Page 2 of Cupid's Naughty Elf

I’ve let her live her life while she shamelessly flirts with me at every turn, watching from the shadows while ignoring every coy grin and sway of her hips. Pretending the way she’d place a delicate hand on my arm—turned a blind eye to the tiny dimple that makes a sexy appearance when my sweet girl smirks—wasn’t created by God himself to torment me.

She’s temptation divine. So fucking beautiful.

“Sixty seconds.” Taking a sip from my bourbon, I exhale roughly before undoing my belt and pulling it from the loopsbefore tossing it aside. It lands near my discarded shirt, shoes, and socks—the small clang reverberates throughout the room, causing my endearing darling to tense.

For her lips to pucker while her adorable nose crinkles and her eyelids twitch.

Piper’s becoming restless. Alert. Finally taking in thepredicamentshe’s in.

And then it...

“What the hell,” Piper whispers, tugging on her right hand but only lifting her wrist a few inches off the mattress. Then the other. Both movements test her binds, and each attempt meets the same result.

Confusion. A spike in adrenaline: hers and mine.

Her legs also meet the same fate.

From her ankle to mid-thigh, she’s held in place by mysurprise, and the more she tests each restraint, the more her anxiety grows. It’s there in the rapid rise and fall of her chest—how her bottom lip quivers—and yet she doesn’t open her eyes.

My poor, helpless elf.

Motherfuck, she’s precious.

And while I’m sure this will earn me a punch to the ribs later—Piper can be a little violent at times—I’ve read her diary and know her darkest desires. Secrets she writes down in the form of a story, a dirty novella, from her bed every night. The characters don’t have names, just mentions of a man and a woman, but there’s no denying the descriptions fit us.

From our physical to our mannerisms. It’s us—her desires.

And at the end of each entry, our names are written in a perfectly drawn heart.

Liam + Piper

Til Death

Even afraid, there’s no hiding the puckering of her nipples beneath the velvet corset or the goosebumps across her soft skin. My teeth ache at the sight—my cock throbs, and yet I don’t move.

No. Instead, I start the mental countdown. Twenty seconds left.

Each tick of the clock sends a fiery lick across my every nerve ending, from the tips of my toes to the base of my skull and down again to my engorged tip. The years of blue balls and denial were for this moment.

She’s my prize. My most coveted possession.

At fifteen seconds, I stand up and undo the button of my slacks before lowering the zipper.

At seven seconds, I pull my cock out and stroke it, slow and leisurely from base to tip.

“One,” I hiss from between clenched teeth as the room fills with soft, holiday lights, and two things happen simultaneously. Her eyes snap open and her head turns my way, those gorgeous hazel orbs meeting mine. They widen and her pouty mouth forms my name, but no words come out.

Then, there’s the smart speaker beside her.

It comes to life and my voice filters through, the opening notes of the traditional Happy Birthday song causing her lips to twitch. There’s a hint of amusement in her hazel eyes, and I can almost see the sassy response sitting on the tip of her tongue—she thinks this is a joke—but then Piper fully takes me in:

Naked.

Cock hard.

Feral need on my face.

Her lips open, but no words come out as she watches me stroke myself. Piper never looks away, and I don’t stop. Instead, I tighten my grip and revel in the way her pupils dilate and her teeth embed themselves into her bottom lip. How she tries toclose her thighs but can’t because my little festive decorations don’t allow it.

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