausing in his ministrations. He traces the marks he’s left, a proprietary glide of fingertips that sets my nerves alight. “This is trust, Carolina. This is us.”

I can’t form words, can only nod, my eyes heavy with lust and something deeper—something like devotion.

“More,” I whisper, a plea, a demand.

“More it is,” he agrees, and there’s a shift in his demeanor, a darkening of his gaze that tells me we’re crossing into new territory.

Switching tactics, he sets aside the flogger and picks the small box up. There’s a clink of metal, and I glimpse the glint of nipple clamps just before he attaches them, a jolt of pain that zips straight to my core. I cry out, not in protest but in revelation—the sweet spot between hurt and heaven.

“Shhh, you can take it,” he assures me, adjusting the tension until I’m squirming, teetering on the edge of something monumental.

“Please,” I beg, not sure what I’m asking for—to stop or to never stop. Both—neither.

His tattooed hands run up my thighs, making me squirm while fighting not to fall. Although I love being tied up like this, it’s hard work not to lose my balance. Especially with all the sensations he’s drawing up in me simultaneously. The sting from the nipple clamps, the euphoria from the vibrator buzzing deep in my pussy, and then the… whatever the ropes make me feel. I’m so overstimulated I can barely tell one sensation from the other.

I’m so lost in my thoughts I almost miss Nick undressing, which would be a waste. Like he has all the time in the world, his tattooed hands undo his cufflinks, pocketing them. Then he unbuttons each button on his dark blue shirt before shrugging it off.

Next, he unbuckles his belt, and I suck in a breath as the air swooshes when he pulls it from the loops. It’s such a small sound, yet it makes my core clench. So does the sound of his zipper being lowered, and the ruffle of his pants falling to the floor. He’s not wearing his briefs, so his cock is free and erect, jutting out from his body and pointing straight at me.

“Like what you see?” he rasps, fisting himself as he strokes from base to top.

“Y-yes,” I moan.

“Mhmm, so do I, Hellcat. So do I,” he groans, squeezing his cock harder. “You have no idea how beautiful you are right now.”

His words wash over me, making me preen. All I want to do is obey him, make him look at me the way he is right now, like I’m the only other person in the universe. “Nick,” I cry, overwhelmed. “I-I… I lo—” I never get to finish confessing my love to him.

“Now’s not the time, Hellcat,” he rasps, slowly inching closer.