Page 39 of Bought By Santa

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 hisstaff 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.”

Chapter 15

The Santa

Ilean over the desk, my fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the mahogany as Marco lays out the terms on the tablet. Every word he speaks is crucial—each clause a blade to carve out our future dominance in New York’s underbelly.

“Profit margins will skyrocket once we finalize this.” Marco’s voice is all business, a low murmur that only I am privy to. The air in the office is thick with the promise of power, and it crackles around us like static electricity.

But before I can respond, the door opens to reveal Ruby standing there. “Hi Nick,” she greets before turning to the other man in the room. “Marco.”

“That was quick.” It’s barely been a couple of hours since I texted her and asked her to come over. After fucking my hellcat on the table yesterday, she told me what Ruby’s been up to, and about the threat on Willow. “What do you think you’re doing with Willow?” I ask, cutting straight to the point as I sweep my hand through the air toward an empty chair.

Needing no further prompt, she strides into my office and takes a seat. “Whatever do you mean?” she asks, her tone innocent but her facial expression anything but.

Sighing, I steeple my fingers together. “Stop the games, Ruby. Carolina told me that you threatened her.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “I did no such thing.” She crosses one leg over the other. “I simply reminded her—”

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