Filthy Rich Santas

26. Lana

26

LANA

As Beckett owns my mouth, my body tingles with awareness, the air around us growing heated and thick with anticipation.

Tristan and Ryder are watching, their gazes caressing me almost like a physical force.

Beckett slides one hand under the heavy fall of my hair, gripping the back of my head as his other hand lands on my ass, silently encouraging me to grind against him.

I do, and when I hear someone groan—Tristan or Ryder, or maybe both of them—my nipples tighten, heat pooling between my legs as Beckett’s cock thickens under me.

But then he pulls back, his large hand still holding my head firmly in place so I can’t chase his mouth.

An embarrassingly disappointed sound escapes me. I’m not ready to stop. But almost like he can read my mind, he gives me a slow, sexy smile and puts those fears to rest before they can take hold, the deep timbre to his voice sending shivers through me.

“I’m not done with you, but we can’t go any further until I know what you’re willing to do.”

“Anything,” I burst out, letting my arousal speak for more. “More.”

He grins, a quick flash that doesn’t dim the intensity of his gaze at all.

“There will definitely be more,” he growls, his voice pure Dom. “But ‘anything’ isn’t a good enough answer. I need to know specifics. What you want to explore. What your limits are. Be good and tell me, Lana. Spell it out.”

I shudder, his insistence just driving my need higher. I’ve done plenty of research to feed my interest in kink, and I know that communication is a huge part of it. That, and consent. But somehow, just reading about those things didn’t prepare me for the real thing.

But the rush of going from feeling unwanted all day to this is overwhelming, and my mind blanks out as I struggle to find the words.

I lick my lips. “You decide. Please? I just…”

Beckett’s eyes flare with heat, his cock pulsing beneath me. “I am a Dominant to my core, little menace. I will absolutely decide—once I know your limits.”

“Thank you,” I breathe out.

His lips tilt up with the hint of a smile. “You still need to talk to me first, sweetheart. I can only make those decisions after I’m clear on what your wants and needs are. Being a Dominant means that once you give me control, I will take it. I’ll make the decisions, set the rules, and create the scene. But that power exchange can only exist within the boundaries we agree on. That’s the only way I can truly be a Dom, one who takes responsibility for respecting your limits and ensures your safety while we play.”

I nod. It sounds familiar. But I just want him to touch me again.

Still, I try to focus.

“Power exchange? Um, so you’re asking me to submit to you, right?”

His hands remain firm, but his eyes soften. “Your submission, if you choose to give it to me, is a gift. And yes, I would love to receive that gift from you. I just need you to remember that it’s a gift that you can take away at any time. I’ll take charge, but you’re the one ultimately in control here.”

“You mean my safe words.”

He smiles at me, and the hand he’s got on my ass starts a slow, leisurely rub that sends tingles straight to my core and feels a hell of a lot like praise.

“Good girl. Your safe words are a part of it, yes. But like I said, so is me understanding the kinks you’re interested in, and what your limits are. Because I will never violate those.”

I would never doubt it. Not with him. But it still does something to me to hear it, making me even more eager as he reaffirms just how safe it is to let go with him.

He stops massaging my ass and scalp and tightens both hands, holding me in place. “Tell me, which kinks would you like to explore tonight?”

My mind blanks, sparks dancing over my skin. “I… I don’t know. I mean, I’m not trying to avoid the question, I just… I can’t think. What do you like?”

His gaze sharpens. “Total control.”

My clit throbs. “Yes.”

He releases my scalp, loosely circling my throat with his hand instead. “Choking.”

I moan, leaning into the slight pressure.

He tightens his hand, not enough to restrict my breathing, but enough that I feel owned.

“I like edging needy submissives. Spanking them. Degrading them. I like obedience, and respect, and leaving my marks on what’s mine.”

My breath hitches in my throat. “Marks?” I whisper.

He holds me in place, hand around my throat, and holds my gaze as he squeezes my ass, forcing me to squirm on top of his cock.

“That’s right, little menace. I want to see you covered in my handprints and bruises and cum. I want free use of your holes, however I want, for however long I want. I want your pleasure to belong to me, to grant or deny as I see fit. And I want you on your knees tonight, worshiping my cock until I’m satisfied.”

“Yes,” I whisper, my clit throbbing. I grind down on him. “Yes, please .”

He tightens his hand like it’s a collar.

“What are you saying yes to?” he asks. “I need you to be clear.”

“All of it.” A little voice of sanity works its way through the haze of my arousal, reminding me not to bite off more than I can chew, so I add, “At least, I think so. I’m not sure if I’d like a lot of pain. I don’t think it’s a limit. Um, not a hard limit. Is that what it’s called?”

He smiles at me. “Yes.”

“Maybe a soft one? Something to try, but… but I don’t know if I’ll enjoy it or not.”

“Good girl. Thank you for telling me. Anything else?”

“No. I mean, yes. Yes to trying everything you said. Please . I just want to…”

I’m not sure what to say. Submit? Belong to him? Know what it feels like to be owned by someone who makes me feel cherished?

Beckett starts rubbing my ass again. “You want to be mine.”

“Yes.”

He frowns, his hand going still for a moment, then wipes the expression from his face as he adds, “For tonight.”

“Yes.”

“And I think we all know that you enjoy a little exhibitionism,” he says with a tiny quirk of his lips. “But just so I know I have your full consent?—”

“And because it’s hot as fuck,” Ryder murmurs, as if he already knows where Beckett is going with this.

Beckett smirks. “And because it’s hot as fuck,” he repeats in that deep voice that’s pure sex. “You’d like to do a scene with me in front of these two, isn’t that right? You want Tristan and Ryder to see you on your knees for me? To watch as I make you choke on my cock?”

A full body shudder goes through me, my panties flooding as he says it.

“I… I think you’re right.” I flush with a combination of embarrassment and excitement. “Exhibitionism is one of my kinks. So, yes. I want, um, I want Tristan and Ryder to watch us.”

Tristan groans, and Ryder mutters a low, “Fuck.”

I can hear both of them shuffling a little, the soft rustle of cloth as if one or both of them is adjusting themselves, but I can’t look away from Beckett, the intensity of his gaze pinning me in place just as firmly as his grip on me does.

“Then let’s begin,” he says with a slow, heated smile.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

“Call me ‘sir’ until the scene is over.”

I nod, another shiver going through me. “Okay.”

He raises a single eyebrow, his grip tightening me again. “Okay… sir .”

“Oh! Sorry. I mean, yes! Yes, sir. Okay, sir.”

Something heats up inside me with the use of the honorific, awakening a yearning I didn’t know I had. I’ve tried so hard to be good, to be perfect all my life, but always felt like I fell short of it. Like I was a disappointment.

But not here. Not with him.

Beckett is telling me exactly what to do, and all I have to do to be perfect—at least, perfect for him right here and now in this scene—is to do it. It’s both freeing and wonderful, and the thrill that rushes through me when he praises me for obeying him is so heady that it’s almost addicting.

“Good girl. I know you can remember to address me properly. Now show me how well you can obey me.” He releases his hold on me and moves me off his lap, setting me on my feet. “Take your clothes off.”

I’m wearing a soft sweater and yoga pants, comfortable clothes from traveling all day but not anything particularly sexy. But the split second of disappointment I feel about that is gone in an instant, burned away by the heat of Beckett’s gaze.

He’s not concerned with what I’m wearing. He told me to be good for him. To obey. To undress.

I grab the hem of my sweater, lifting it quickly.

“Slower,” Beckett says firmly, making my clit throb and my nipples pebble.

I pause, my sweater half off and goosebumps raising on my skin despite the warm temperature in our room. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Those two words again, and this time they hit me so hard I actually sway a little.

Beckett reaches out to steady me, his fingers caressing my hip and then gripping it tight, like a reminder that we both agreed he’s in charge right now.

“Go on. You know what to do.”

I do, and he sits back in his seat, powerful legs spread wide as he watches me slowly finish taking my sweater off through hooded eyes.

A rush of pleasure hits me as his gaze flares with heat and the weight of Tristan’s and Ryder’s attention burns into me from behind. My clothes may have been chosen for comfort, but the bra and panties I have beneath are sheer and lacy, giving me a boost of confidence.

I reach back, undoing the clasp on my bra.

“No,” Beckett says firmly. “Pants first. I want to see if my pretty little slut chose a matching set.”

The word hits me like a shot of adrenaline, lighting me up inside in a way I never would have expected. Maybe it’s because I know degradation is one of his kinks, something he’s getting off on. Or maybe it’s because I’m discovering it’s one of mine too, unlocking the freedom to be completely shameless in my submission.

I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my yoga pants, slowly pushing them down to just below the curve of my ass, letting him see exactly what he asked for. That the pale blue panties are sheer enough to see my trimmed bush through, just like he can see the darker pink of my areolas around my pebbled nipples through the matching bra.

“Like this, sir?” I ask breathlessly.

His eyes, darkened with lust, sweep over me. “Yes. Fuck, look at you. Lush and sexy, and all mine. Isn’t that right?”

A shiver runs through me at the growl in his tone, the praise making me glow. “Yes, sir.”

I start to push my pants the rest of the way down, but he stops me again.

“Turn around. Let me see my new toy from every angle.”

I turn, slowly, my skin flushing at the feeling of being so exposed and the illicit thrill of the way he’s objectifying me. They’ve all seen me naked before, but this feels different, somehow. Even more intimate and raw than being completely bare.

Maybe because I’m being watched right now, not touched or used or fucked. Just… watched.

Beckett’s toy, which he’s sharing—to an extent—with his friends.

“Fucking hell, you’re beautiful,” Tristan says softly once I’ve done a full circuit and am facing Beckett again.

Ryder makes a low, appreciative sound in the back of his throat, his eyes raking over me, but both of them have a certain reserve to them that makes it clear they’re only voyeurs at the moment. That this is Beckett’s scene. That I’m here for nothing more than their viewing pleasure, a literal object of desire.

A shiver goes through me, liquid heat pooling between my legs. It is degrading, and I’m not sure if I could put into words why it feels so good to be objectified by this. I just know that it does, and that probably a huge part of that is because it’s them.

“May I continue getting undressed, sir?”

“Yes.” Beckett’s gaze is locked on mine, a muscle in his jaw jumping. But his voice is steady as he gives me his next command. “Finish removing your pants.”

I do it, the way he keeps control of me with his eyes alone leaving no room for self-consciousness or awkwardness as I step out of them.

“Good girl. Now the rest.”

I take my time. Unsnapping my bra. Sliding it off. Slowly lowering my panties, then stepping out of them. The usually mundane actions feel anything but casual with Beckett’s eyes burning into me. The familiar brush of my own fingers against my skin as I remove each item sends ripples of fire through me, as if it’s his touch, not mine.

Then my breath hitches, and I have to squeeze my thighs together tightly as a wave of excitement tightens my core, making my clit throb and my pussy flood with wet heat, because it is his touch. I’m his right now, so my body belongs to him. My hands belong to him. My fingers. And using them to remove my clothes is just carrying out his will for me.

“Sir,” I pant, trembling as I stand before him.

He lets his heated gaze roam over me, leisurely and sure. Then he reaches for a throw pillow from the couch, and drops it on the floor between his spread feet.

“Kneel.”

He leans back like a king, knees wide and arms loosely spread on either side of him, my place clear.

“Yes, sir,” I breathe, falling to my knees eagerly.

His answering smile is slow and heated. “So eager. We haven’t even started, and already you’re desperate for me. You really are a hungry little slut tonight, aren’t you?” His eyes drop to my mouth. “You’re lucky I’ve got something to fill one of your empty holes.”

The filthy words make me clench, my nipples hard and my clit pulsing, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

I don’t know how he manages to turn me on like this, to leave me wanting and aching with words alone, but it’s almost overwhelming.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His eyes flick down. “Show me.”

My heart thumps, the room suddenly seeming much warmer. “Show you, sir?”

His lips quirk. “Show me what you’re going to do to earn this.” He grabs the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing it suggestively, then releases it and rests his hand on my head. “Kiss it.”

I reach for the snap on his jeans, and his fingers dig into my hair and tug sharply. “No.”

I shudder, gasping as my eyes water and I jerk my gaze up to his. “S-S-Sir?”

“I said kiss it. I didn’t say you’d earned the right to touch it or see it yet.”

I swallow. “Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, then smiles. “You’re forgiven. I know you want to be a good girl. Now put your mouth on me.”

“Yes, sir,” I pant, my cheeks heating and my skin prickling with anticipation as he uses his grip on my hair to tug me forward.

I lean in, pressing my lips against the front of his pants, then opening them wide and licking his fabric-covered cock through his jeans as I nuzzle him.

I can’t feel the double-row of his Jacob’s ladder piercings at this angle, but his cock is thick and swollen under the denim. Not fully hard yet, but getting there.

I open wider, mouthing him hungrily, then moan when I feel it grow and stiffen under my attention, a rush of accomplishment feeding into my instinct for submission.

“Fuck,” Beckett growls, holding me in place. “That’s a good start. Keep going. If you get me hard enough, I’ll let you taste it.”

I lick and nuzzle, breathing him in, the flavor of him saturating the fabric and the feel of the rough material against my lips somehow making everything seem dirtier. Filthier. Just as degrading as he promised.

And it turns me on like crazy.

By the time he finally tugs my head back and orders me to pull him out, his cock is a throbbing beast and I’m so wet my thighs slide together.

I unbutton his pants and carefully lower his zipper, my breath hitching when the head of his cock, swollen and a dark, angry red, pops free. I whimper, my mouth literally watering. But when I move toward it, he tugs my hair again.

“Who’s in charge?” he demands, his tone leaving no question as to what the right answer is.

“You are, sir,” I say, giving it to him eagerly.

Heat flares in his eyes. “Good girl. Remember that. Your hot little mouth is my hole to fuck tonight, but that only happens when I say so. You suck when I say you suck. You lick if I tell you to. You swallow when I’m ready. Do you understand?”

I nod, panting. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

The smile he gifts me is almost feral as he pushes my head down to his cock. “Then suck.”

I’m vaguely aware of the low curses and murmurs of appreciation from Tristan and Ryder behind me, and I’m moaning before Beckett’s wet cockhead even touches my lips. But all of that, even my own arousal, is nothing more than background noise.

The heady thrill of existing to be used by him is almost overwhelming, and everything else fades away, my attention completely on pleasing my sir.

Beckett groans as my lips close around him, and his fingers tighten in my hair.

“That’s it. Suck my cock, my filthy little slut. This is what you were made for. You’ve never looked more beautiful than with your lips stretched wide, your mouth being used so perfectly.”

The words are like a forbidden fruit I didn’t know I was allowed to enjoy, their flavor bursting over my tongue like the musky salt of his pre-cum does.

I love this side of him. I love that he’s finally willing to share it with me. That he’s letting me in and creating this private, heated space for the two of us to exist in.

Beckett has always been intense, but for the first time since I’ve known him, it feels like every single ounce of his strong, gruff energy is completely focused on me and me alone. And nothing has ever made me feel more wanted, or sexier, in my life.

“Good girl,” he grits out. “Fuck, you take direction well. Keep going, just like that. Use your tongue.”

His cock slides deeper into my mouth, and I moan at the salty taste of pre-cum as his piercings slide back and forth over my tongue.

He holds my head steady, using my mouth instead of letting me bob over his shaft and making it crystal clear which one of us is in control here. It’s… perfect .

I get lost in the rhythm, my own arousal rising like an unstoppable tide inside me as he pushes deeper and deeper with each thrust, forcing my lips to stretch and my cheeks to ache, saliva pooling in my mouth and dripping down my chin as I stare up at him.

Then he suddenly pulls me off his cock completely, wrapping his free hand around the base of his shaft in a tight, punishing grip and tugging my hair sharply, forcing my eyes back to his.

“You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you, little menace?”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper, my voice feeling raw.

His eyes burn into mine with a fierce intensity. “You wanted to put your mouth on me the other night. You wanted to taste me then. You wanted me to use this pretty mouth of yours.”

He means the night I sucked Tristan’s and Ryder’s cocks. When all three of them agreed to explore this with me.

But Beckett held back. He jerked himself off, but didn’t touch me. Didn’t let me taste him.

“Yes. I wanted it. I wanted your cock that night, sir. I’ve wanted it?—”

I close my mouth quickly, my cheeks flushing. I was about to say that I’ve wanted it for years, but that seems like too much.

This is just a scene, nothing more. He wants communication, but not all of my truths need to be shared.