Page 46 of Bought By Santa

“You need to be patient,” he replies cryptically, bending so his breath is hot against my ear. “All in due time.” And though his words are a reprimand, they’re also a vow—one I intend to hold him to.

“Teach me patience, then,” I say, my tone teasing but my intent serious. Nicklas smirks, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

“Careful what you wish for.” His fingers trace the curve of my waist, setting my nerves alight. “You might just get it.”

His lips crash against mine with a passion that ignites a fire within me, his hands possessive as they roam my body, grabbing the soft globes of my ass and squeezing, kneading. With each movement, the plug inside me is jostled, and my sex feels like it’s on fire.

Swiftly, he removes the plug, eagerly replacing it with two fingers.

“Nicklas,” I gasp, my breaths coming in short bursts as he deepens his exploration, his mastery over my body absolute. “Oh, God!”

“You’ve no idea how much I want you,” he growls, his voice laced with a dark promise.

Then he scoops me up, effortlessly carrying me from the room cluttered with secrets and whispers of the past, into a chamber that promises decadence and surrender.

This bedroom is alien compared to ours—chains dangle from the ceiling like twisted vines, sex toys lay on display like forbidden fruit, and at the center is a sex swing. A. Sex. Swing.

In one corner, is an ancient and imposing bed. The dark wooden headboard catches my eye first, with a sword intricately carved into its center, every detail sharp and deliberate. Four tall bedposts rise at each corner, draped in heavy burgundy fabric that cascades down like a protective curtain.

The air is thick with the scent of old wood and echoes of history. This bed… I feel like I’ve already seen it somewhere, though that’s impossible. As I nibble on my bottom lip, I realize where I’ve seen it—in my mind’s eye. Sienna Knight described it in one of her diary entries. This is the marital bed, the bed on which every heir is meant to be conceived.

I swallow hard, my heart hammering against my ribcage. The sight of the chains, the enormity of the bed, it all sends a shiver down my spine, not of fear, but of anticipation. Nicklas senses my hesitation, his touch gentle yet firm as he reassures me without words, guiding me toward the bed.

“Are you ready to play, Kitten?” he rasps, making me shudder in his hold.

Chapter 17

The Breeder

As 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 reflectingon 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!”

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