Page 4 of Cupid's Naughty Elf

“Fuck, I needed this,” my cousin, Miriam, says from beside me after slamming back aBad Santashot, the tiny bell on her garter belt tinkling with every step she takes. She’s dressed to kill tonight—seductive yet playful—while her eyes are set on a man who aggravates the hell out of her.

Literal enemies and lovers. Want and hate.

No one understands their relationship—the constant push and pull—yet their public game of chase is always entertaining to watch. They go from hot to cold and then a little mild stalking in between, but then again, I’m no one to judge.

I’m no better.

He’s mine. Only mine.And this slutty elf is out for a good spanking.

Dropping the empty shot glass on one of the high-top tables scattered throughout the hosting ballroom, Miriam adjusts the low-cut, sweetheart top of her dress. It’s lower now, her breasts nearly spilling out, and I wink at her as a few appreciative whistles come from a group of men to the left of us.

We don’t know them. They’re more than likely guests—business associates—of someone in our inner circle, but that’s no excuse for not knowingwhowe are.

Untouchable.

Not for them.

They look to be in their mid-thirties, seem fit, and could be seen as handsome to most...

I’m not interested. They do nothing for me.

Especially the cocky grin the male with blond hair sends our way.

“Ignore it,” Miriam says, pulling my attention back to her. She’s twirling a lock of her mahogany hair around her finger, the look in her eye mischievous. Knowing. “They’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

At that, I snort. She isn’t lying. Because knowing the watchful eyes inside this room, that catcall was strikeone.

“What’s the end game tonight, dear cousin?” I ask before taking a sip of my mistletoe margarita. The cranberry flavor is bright on my tongue. “A spanking or some gagging?”

“Such a filthy mind.” Her red lips curl into a playful grin. “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s because you’re a horrible influence, Miri.”

“The worst,” she agrees, wrapping her arm around me. I’m squeezed tight before she smacks my left asscheek. Hard, it stings, and the clap causes heads to turn our way while that same group of men move closer. Not that they make it far.

Three steps, and Jonah Byrnes and Liam Rutherford intercept them.

Two very overprotective, domineering, and at times possessive men. The latter of the two, Liam, makes my entire body clench in painful pleasure when those green eyes slide down my scantily clad body with undisguised hunger before glaring at the group.

And while Jonah is this year’s designated naughty Santa in red pants and suspenders—a couple’s costume chosen by Miriam to make a statement—my Liam reminds me of a dark knight.

He donned a black-on-black tux sans tie with the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Then, there are the tattoos peeking out from his collar and at his wrist, with his last name spelled across his knuckles. No jewelry. No color. Nothing except a Cartier watch, the gold band a beautiful contrast against his tanned skin while the diamonds surrounding the bezel glint in the room's dim and festive lighting.

This man is sinful perfection.

Is everything I find attractive in a man at six-foot-three with dark hair, while those dangerous emerald eyes follow me everywhere I go.

Since the day we met—the day I moved into my cousin’s beachfront property—Liam’s been a constant in my life. Empathetic toward an eighteen-year-old who lost her parents and was leaving behind her home state of California for the tropical waters of Florida. I was both excited and scared, working through the grief of losing my movie star-mother and music-producer father, when he gave me my firsttrueall-consuming hug.

It was the kind that warmed you down to your marrow while causing your heart to race.

Liam was the first person I saw after walking into Miri’s house. He was also the first person to tell me it would be okay, and I believed him. Always have.

And in the chaos—the crippling heartache—after my parent’s helicopter crash, his warmth helped me find safety in the unknown. Sure, I’ve always been close to Miriam—for years, I’d heard stories about her crazy pack of rich-kid friends during hermany visits—buthefelt like comfort wrapped in the sweetest greed.

Greed because I coveted this man. Have since that day. Moreover, Liam Rutherford has the same confident swagger—as much of a commanding presence—as he did then. Yet as I look at him now, there’s something else there…

Something a little darker. More commanding.

---