Page 8 of Candy Cane Chains

I pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing those amber eyes back to mine. "I've never kissed a woman."

Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. "Are you... are you a virgin?"

A harsh laugh escapes me. "No. Sex is just a release. A physical act. Kissing is..." I struggle to find the words. "Too intimate."

And I really, really never wanted it before. Never wanted someone that close, wanted their taste lingering in my mouth.

"That's fine." Her voice is soft, understanding. "We don't have to-"

I jerk her body flush against mine, one hand tangling in her hair as I dip down until our lips nearly brush. Her breath hitches.

"But you…" The need to possess, to take, to break, it's all-consuming. "I'm going to take everything from you." The words come out like gravel. "Every inch. Every breath. Every fucking piece of you is going to be mine."

Then I crush my mouth to hers and my whole world shatters. Her lips are soft, yielding, perfect. She tastes like whiskey and something sweet, and I want to fucking drown in it. A sound tears from my throat as she opens for me, letting me devour her.

My hands tighten in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. As expected, she crumbles as she whimpers into my mouth. I've never felt anything like this - and I want more.

I want all of her.

I lift Ivy in my arms, her body light as a feather. Our mouths clash, the kiss turning savage. My hands roam, finding the hem of that ridiculously short Mrs. Claus dress and sliding beneath it. Her skin is smooth, warm, and she squirms against me, a soft moan escaping her lips.

I drag my teeth down her neck, biting the tender flesh. She gasps but doesn't pull away. Instead, she tilts her head, offering more. Perfect. I sink my teeth in harder, sucking until I know I've left a mark. She takes it, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her breath coming in ragged pants as she grinds against me.

Carrying her to the bed, I rip down the top of her dress, exposing her breasts. Her nipples are hard, begging for attention. I dip my head, capturing one between my teeth. She arches into me, a cry tearing from her throat.

"More," she begs, her voice hoarse. "Please, more."

I growl, moving to the other nipple, biting until she writhes beneath me. Her skin is already marked, red welts rising where I've suckled and bitten. The sight sends a surge of possessiveness through me.

"You take it so well," I murmur against her flesh, my hands moving to strip her completely. The dress goes, tossed onto the floor, leaving her in that little Santa hat, white thigh highs, and those fucking candy cane heels.

I run a hand down her thigh to her calf, hitching her leg up around my hip and run a hand over the red and white striped heel. "These stay on," I command, my voice rough.

Her eyes widen, but she nods, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I unbuckle my belt, the metal clinking as it hits the floor. Her gaze follows the movement, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I tell her, my hands sliding up her calves, past her knees, pushing her thighs apart. She's already fucking soaked. It drives me wild.

I lean down, biting the inside of her thigh. She gasps, her hands fisting the bedsheets. I do it again, harder, sucking until I leave another mark. Mine. She's fucking mine.

"I'm going to mark you," I growl, my fingers hooking into her little red lace panties, tearing them off. "Claim you." I dip my head, biting just above her pubic bone. She cries out, her hips bucking.

"That's it," I praise, my hands sliding up to cup her breasts, squeezing hard. "You're doing so well."

Her body is a canvas, and I'm the artist, painting her with bites and bruises. She moans, her head thrashing from side to side as I continue to mark her, to claim her. Each sound she makes, each movement, drives me closer to the edge.

I stand, unbuttoning my shirt. Her eyes follow my movements, her breath coming in quick gasps. I shrug out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Her gaze roams over my chest, my scars, my tattoos. She doesn't shy away from them. Instead, she reaches out, her fingers tracing the raised skin.

"You belong to me now," I tell her, my voice a low rumble. "Every inch of you. Every breath. Every fucking moan."

She nods, her eyes meeting mine. "Yes," she whispers. "I'm yours."

A thought hits me. Reaching into my nightstand, I pull out what I'm after and give her a look. "Trust me."

She just nods again, and it makes my cock jerk. How obedient.

Ivy's wrists look tiny, delicate, wrapped up in the red velvet ribbon I pulled out. The ends trail down the sides of the bed, framing her body like a depraved present.

Leaning down, I bite down on her earlobe, sucking it into my mouth as I work my way back down her body. I want her covered in evidence from me.

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