Page 54 of Christmas With The Kings
Yup, I wasright. I needed to get us back on track here. “Alright point made but I still stand by the concept.”
“Got it. You’re so adorable and one hundred percent deranged. Possibly certifiable.”
“You say deranged. I say I am the defender of the holiday spirit,” I shot back, chest puffed out proudly. “And I will do it unto death.”
Then I dropped into a dramatic crouch, practically naked and losing the seriousness I was going for, but I was committed now, so I unsheathed my blade and raised it to the heavens.
“If I fall in battle, my beloved, promise you’ll bury me with my blade and hang fairy lights on my grave. I’d like to request ‘Last Christmas’ at my funeral.”
The laughter that spilled forth only warmed my heart even more. This was what I’d been missing. Just being silly with them and creating new memories that he would never forget. Because let’s be real, the ass I’d made of myself would not be easily forgotten.
“Let’s get you dressed fully, you damn lunatic. Before I cancel the whole day and bend you over the bed, little defender.”
“Oh, so we can start filling the receptacle early then?”
He growled. “No we can’t. We have commitments…but how about I compromise with you? I’ll let you strap your blade to my ankle.”
“Excellent idea—just in case Barbie brings a friend. Two blades are better than one.”
“That’s my girl.”
I melted at that, but before I could reply, he took my blade, sheathed it and set it down. Then he reached for the dress. It had a built-in bra, which was nice. He pulled it over my head, tugged it down into place, and then stepped back to admire his work.
“You forgot something,” I said, arching a brow.
“Did I?”
“I mean, unless you wanted me to be bare for the world to potentially see. What if a gust of wind blows my skirt up? What if a rogue gentleman corners me while you’re occupied?”
“Not likely.” His mouth quirked. “At least the last part. I already told you—I’ll be with you the entire time. And you won’t be bare.”
I tilted my head. “Oh?”
That was when he pulled out the last gift he’d given me from his pocket. The red lace panties and toy.
My cheeks warmed instantly. “You want me to wear—”
“I do.” His smirk widened.
My stomach dropped, heat racing straight between my thighs. He was still wearing the ring. My breath stuttered. The ties dangled on either side, delicate, sinful. After laying it across the dresser, he fashioned a bow.
“Step into this side,” he ordered.
I did, pulse racing, my boldness giving way to a nervous flutter as he guided the panties up my legs. He lifted the soft fabric before sliding it between my legs; his fingers brushed my pussy. I rocked into his hand seeking friction.
His response was to slip the bullet into its pocket, and adjust it. The heel of his hand pressed it snug up against my clit as he settled it perfectly against me.
With a quickness he tied the other side snug at my hips. I thought he was done, but then he turned his attention to the first knot he had tied. He cinched it tighter and formed a new knot. One that wouldn’t come undone easily.
“Is that a scout’s knot?”
“It is. And I was pretty decent at it, so your little toy is all safe.”
Understanding dawned. I whimpered, a needy edge sneaking into my voice. “You’re going to edge me today, aren’t you?”
His hand lingered on my hip, a thumb stroking once across the tied ribbon. His expression was pure promise.
“I am. And how hard depends on how well you behave.” He smirked.
