Her Secret Santa

Chapter Twenty-One

CLARA

I can do nothing but nod while smiling, giddy and weightless as he has his driver take us back to his penthouse. Zade cradles my legs in his lap on the drive, and he carries me into the lobby of his swanky apartment building like a princess. I blush furiously, hiding my face in the collar of his suit, but he holds me like I’m precious, like I’m his . It makes me lightheaded as we take the elevator up to his penthouse.He doesn’t put me down as he unlocks the door and takes me straight to the bedroom, not releasing me for a moment until he lays me out on the bed. Our kisses are slow and lazy, almost exploratory.

It’s not like that much is different, but doing this without masks for the first time is so intense that it feels entirely new.

His hands against my body as he strips me are gentler than usual, reverent as he kisses every inch of me. I pull his clothes from him, too, tossing them aside and drinking my fill of touches and kisses across the hard muscles of his body. He looks more vulnerable without the mask, more like a man and less like a figment of my imagination. It sets my skin on fire, every touch overwhelming and enough to have me shivering beneath him.

“I want to tie you,” he whispers against the curve of my shoulder, the barest hint of teeth following his words. “Want you helpless in my hands, in my bed.”

“Please,” I sigh, arching up into the lazy touches of his fingers.

He grins at me as he pulls back, excitement obvious in the way his eyes shine. I watch impatiently as he rifles through a chest at the end of the bed, tossing neat coils of tan rope up onto the bed beside me.

When he rejoins me, his hands tremble ever so slightly, anticipation and reverence shining in the lines of his face.

It’s almost impossible to watch while he looks at me with such adoration.

“I’m going to tie your wrists to your thighs,” he tells me, his voice the usual low, commanding tone he slips into at Eternity. Something about it is softer here, more honest in his own space. “And I’m going to tie your ankles to your wrists.”

He pushes me into the position he wants, guiding me to wrap my fingers around my ankles. I blush at how exposed it leaves me, no way to hide from his gaze as he keeps my thighs spread and feasts his eyes on me. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips as he digs his fingers into the flesh of my thighs until I squirm away from the pressure. The dull pain of it only serves to make me wetter, and Zade is obviously enjoying it.

“Zade, please,” I whimper, need building under my skin. “I want you. I need you.”

“Such a good girl for me,” he croons, smug as can be.

He reaches for the rope, and I shiver when I feel the first brush of it over my skin as he unwraps the coil. I obediently follow the movement of his hands, letting him shift me where he wants. The slide of it is rougher than I expect, a bite as it snakes over my skin and pulls taut. My breath snags in my chest when he winds it expertly around my wrist, then my ankle, and I realize how well and truly stuck I am.

He’s bound me before, but not like this. I’m not going anywhere until he’s done with me.

“How do you feel, little one?” he asks me, petting over the rope and checking the tension.

“Good, Sir.” I’m surprised by how wrecked my voice sounds, the tremble that wraps around my words as I test the bonds. “I like it.”

He grins wickedly up at me before moving on to the other side, copying the tie on my other leg. By the time he’s finished, my breathing is shallow and fast, arousal burning wildly in my gut. He’s hardly even touched me, and I’m already so wet I’m dripping. His hands travel over the rope as he pushes my thighs farther apart, and I shiver in anticipation.

When he dips his head between my thighs, I can’t help but sigh, sinking into the pleasure. It takes him no time to build me up to orgasm, his tongue wicked and hot between my legs. My whole body is strung tight, the rub of the rope around my wrists making my mind go blank. All I can focus on is the heat of his tongue, the blunt pressure of his nails biting into my skin, the pleased noises he makes when my legs shake around his head.

I pay no attention to how many times I cum on his tongue, floating on bliss and the praises he whispers into my skin.

By the time he finally slides his cock into me, I can hardly even think. My entire world is pleasure and sensation and Zade , and I cling to him as he slowly starts up a rhythm that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

“There’s my good girl,” he praises before catching my lips in a filthy kiss. “Show me how good I make you feel, baby.”

The grit of his voice is enough to send me over the edge, my back arching like a bow as I scream out his name.

He laughs breathlessly as I cum on his cock, his teeth sinking into my shoulder when he follows me over the edge. His hips stutter and then grind forward, so deep that I swear I can feel him in my stomach, and I sob out my pleasure beneath him.

“Pretty fucking girl, so good, mine ,” he snarls into the side of my throat.

It takes a long time for both of us to come down, and I’m still floating in the haze of subspace as he unties me and collapses into bed beside me, gathering me up in his arms. We fall asleep together, naked atop the blankets in each other’s arms, both of us exhausted and happy.

I wake up still in his arms, my head pillowed against his chest and his hands in my hair. My heart aches with joy as those dark eyes open and he smiles down at me. I’ve never woken up in someone’s arms, never gotten good morning kisses and gentle scratches down my spine. I think it might be the most instantly addicting thing in the world.

Getting to have a morning like this for the first time on Christmas Eve is the closest thing to a Christmas miracle that I can even imagine.

We spend it curled up together and sharing sleepy kisses, then Zade heats some breakfast for us to eat in bed before we get ready for the day. It’s our last day of work at the mall, the finale of Santa and his elf. Zade tells me about how it started out as nothing more than a PR plot to clean up his image, and how he didn’t take it seriously to begin with. As frustrating as it was to work with him in the beginning, it’s sweet to hear the story of how things changed from his perspective as his driver takes us toward the mall.

“It’s good that you decided to keep it a secret until after Christmas,” I say as we climb out of the car and head toward the entrance to the mall. “The kids would never have been able to enjoy themselves if there was a bunch of press covering it.”

“It would have been a press nightmare,” he says with a chuckle, opening the door from the parking garage.

I don’t have a chance to breathe before cameras are flashing and a roar of voices greet us. I stumble back, eyes blowing wide in instinctual terror as the click of camera shutters and shouted questions overwhelming me instantly.

“Mr. Hawthorne, how long have you been playing Santa?” one voice shouts.

“Zaiden, is it true that you insisted on playing Santa in order to develop a relationship with the head elf?” another chimes in.

“How long have you and Clara Sanders been dating?”

“Did Ms. Sanders use sexual favors to get her position at Hawthorne Enterprises?”

“Do you have any comments on the allegations of you misusing company funds to further your relationship?”

“Are the rumors of you having inappropriate relationships with other employees true?”

Zade immediately shoves himself between me and the rapidly encroaching press, reaching for me in a protective gesture, but I stumble away from him, absolutely horrified. How could he let something like this happen? He promised that he wouldn’t let the media hurt me. He told me not to worry about them.

But the media is part of his life, so what was he expecting when he wanted a serious relationship with me? Was he expecting to just keep me a secret? At his side, but never in the public eye? Is he ashamed of me? He’s not even saying anything to argue the wild accusation against us, his face set in stony anger as he ignores the flashing cameras and shouted questions.

I stand and wait, hoping he’ll speak up. Hoping he’ll turn and bring me forward, stand up for me. Speak the truth. But instead, through the haze of shouts and flashing lights, I hear the question that breaks all my resolve.

“Zaiden, how do you feel about allowing a gold digging elf to tempt you into a controversial relationship?”

And I shatter. It feels like I’m alone on an island with millions of eyes on me, all screaming that I’m not worthy, that they can see every little flaw… and maybe they’re right.

I turn tail and run, dashing back into the parking garage with my heart hammering and my lungs tight. Panic and humiliation course through my veins, and I ignore Zade’s calls behind me.

I need to get out of here, away from all of this. I need clear air and quiet and a moment to fucking think .

I burst out of the parking garage and stumble my way through the packed sidewalks, frantically hailing a cab. As soon as one pulls up in front of me, I tumble into the backseat, gasping out Allie’s address and pleading with the driver to get me there fast.

Agonized sobs tear out of me, brutal and impossible to hold back. It feels like my entire body is tearing in two, the part of my heart that was so soft and trusting this morning calcifying and crumbling to dust in the course of a second. I can’t believe that he’d be so careless about all of this, that he’d promise to keep me out of the spotlight just to do nothing when I’m thrust into it. The lights and sparkling snow we pass feel like they’re mocking me, a bitter reminder of my dreams and wishes, circling down the drain along with my dignity.

So much for a Christmas fucking miracle.