Page 54 of Sinning for Santa

I kind of want it to be a thing right now, because self combusting and turning to ash sounds a helluva lot better than knowing these people heard me… Oh god, they heard me have an orgasm.

It’s more than obvious these people know exactly what just happened in Devon’s office. Well, maybe all but the couplesitting at the end of the bar, their expressions solemn as they stare into their drinks.

“Jaxcen,” Devon calls, turning his dark gaze to me. “This is Ronnie. He’s your man if you’re thirsty, but he doesn’t make those fruity cocktails. If you want one of those, Miss Barber serves them at her house on Friday and Sunday afternoons. The only payment she expects is a plate of treats.”

I nod, even though I’m not sure why I need to know that because I’m not staying.

Then it hits me once again.

He brought me here against my will.

Kidnapped me.

And now he’s making me into his… his… plaything.

For a moment I feel used, but then I remember that not once has he used my body for his own pleasure. He’s only given it to me.

I’m so confused.

“Come on, love. I’ll show you around.”

Devon starts walking off, and I freak out, feeling the light breeze coming through the door rush up my dress and over the bare flesh between my legs. With both hands pressed to the sides of my thighs, I hurry forward, hoping the damn thing doesn’t blow up.

“Devon!” I whisper yell, catching up to him. “I can’t walk around without panties on.”

He chuckles. “Sure you can.”

“Stop. This isn’t funny.” I complain, as he leads me out to the front porch lining the Palace.

“It is for me.”

I slap his arm which just makes him laugh again at my damn expense and keep walking down the steps and out onto the path.

Oh. My. God. He’s really going to make me walk around without panties on, isn’t he?

Glancing over my shoulder to the large entrance doors, I consider bolting back into the building and up to his suite to get a new pair to put on, but the thought he might catch meand throw me over his shoulder again has me squashing that idea.

My naked coochie will surely be noticeable if he does that.

Dammit.

I concede and follow behind.

As we walk side by side, I keep my dress in my clutches, making sure there’s no chance of it flying up with the breeze.

Devon shows me the convenience store, the bakery, the butcher, and all the little shops that make up a small country town, before leading me up the hill to some of the house lined streets, all of which are decorated with Christmas dressings.

I find myself listening contently as he explains who lives where, the deep timbre of his voice having a calming effect on me that I’m not willing to analyse.

I should probably tell him I’ll never remember all of this, nor will I ever need this information, but he sounds so proud as he speaks. I can also see it in his confident stride and the tone of his voice. This little community means a lot to him.

Once again, most of the residents I notice are females, and the only men in sight are dressed in back vests and armed with weapons, all bar a few older men that were starting their drinking sessions early in the bar, and a middle aged man that ran the butcher’s store.

It’s clear Devon is the king here, and this is his Palace.

I don’t want to even think it’s possible, but I’m pretty sure these women are his.

Like he owns them, or they are his wives or something. They look at him with such respect and admiration, which really doesn’t match up to the cocky asshat I met in the church.

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