Page 33 of Candy Cane Chains

"You'll taste every inch..." Her voice trails off as I slide my hand down her throat.

"Until you beg." I lean closer, my lips brushing her ear. "And you will beg, sweet girl."

The Christmas lights cast shifting patterns across her skin as she tests the restraints. Not fighting them - just feeling their presence, accepting their control. Her breath comes in short gasps when I trace the crescent moon birthmark on her neck.

"Please..." The word escapes her lips like a prayer.

"We're just getting started." I hook my finger in the bottom of her shirt, dragging it up until her breasts are exposed. "Day one of twenty-four. I can't wait to hear you scream each day as a countdown for me."

And then I lean her back, pulling away her shorts and shoving up her shirt so that I can make good on my promise. I kiss and suck and bite every inch of her before rolling her onto her stomach and doing the same along her backside.

By the time her skin is pink from my ministrations, she's dripping wet and whimpering. I lick the tears from her face, pushing her knees up underneath her so that her pretty pussy is on display.

And then I feast.

After two orgasms, I release Ivy from the lights, watching the faint marks they've left behind. My thumb traces over the indentations, memorizing their pattern against her delicate skin. Her chest still rises and falls rapidly, hair tousled from where she'd thrown her head back.

"How did that feel?" I keep my voice low, measured, even as possessiveness burns through my veins at the sight of her sprawled out before me.

Ivy blinks, surprise flickering across her features. "You're asking me?"

"Of course." I gather her in my arms, walking to the couch and settling her in my lap. I'd ripped the damn shirt off her at some point so she's naked in my arms. "I want to know everything - what makes you gasp, what makes you moan. Every sound, every reaction." My fingers trail up her spine. "I'll find every way to wring pleasure from that perfect body, but I like to hear that you want it."

Something shifts in her expression - a softness I haven't seen before. She ducks her head, but I catch the vulnerable look in her eyes.

"No one's ever asked before." Her words come out barely above a whisper.

The admission sends a surge of cold rage through me. I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You're mine now. That means your pleasure is mine too."

I capture her lips in a deep kiss, swallowing her soft gasp. She belongs here, with me. Not with some trust fund brat who treated her like a trophy. I'll show her exactly how she deserves to be touched, to be claimed, to be owned.

My hand cups the back of her neck as I break the kiss. "Tell me what you want, sweet girl. I'll give you everything."

My chest constricts hard when she tips her head back, staring up at me with those amber eyes that nearly bring me to my fucking knees. In the softest voice, she answers, "You."

I think she's trying to fucking kill me.

17

IVY

Isprawl across Julian's leather couch, his laptop balanced on my thighs. The living room's dimmed lights cast a soft glow across the screen as I scroll through Instagram stories. Another perfect party photo appears - Sophie toasting with champagne, her sequined dress catching the light. I swear I spot Xander just behind her.

To another great year!reads the caption beneath along with hundreds of comments, even ones from Jess and Lily.

I keep scrolling, seeing Jessica at her firm's party with the same guy as before. He looks a little dangerous, his hand wrapped around hers, but she's smiling. Which is unusual for her.

I click to the next story. Lily's small town is decked out in twinkling lights, trees visible in the background while her friends are all posing or goofing off in the background.

My fingers hover over the keyboard. I could message them, let them know I'm safe at least. But Julian's security protocols run deep - I've seen how his system flags any suspicious activity.

He keeps me close, controlled, cherished in his own intense way. The thought doesn't scare me like it should, not when Iremember how his ice-blue eyes darken when I submit to his will.

Another story pops up - the downtown Christmas market where Katie's showing off her new engagement ring. The same market Julian and I walked through last week, his hand possessive at the small of my back while he bought me mulled wine.

The laptop's screen reflects my face as I watch my friends' lives continue without me. Their laughter and joy are captured in fifteen-second snippets while I sit here in Julian's penthouse, wrapped in silk and luxury and his overwhelming presence. Even when he's not in the room, I feel owned. Protected. Possessed.

I'm not delusional enough to think he doesn't know what I'm doing. The computer probably logs my activity. But if I ask, he gives it to me, in the way he knows how. And I appreciate that.

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