Page 69 of Bought By Santa

Although she makes an excellent point, I can’t bring myself to say yes. When she burst in here, they were all respectful, sure. And yes, I trust them with my life, but I’m not sure I’ll ever fully trust anyone else with hers.

I can’t help but admire her boldness. In a room that has witnessed brutality, she stands completely undaunted, acting like we’re discussing the season or where to go for dinner.

“Okay then,” she says, nodding sharply. “For you, Nick, I’ll try.”

Before I can argue that I won’t ask that of her, she pulls her nightgown over her head, showing me her gloriously naked body.

When I reach for my belt, she tuts as she moves closer. Once we’re so close I can feel the swell of her tits against my chest, she pulls my shirt free from my pants. “I want to undress you tonight.”

I watch her, the way she moves with a purpose, stripping away the layers of my power suit. My blood-stained hands rest at my sides; I’m transfixed by the sheer force that is Carolina Sterling. Her fingers work deftly on the buttons of my shirt, revealing inked skin beneath.

As soon as I’m naked, she slaps her hand against the table. “Lie down,” she commands, and there’s an authority in her tone, a fire in her eyes that matches the heat coursing through me. I do as I’m told, lying back on the cold, hard table where not too long ago decisions about life and death were made.

She climbs atop me, bare and unyielding. She rests on her knees first, smirking as she moves one hand between her legs to remove the plug. As soon as she has it between her fingers, she rubs it against my lips. I eagerly snake my tongue around it, loving the way she tastes.

“Mhmm,” I groan,

Then she wraps her fingers around the base of my erect cock, angling it so she can lower herself onto it. “Tell me,” she pants as she slowly takes me into her body, “about your empire.”

“Our empire,” I correct her. “It’s allours,Hellcat.”

“Ours,” she moans, throwing her head back as she takes more of me inside her. “What’s my role in all of this?”

I groan, feeling her warm center press down onto me. “You’re becoming the heart of it all.”

“Your heart?” she asks, her body beginning to move in a rhythm that has my words catching in my throat.

“God, yes,” I confess. The sensation of her riding me blends with the gravity of our conversation. “You’ve become my weakness, and yet, you’re also my greatest strength.”

I’m caught between awe and arousal as Carolina moves above me, her body a living flame that sears my skin. Each time I reach for her, she slaps my hands away, a silent command that stokes the fire within me. It’s not just about pleasure; it’s about power—the power she’s claiming over both our bodies.

“No,” she orders with each slap, her voice a whip that keeps me in line. “You’ve had the power for too long. Now it’s my turn.”

And I obey, because to see Carolina like this—unleashed, unfettered—is worth any restraint. I’m raw under her touch, under the demand in her eyes. She is the hurricane, and I am willingly caught in her storm.

Her movements intensify, and she leans forward, lips grazing my ear. “And what of your trust, Nicklas? Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly,” I choke out, every bounce tightening the bond between us, forging it in passion and whispered truths.

With a fluid motion, she reaches for my knife on the table, its blade glinting ominously in the dim light. She positions it right against my neck, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. It’s a test, a challenge.

“Even with this?” she questions, pressing ever so slightly, her inner muscles clenching around me.

“Especially with that,” I reply, my voice steady despite the danger. The knife doesn’t waver; neither does her gaze. It’s a dance with death, a testament to the trust that’s grown between us.

“Good,” she murmurs. “Because I need to know that when I bear your children, when I carry on the Knight legacy, it’s with a man who trusts me as much as I risk for him.”

“There’s no one else I’d want to be the mother of my heirs. No one else I’d share this darkness with—” She silences me with a kiss, deep and claiming.

“Nick,” she gasps, the knife still poised as a reminder of the balance between life and death we constantly tread. “I will give you everything.”

“And I’ll cherish it all,” I swear, feeling the pressure build within me. Every stroke, every touch is a step closer to creating something eternal.

She removes the knife from my throat, throwing it over her shoulder. Our bodies move together, she rides me with a fervor that speaks of more than just lust—it’s a merging of souls, an understanding that stretches beyond the physical.

The sight of her, head thrown back in abandon, bathed in the dim light filtering through the blinds, imprints itself into my mind. I’ll remember this: the fierce woman who rides me, determined and yet tender, like she’s carving out her place in my world—one thrust at a time.

“You can touch me now,” she moans, holding up her tits like a delectable offering to me. Wasting no time, I reach for them, pinching and rolling her beaded nipples between my fingers. Her moans intensify, as does every movement of her hips. “I’m so close!”

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