Page 114 of Filthy Rich Santas

“Then let’s begin,” he says with a slow, heated smile.

“Okay,” I breathe out.

“Call me ‘sir’ until the scene is over.”

I nod, another shiver going through me. “Okay.”

He raises a single eyebrow, his grip tightening me again. “Okay…sir.”

“Oh! Sorry. I mean, yes! Yes, sir. Okay, sir.”

Something heats up inside me with the use of the honorific, awakening a yearning I didn’t know I had. I’ve tried so hard to be good, to be perfect all my life, but always felt like I fell short of it. Like I was a disappointment.

But not here. Not with him.

Beckett is telling me exactly what to do, and all I have to do to be perfect—at least, perfect for him right here and now in this scene—is to do it. It’s both freeing and wonderful, and the thrill that rushes through me when he praises me for obeying him is so heady that it’s almost addicting.

“Good girl. I know you can remember to address me properly. Now show me how well you can obey me.” He releases his hold on me and moves me off his lap, setting me on my feet. “Take your clothes off.”

I’m wearing a soft sweater and yoga pants, comfortable clothes from traveling all day but not anything particularly sexy. But the split second of disappointment I feel about that is gone in an instant, burned away by the heat of Beckett’s gaze.

He’s not concerned with what I’m wearing. He told me to be good for him. To obey. To undress.

I grab the hem of my sweater, lifting it quickly.

“Slower,” Beckett says firmly, making my clit throb and my nipples pebble.

I pause, my sweater half off and goosebumps raising on my skin despite the warm temperature in our room. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Those two words again, and this time they hit me so hard I actually sway a little.

Beckett reaches out to steady me, his fingers caressing my hip and then gripping it tight, like a reminder that we both agreed he’s in charge right now.

“Go on. You know what to do.”

I do, and he sits back in his seat, powerful legs spread wide as he watches me slowly finish taking my sweater off through hooded eyes.

A rush of pleasure hits me as his gaze flares with heat and the weight of Tristan’s and Ryder’s attention burns into me from behind. My clothes may have been chosen for comfort, but the bra and panties I have beneath are sheer and lacy, giving me a boost of confidence.

I reach back, undoing the clasp on my bra.

“No,” Beckett says firmly. “Pants first. I want to see if my pretty little slut chose a matching set.”

The word hits me like a shot of adrenaline, lighting me up inside in a way I never would have expected. Maybe it’s because I know degradation is one of his kinks, something he’s getting off on. Or maybe it’s because I’m discovering it’s one of mine too, unlocking the freedom to be completely shameless in my submission.

I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my yoga pants, slowly pushing them down to just below the curve of my ass, letting him see exactly what he asked for. That the pale blue panties are sheer enough to see my trimmed bush through, just like he can see the darker pink of my areolas around my pebbled nipples through the matching bra.

“Like this, sir?” I ask breathlessly.

His eyes, darkened with lust, sweep over me. “Yes. Fuck, look at you. Lush and sexy, and all mine. Isn’t that right?”

A shiver runs through me at the growl in his tone, the praise making me glow. “Yes, sir.”

I start to push my pants the rest of the way down, but he stops me again.

“Turn around. Let me see my new toy from every angle.”

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