Page 115 of Filthy Rich Santas

I turn, slowly, my skin flushing at the feeling of being so exposed and the illicit thrill of the way he’s objectifying me. They’ve all seen me naked before, but this feels different, somehow. Even more intimate and raw than being completely bare.

Maybe because I’m being watched right now, not touched or used or fucked. Just… watched.

Beckett’s toy, which he’s sharing—to an extent—with his friends.

“Fucking hell, you’re beautiful,” Tristan says softly once I’ve done a full circuit and am facing Beckett again.

Ryder makes a low, appreciative sound in the back of his throat, his eyes raking over me, but both of them have a certain reserve to them that makes it clear they’re only voyeurs at the moment. That this is Beckett’s scene. That I’m here for nothing more than their viewing pleasure, a literal object of desire.

A shiver goes through me, liquid heat pooling between my legs. It is degrading, and I’m not sure if I could put into words why it feels so good to be objectified by this. I just know that it does, and that probably a huge part of that is because it’s them.

“May I continue getting undressed, sir?”

“Yes.” Beckett’s gaze is locked on mine, a muscle in his jaw jumping. But his voice is steady as he gives me his next command. “Finish removing your pants.”

I do it, the way he keeps control of me with his eyes alone leaving no room for self-consciousness or awkwardness as I step out of them.

“Good girl. Now the rest.”

I take my time. Unsnapping my bra. Sliding it off. Slowly lowering my panties, then stepping out of them. The usually mundane actions feel anything but casual with Beckett’s eyes burning into me. The familiar brush of my own fingers against my skin as I remove each item sends ripples of fire through me, as if it’s his touch, not mine.

Then my breath hitches, and I have to squeeze my thighs together tightly as a wave of excitement tightens my core, making my clit throb and my pussy flood with wet heat, because it is his touch. I’m his right now, so my body belongs to him. My hands belong to him. My fingers. And using them to remove my clothes is just carrying out his will for me.

“Sir,” I pant, trembling as I stand before him.

He lets his heated gaze roam over me, leisurely and sure. Then he reaches for a throw pillow from the couch, and drops it on the floor between his spread feet.

“Kneel.”

He leans back like a king, knees wide and arms loosely spread on either side of him, my place clear.

“Yes, sir,” I breathe, falling to my knees eagerly.

His answering smile is slow and heated. “So eager. We haven’t even started, and already you’re desperate for me. You really are a hungry little slut tonight, aren’t you?” His eyes drop to my mouth. “You’re lucky I’ve got something to fill one of your empty holes.”

The filthy words make me clench, my nipples hard and my clit pulsing, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

I don’t know how he manages to turn me on like this, to leave me wanting and aching with words alone, but it’s almost overwhelming.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His eyes flick down. “Show me.”

My heart thumps, the room suddenly seeming much warmer. “Show you, sir?”

His lips quirk. “Show me what you’re going to do to earn this.” He grabs the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing it suggestively, then releases it and rests his hand on my head. “Kiss it.”

I reach for the snap on his jeans, and his fingers dig into my hair and tug sharply. “No.”

I shudder, gasping as my eyes water and I jerk my gaze up to his. “S-S-Sir?”

“I said kiss it. I didn’t say you’d earned the right to touch it or see it yet.”

I swallow. “Y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

He holds my gaze for a moment, then smiles. “You’re forgiven. I know you want to be a good girl. Now put your mouth on me.”

“Yes, sir,” I pant, my cheeks heating and my skin prickling with anticipation as he uses his grip on my hair to tug me forward.

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