Page 14 of Stalked By Santa

“I willneverget enough of tasting you, Madelyn Marsden,” he says, ending the kiss and pulling back slightly. “My God, the things I want from you. You have no fucking clue.”

“Then show me, Santa.”

“You aren’t ready, angel,” he growls, teeth nipping my lower lip.

“You don’t know that,” I protest, hating how young I sound.

He closes his eyes, expression pained. “Trust me on this, Maddie. Please.”

“But I want to please you, Santa. Tell me how.” To emphasize my point, I reach between us, stroking his erection through his pants. “Or show me.”

Threading his fingers through my hair, he presses our foreheads together.

“You’ll destroy me,” he murmurs, lips inches from mine. “If I don’t destroy you first. The things I want to do to you are wrong.”

“You couldn’t do anything wrong, Santa,” I whisper. “I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve done together.”

“That’s the entire fucking problem, angel. You’re so innocent, so pure, you have no idea. Hell, just the things I’ve done to make sure Christmas happens…” He laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “Good men don’t become the Santa. It’s a job only a devil can do. A cruel man. A man who won’t hesitate to commit violence to save a child’s Christmas.”

At his words, my gaze returns to the rack of guns, and understanding dawns. I’m horrified but not by Nick’s confession. No, it’s the pain that laced his words, and the sudden suspicion of what this job has likely cost him.

“Would bad things happen to children if you didn’t intervene?”

“Yes, but that—”

I silence him with a soft kiss, then say, “So it doesn’t matter. Not to me.”

“Maddie, if you truly understood, you wouldn’t forgive me. You’d run.”

This time, I kiss his rough stubbled jaw. “Doing bad things to prevent innocents from being hurt doesn’t make you a devil. It’s Santa’s job to keep children safe.”

“Such a goddamn innocent,” he says, stroking my cheek. “Taking you with me was a mistake—one I’ll surely regret but that I couldn’t not make. If I were a good man, I’d order Comet to turn this sleigh around before this gets truly fucked up.”

“No, Santa, please,” I beg, hot tears pricking my eyes. “I want to stay. I’m yours.”

“I saidifI were a good man, angel—but I’m not. I enjoy my job.” Propping himself up on his elbow, he stares down at me, eyes glinting dangerously. “And I enjoy hurting innocents, too—or one innocent, at least. I enjoyed hurting you. Enjoyed spanking you. Your pain made me just as hard as your pleasure.”

“But I enjoyed it, too, Santa. I want you to be my—” I gasp as he cruelly twists my nipple, both from the pain and the answering pulse between my legs.

“Your first? You’ve made that abundantly clear, little one. But you should think carefully before you offer me something you won’t be able to take back.”

“I have, Santa,” I protest. “I’ve thought of nothing else for years. I’ve been saving myself for you.”

“Don’t you ever lie to me, little girl,” he says, wrapping a hand around my throat. “Remember, I know everything about you. Which means that I know what you intended to offer your boyfriend last night.”

“My ex-boyfriend,” I say, my humiliation returning full force. “But…”

“But?” Nick questions. “You don’t deny that you intended to have sex with him?”

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to shove my hurt feelings aside. Because they aren’t important. Barry isn’t important. The only thing that matters is what’s happening in this sleigh.

So I shake my head. “I thought that was what I wanted. But only because… Only because I thought I couldn’t have you. You’re the only man I’ve ever actually wanted. It’s always been you.”

“Stop tempting me with what I have no right to claim.” The hand around my throat squeezes gently. “Don’t you fucking get it? I won’t stop at lightly swatting your bottom—or even at fucking you until you’re sore. Oh, I could promise to stop there, but in the end, Iwillhurt you. I’ll push your limits. I’ll make you experience the pleasure that can come from pain before twisting your pleasure into pain.”

Heart pounding, I stare up into eyes that are now more black than blue, wondering whether my own pupils are that dilated, too. Because, yes, his words scare me, just as he intended. But they’ve also left me restless, achy, wanting, noneeding, something I don’t know how to express…

“How will you hurt me, Santa?”

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