Page 42 of Christmas With The Kings
I stepped back to admire my work and my girl. Purple ropes traced delicate geometry across her glowing skin. Her chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths, her body humming with surrender.
“God, as much as I love having you all to myself, I’d give anything to have the Reaper here to draw you like this. Fuck, baby,” I groaned.
“Do I look pretty?”
“You look like a fucking masterpiece.Mymasterpiece,” I said honestly.
“What do you see?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“More than you’ll ever know.”
“Would you like permission to take a picture?” she asked, her little voice wavered, and I realized the gift for what it was.
And there was no way I would fucking turn it down. “Only if you are okay with it,” I breathed, steading my hands as I reached for my phone. She wouldn’t have mentioned it if she wasn’t going to give it.
“I think it will make the Reaper super jealous, so go for it.”
I chuckled as I snapped several from different angles. Then I tossed it to the side and dropped to my knees, humbled by the sight of her. It was deeper than the fact that she was beautiful, breathtaking even. It was more that she trusted me enough to give herself over completely.
I started with her neck, brushing a strand of hair away before pressing a slow, deliberate kiss beneath her ear and down her neck. “For your obedience,” I whispered against her skin, letting my breath chase the word into her.
Another kiss at the hollow of her throat, where the knot of her chest harness lay snug and steady. “For your heart,” I murmured.
I trailed downward, tracing the sternum knot with the backs of my fingers before bowing my head again, pressing my lips to it. “For your strength.”
At her wrists, bound in front of her, I kissed the ropes. First the left, then the right, letting my hands follow, fingertips grazing the skin exposed between each wrap. “For your gentle soul,” I said reverently. “And your fire.”
She trembled, her breath hitching, but didn’t speak.
Moving lower, I adjusted to the side and leaned in to kiss the small of her back, right at the dip where spine met curve, where the ropes hugged her like ribboned devotion. “For your surrender,” I breathed.
Her whole body melted at that—loose and languid, but humming beneath the surface. She felt safe, and I hoped, worshipped.
I smoothed my palm over the swell of her hip and whispered, “Let me take care of you now.”
Carefully, I stood and gathered her into my arms, still tied and trusting. She exhaled into my neck, soft and warm as I carried her to the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace. I settled her there, positioning her with slow, patient care until she was laid out like something sacred.
She looked like a prayer answered. And I had every intention of continuing to worship her like one.
“Color?” I asked.
“Green,” she whispered, breath catching.
Her pulse beat fast beneath skin, which was flushed pink. Her chest heaved in anticipation.
“You’re doing so well,” I murmured, brushing a hand up the inside of her thigh. “Look at you—completely open and beautifully restrained.”
I stepped back and waited. One minute sped by, then two and finally five more.
“Daddy?” Her voice wobbled, uncertainty ringing loudly. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Lustful whimpers rose between us as she tugged and twisted wildly at the bonds. I could see them digging intoher soft flesh as there wasn’t any give. Raw lust shot through my core as I continued to watch her struggle.
“What are you feeling, baby girl?”
“Scared,” she whimpered.
“Are we zheltyy then?”yellow
“Not fully, but close.”
