Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I pick up her wrists and yank her toward the fire.
Her towel’s nearly slipped off, her hair drying in straggles. She stumbles and protests.
I don’t listen.
I drop into the armchair and pull her across my lap, her knees framing me.
My hands roam up her thighs, stopping just before her sweetest spot.
"You think you can disobey me and get away with it?"
She laughs, breathless, exactly what I’m going for.
"I think you should tell Santa you’ve been a good girl," I tease.
"What if I don’t want to play a game?" she says, flirting. "I have work to do."
My lips curl. “Maybe you don’t know the rules yet."
I reach over to the side table where a mug of thick candy cane sticks sits. I grab one, open it, and pop the end into my mouth, and suck until it’s slick and glistening.
I press the tip to her lips. "Take a taste."
Her tongue darts out, pretty and pink. My dick throbs.
“Mmm. Minty. Better than garlic breath.”
But when I trail it down her neck, leaving a sticky, shimmering path, she gasps, laughing, her hand coming up to stop me.
I raise my brow at her. "If you stop me, I’m going to tie those hands up."
Her eyes flash, I dare you.
Then she gasps again as I drag the peppermint cane across her nipples.
"Does it sting?" I ask, my voice low.
She nods, her breath hitching.
"Yes. A bit,” she whispers.
“Good.” I drag the candy cane down the length of her torso—slow, teasing, deliberate. Over her belly button. Down, down, until I reach the top of her pussy.
“Owen!” She gasps, her eyes wide, voice already trembling.
I tease her clit with the very tip, barely brushing, just enough to make her shiver.
“Oh god,” she whispers. “Ah!” Her breath catches. That minty, sticky sweetness must be a shock, cold and sharp, lighting her up. And fuck, it hits me too—hard and deep, just watching her react to it.
I pull it away from her sensitive skin, slide it into the wet heat of my mouth, and suck. She moans, grinding against me.
I want to fuck her so damn bad.
I want her spread and begging.
I love watching her unravel. I love teasing her, winding her up until she’s trembling and desperate.
And I love waiting.
“Open those legs for me.”
She obeys, slow and obedient, her legs falling apart for me like a gift.
She’s glistening, pretty and flushed pink with arousal. I stroke her with the very tip of the candy again, just tracing. Just watching her hips jerk. I lick the candy again.
I remember eating her out this morning. The way she came undone on my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair, that desperate way she said my name.
Bloody hell, I want her again.
I tease her clit with the rounded end of the candy. Her head falls back, and she moans as I tease her, over and over. I bend my mouth to her nipple and gather the peaked bud between my teeth.
I set the candy cane aside, lean over her, and snatch a length of gold garland from the nearby tree. It glints in the dim light, sparkling.
“What did I tell you?” I growl, giving her ass a sharp slap.
“Owen!” She gasps again, her breath hot.
I loop the garland around her wrists, not tight, just enough to hold them up above her head. I clench one end in my fist, anchoring her. She shivers, trembling beneath me.
“Mm-mm,” she hums, needy and sweet.
“Nope,” I say, my voice going stern. “Good girls don’t tell me what to do.”
Then I flip her over in one swift, practiced motion.
She lands on her front, arms above her head, ass up and waiting.
I remember how she lit up like a Christmas tree when I spanked her this morning—her face flushed, eyes glazed.
“You were a good girl,” I remind her. “You got your word count in. You obeyed me in the bath. But now you’re being a little naughty, aren’t you?”
“Owen!” she whimpers, but her hands can’t stop me now. They’re bound in sparkling gold, glittering like a halo she doesn’t deserve.
The first spank is slow, measured—less punishment, more possession. A claiming.
She arches into it, moaning low and desperate, and I trail my fingers between her legs—her clit is sticky and slick. I stroke it, circle it, then lick the sweetness off my fingers, tasting her and the hint of mint with a grin.
The second spank lands harder.
She gasps, so sharp, so pretty, that I don’t stop.
Each strike is followed by my hand, warm and steady, soothing and stroking, blurring pain into pleasure and heat.
I bend down, press my mouth to her ass, stubble grazing her delicate skin as I kiss, then bite.
“Oh my gosh!” She moans again as I land another spank, and then another. Her body jerks with each one, caught between restraint and surrender.
“You gonna be a good girl?” I ask, my hand still working her clit, stroking, circling, spreading her wet heat on her most sensitive parts.