Page 26 of Silent Night Sins
Fuck me—I’d never been more turned on.
The sight of that small, pointy blade and the feel of her fingers stroking my dick should have terrified me. I should have been limp, but there was no self-preservation instinct to shrivel up under her threat.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Didn’t expect the prey to bite back?”
“Why don’t you show me your teeth, baby,” I growled. “Or are you all talk?”
Nicky scoffed. Grabbing a handful of my shirt, she tugged the material away from my skin. With a vicious flick of her wrist, she stabbed the shirt and tore the knife through the black fabric. Opened and bare, she gazed down hungrily at my body.
“Looks like Santa’s the one getting wrapped tonight,” she breathed.
Fucking yes, angel, do your worst.
Chapter 9 – Nicole
It was hard to believe it worked. The plan was full of flaws. One of which was the late delivery. But by the time the cab dropped me off, the boxes of equipment were waiting at the front door. I rushed to set the trap, hoping against hope that Cristiano wasn’t going to walk in on me setting up this whole scene. The next problem, the biggest, proved to be the waiting. I downed an entire energy drink and gobbled up half a dozen cookies, but I found myself yawning around midnight.
Just when I thought he wasn’t coming, I heard the steps at the back door. The burst of adrenaline was cataclysmic. I was sure he’d hear my heart racing from the caffeine and sugar overload.
Everything happened so fast.
I knew it was his exhaustion from the fight that tipped the scales in my favor. While I felt bad for the physical assault of trapping him, it worked. The monster was at my mercy.
What a beautiful sight.
Heat drenched my panties as I sat back on his thick thighs, gazing at the sexy masked man who was at my mercy. Reaching into my back pocket, I set the steak knife down beside us and used both hands to tie a red ribbon around his throat, catching the fabric hood of the ghost mask under the binding.
“There.” I drew my fingers down his chest. “Almost done.”
I flicked the strap of his belt, shimmying the material through the buckle, but the wheeze in his breath snagged my attention. I snapped my gaze to his chest. The right side was a macabre scene of purple, angry bruises. I brushed the tip of my fingers over the mess, and Cristiano tensed under me.
If there was any doubt in my mind that this wasn’t Cristiano Messina, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, this bruise was all the proof I needed.
“Looks like your reindeer kicked you good,” I murmured. “Didn’t give them enough carrots?”
“Something like that,” he said tightly from behind the mask. “Don’t stop on my account.”
I caught my lip between my teeth. That injury looked bad. It couldn’t be comfortable for him to be bound, with an arm caught on each side.
“We could make this more vanilla if you need—”
“Don’t. Fucking. Stop.” Cristiano’s voice was granite. “If you set me free, I’ll only turn the tables on you, angel.”
I shivered. This might be my only chance for the foreseeable future to have my way with him. “Fine, but your safe word is cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon?” he spat. “Ah vaffà, dai!”
Italian. I’d missed the subtle clue the first night in my terror.
Now, the vicious curse was music to my ears.
I giggled. I wished like hell I could see his face. “If you’re in danger of real physical harm, I want you to use it.”
“I’m not using a safe word,” he snapped. “Get on with it.”
Such big talk.
I picked up the knife, placed the blade between my teeth, and drew the belt from the loops around his hips. Tossing it to the side, I held the material of his pants away from his skin. The delicious hitch of his breath made me smile as I pierced his pants with the tip of the knife.
