Christmas Captive: A Holiday Romance Page 11

  "You'll be the death of me, Amicia," he muttered, and I lifted my head, kissing him with every emotion he’d made me feel for the first time.

  He came inside me, with my lips on his and his tongue touching mine. I gasped, and he breathed my name as he buried his cock deep within me, leaking his come out of the tip and filling me up to the very brim.

  He kept rocking his hips back and forward at a steady pace, ripping one last orgasm from my worn-out body. He didn't pull out, not even when his cock stopped leaking. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and kept his cock buried deep within me.

  Everything—our arguments, his work, the auction—was forgotten. The only thing that mattered was that we were together. Because together, we were perfect.

  Chapter 14

  Grayson

  My eyes drank in Amicia's figure as we enjoyed our dinner together. Most nights ended like this, with us peacefully enjoying our food and retreating to my bedroom together. But that night, I had something special planned. Something that would make me very happy, and Amicia very desperate.

  "Meet me in the playroom in an hour," I told her as she put her napkin down. An excited flush colored her cheeks a pretty red, like a Christmas bauble. "I have something fun planned for you tonight."

  "Should I be afraid?"

  "Yes," I grinned. "Very afraid indeed."

  She didn't say another word, but her eyes were aglow with anticipation. I retreated to my office to finish up some work, and an hour later, walked into the playroom where she was already patiently waiting. Amicia sat on the foot of the bed, respectfully lowering her gaze when I entered the room.

  "I have a special outfit for you tonight," I told her, giving her a box wrapped with a bow. "Put it on and make me a drink."

  She uncovered the lid of the box. Inside was a silk red ribbon—a body bow to decorate her perfect figure, along with a pair of tall black heels. Amicia smiled and I gave her some privacy to change, admiring the London skyline through the window. It was certainly becoming colder and colder, and Christmas was approaching too fast for my liking because I knew what it meant. Losing her. And I couldn't lose her just yet. Not until I had my fill.

  "Sir?"

  I turned around, smiling as I saw her in front of me with a drink. I took the tumbler from her fingers, sitting down on an armchair in the room and motioning for her to come closer. Then, I finally allowed myself to drink her in.

  The body bow made her look like a perfectly wrapped Christmas present. She was stunning, from the lustrous shine of her dark mane to the perfectly manicured talons. My cock tightened in my pants in anticipation, knowing I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off Amicia for much longer.

  "Do you like it?" she asked, twirling in front of me. "I think it makes me look good..."

  "Me too," I said gravelly, drinking a long sip of the White Russian she'd become such an expert in mixing for me. "You look sinfully good, Kitty. Do you know what we're going to do today?"

  "You'll make me dance for you again?"

  I shook my head, setting the now empty drink down and motioning for her to follow me. I led her to the area of the playroom where a dark velvet curtain separated the main room from the more intense part of the area. I had kept it hidden for a while, knowing it would scare Amicia when she first arrived, but now, I knew she was ready.

  A long, thin cotton rope stretched across the length of the room, with several knots placed strategically along it. Amicia was too busy fearfully looking at the crops, whips and paddles to notice it, so I gently guided her to the rope, reaching between her legs. She gasped as my fingers wrapped around the ribbon decorating her waxed pussy. I moved it to the side so her center was exposed.

  "We're going to try some rope walking today," I told her with a firm smirk. "I think you'll enjoy it."

  "What if I fall?"

  "Not that kind of rope walking," I chuckled. She gasped as I lifted her off the floor, gently positioning her above the rope. Her gasp soon turned into a moan as I positioned her right over the first knot in the rope which was rubbing against her pussy, reminding her how much she suddenly needed stimulation.

  "Sir, I..."

  "It's okay." I pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. With the click of my fingers, I turned on some slow and sensual music on the speakers, and retreated to the other end of the rope. "You'll start walking soon. Go as slow as you can. If you hurry, I'll punish you."

  "But..."

  "But what?"

  "It's... it's... frustrating," she huffed, bringing a smile to my lips. "It's making me so needy... so wet..."

  "That's exactly the point, Kitty." I motioned for her to come closer. "Start walking while I pick something to punish you with."

  Her eyes fearfully followed my motions as I turned to the wall, trying to pick something to hurt her with. I didn't want the whip, but I did want a cane. I picked one off the wall, thin and painful when it made contact with skin. I had never used it before.

  When I turned to face Amicia, I realized she hadn't moved an inch from her position, shivering on the spot.

  "Didn't you hear me?" I furrowed my brows. "Don't make me punish you for being too slow."

  "Please, I-"

  The cane snapped against her thigh and she yelped. A red, raw mark appeared where I hit her and she whimpered. I was turned on and almost as desperate as she was for me to be inside her. But there was an important difference between Amicia and me—I knew how to control myself, and she didn't.

  "Better start walking," I reminded her. "Don't want to get hurt again, do you?"

  She looked miserable as she shook her head, but we both knew that would change soon enough. She started moving then, slowly putting one foot in front of the other and coming toward me shakily.

  She let out another moan as the rope dug into her skin, teasing her pussy with insufferable friction. I couldn't wait to see the wet traces of her arousal on that rope. My skin bristled with the possibilities of everything I could do to her that night.

  "Come on, Kitty," I encouraged her softly. "Keep going."

  "No." She shook her head, vehement. "I don't want to. It's too much."

  "Did I give you a choice? It wasn't a question," I reminded her. "You signed a contract, remember?"

  She just stared back stubbornly, refusing to budge from her position and just glaring at me.

  "Remember your friend Capri?" I asked, eyes twinkling darkly. "Remember who she ended up with? Don't you know how lucky you are, Amicia? I could be treating you so much worse... And you'd probably end up loving that, too."

  "How dare you," she hissed.

  "Watch that mouth." I hit her with the cane again and she shrieked, staring me down, obviously offended. "It will get you in too much trouble. Just be a good girl and keep walking."

  "I hate you," she muttered, but along she moved, more and more moans tearing themselves from her lips as she attempted to walk closer to me.

  "It's frustrating, isn't it?" I teased her mercilessly. "I bet you're getting so fucking desperate... The rope must be soaked from how dripping wet you are."

  She didn't need to tell me she hated me this time—her eyes spoke for themselves. But she kept moving, and I found myself being proud of her as she kept going despite the difficulties. Her cheeks reddened into a dark red color and she looked angry, but she walked. She walked until she finally reached me, collapsing into my arms with a sob while the rope still rubbed her raw, drippy pussy.

  "Good girl," I muttered into her hair. "Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you, Kitty."

  Gently, I lifted her off the rope. I carried her over to the bed, but when I attempted to climb on it with her, she pushed me away. I was taken aback by her insolence, glaring down at her.

  "Are you trying to get yourself punished?" She didn't answer, just stared back with pure hatred. "Ten hits with the cane. You'll count them out loud."

  "Fine," she hissed, positioning herself on her belly and exposing her toned ass. "Do it if you must."

&nbs
p; I didn't like the sudden bratty streak she'd seemed to develop, but I was certain ten hits with the cane would beat it right out of her. I started hitting her and she counted with gritted teeth. She didn't cry. She didn't beg me to stop. But when we were done, pure anger radiated from her body like warmth.

  "Still hate me?" I asked her. No answer, again. "Kitty. You need to speak to me. Don't forget about the money."

  "How could I?" she asked. Obviously I'd struck a nerve. "You bring it up all the time. And if this is all about the money to you, well, then-"

  "Who said it was all about money to me?"

  "I..." She kept glaring at me, still angry. "I know you-"

  "No, you don't know anything," I interrupted. "You just think. But you don't have to think anymore. In fact, I'll make it really easy for you. Get on your back."

  "But it will hurt and-"

  "Get. On. Your. Back."

  Teeth digging into her bottom lip, she considered her options. Soon enough, she turned around, wincing when she lay on her front. I applied salve to the marks I left on her then, carefully rubbing the red spots where the cane had hit her.

  "Is that better? Can you tell I care now?" I asked.

  She turned to look at me over her shoulder. "You haven't even fucked me."

  "In your world, fucking means I care?" I chuckled. "I'll fuck you, Kitty. If that's what you really want."

  She swallowed thickly, eyes drinking me in. Finally, she nodded without saying another word. I smirked at her.

  "I should have known."

  I stripped the bow off her body and she shivered beneath my touch, raw nerve endings fraying at the thought of me being inside her. But I took my time, torturing her more and more with each second that passed and I didn't give her what she was so desperate for.

  "Beg me," I finally told her, fingers tracing her lips. "Beg to be fucked."

  She looked like she was going to snap back, but the desperation must've gotten the best of her, and her bottom lip trembled as she said, "Please, Sir. I need you. Fuck me... Please, please, fuck me."

  I took my cock out of my pants, gliding it along the red lines left on her juicy little ass. "I might pick a different hole tonight."

  She gasped as she felt me poking between her cheeks. "Sir, I..."

  "You don't want it?"

  She swallowed thickly, eyes fearfully meeting mine. "I do... I think..."

  "Good." I smirked, turning my attention to her tight ass and parting her cheeks with a groan. "Goddamn it, Kitty, you're fucking perfect."

  I spat on her exposed, puckered hole, watching my spit dribble into her ass. I kept going until she was wet enough to handle me, and then started pushing inside her, gently but insistently. She gasped, and it felt like the gasp never stopped. It turned into a long, scared moan as I entered her. She was impossibly tight, making me clench my teeth together in an effort to hold back.

  It would've been so easy to just fill her then and there, but I needed to pace myself, to wait before I took her fully. So I waited, slowly filling her, inch by fucking inch until she was devastatingly close, begging me for a release I was reluctant to give her since she'd been such a bad girl for me.

  But as I fucked her, I found myself getting closer and closer too, and I couldn't hold back much longer, needing my Kitty as desperately as she needed me.

  "You want to be filled up?" I muttered in her ear.

  "Yes," she whispered. "Fill my hole, Sir..."

  "Which hole?"

  "My..." She swallowed thickly. "Fill my ass please, Sir."

  I grabbed her hair and held it firmly in my fist as I fucked my first load into her tight, accepting hoel. She came with me, without permission, but for once, I didn't give a damn. All I wanted was to feel her body trembling against mine as I emptied my load into her.

  Afterward, I held her in my arms and we fell asleep right there, in the playroom bed. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night to find her curled up practically on top of me, clinging on for dear life.

  Absent-mindedly, I stroked her soft hair, wondering how this would all end.

  Kitty deserved a happy ending.

  Chapter 15

  Amicia

  Time was passing fast. Too fast.

  We were getting closer and closer to Christmas and the date Grayson would let me go. Since I'd confessed my feelings to him, he'd been even more gentle and kind with me, but it filled me with worry that he'd send me away once our time together was up. After all, he'd paid for my time for a reason, and he'd told me plenty of times before he never kept his playthings for longer than a few weeks.

  Still, I found myself hoping I'd mean more to him than most of his other toys. I wanted to stay. I wanted him to make me stay with him, to ask me to be his forever. But I hadn't expressed those thoughts yet, and as the twentieth of the month rolled around, I woke up in a cold sweat from yet another nightmare, clinging onto Grayson out of pure fear of him abandoning me.

  I'd been dreaming of Margaret every night. The terrors never went away, the horrible feeling of guilt threatening to eat me up whole.

  It was my fault Margaret was gone, and I'd never be able to forgive myself.

  One night, years ago, I'd arranged to meet a man who'd lend me money in secret.

  I hadn't wanted Margaret to find out about my secret appointment, knowing she wouldn't approve. So, I'd found the contact through a friend of a friend—someone who I knew was sketchy but could surely help me out of the hole I'd dug for myself. Loyalty bonded me to Margaret, but I was eager for dance lessons. And while I paid for her expensive groceries—none of which I ever got to experience—I kept wishing she'd lend me some money, at least a little bit, to pay for the dancing lessons I wanted to attend so very badly. But that time never came.

  The man I was meeting arrived twenty minutes late, and by the time he'd appeared in the back alley behind a grocery store, I was freezing in the chilly winter air. He asked me for a name, and I instantly panicked, rattling off Margaret's name in a frenzy. The man didn't question me. He barely even looked at me, pulling out a stack of cash.

  "You want this?" he'd asked me. "I've got five grand here."

  "I... I don't need five grand," I'd whispered. "Just a couple hundred... I don't need much more..."

  "We don't do small business like that," he'd told me. "Five grand, thirty percent interest rate. You pay us back in two months. We got a deal or not?"

  I hesitated. On one hand, the money was all I'd need to get my career off the ground. I could even leave Margaret, finally be free once I turned eighteen in a few months. I found myself nodding to the man's question, and he shoved the money in my hands. I rattled off Margaret’s address when he asked, then quickly pocketed the cash, and by the time I'd looked up to ask him how he'd collect the money, he'd already disappeared into the shadows.

  I returned home a shaky, nervous mess. Margaret glared at me from her position in front of the TV.

  "Where were you?" she'd barked at me. "I've been waiting."

  "I got held up at the grocery store," I muttered, unloading the groceries on the dining table.

  "Did you get it all?"

  "Everything you wanted." I stored away chocolate bars and candy, steaks, expensive booze. None of it was for me. Though I cooked and prepared the food for Margaret, I existed on a diet of cheap TV dinners and ready-made meals. "I'll be in my room."

  My room was a cabinet with a small bed and a chest of drawers under the stairs. I buried my hands in my coat and made a beeline for it, but Margaret stopped me with her walking stick held up in the air.

  "Where are you going in that coat?" she demanded. "Take it off and hang it by the door, lazy girl."

  "I..." I swallowed thickly. "I was just going to clean it."

  "Looks fine to me," she barked. "And you need to get started on my ironing, anyway. Take it off."

  Hesitantly, I pulled the coat off me and went to hang it by the front door. I discreetly pulled out the money and attempted to put it in my poc
ket, but Margaret appeared behind me, nearly scaring me to death.

  "What's that?" she demanded, pulling the stack of bills out of my hands. Her eyes sparkled when she saw the money. "That's a lot of money, Amicia. Where'd a lazy girl like you get this much? Have you been whoring yourself out?"

  "No," I said firmly. "I... Well, I borrowed it. I wanted to start taking dancing lessons, like I told you about."

  "Dancing lessons?" she repeated, shaking her head in dismissal. "What a stupid idea. You don't need dancing lessons."

  "Please, Margaret." I was reduced to begging already. "It's all I've ever wanted. I'll return the rest. I just need a couple hundred..."

  "Nonsense." She smacked my hand away when I reached for the cash. "I'm keeping this. Let it serve as a lesson for you, for trying to hide this from me."

  "But I have to return it!" I called out desperately. "With interest."

  "I'm sure you had a plan to return it," Margaret waved her hand dismissively.

  Yes, I thought to myself bitterly. With the money I'd make once I finally got a dancing role.

  I tried to argue with her that whole night, but she'd had enough of me an hour into the conversation, beating me with her walking stick until I had to drag myself to the little room beneath the stairs. I was black and blue the next day, but that wasn't even the worst of it. Worst of all, I had to return the money Margaret had stolen from me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg someone for help, but where the hell was I supposed to go? There was nobody willing to help me.

  The money disappeared within weeks. No dance lessons, and nothing to show for it. I knew the collector would be coming, and I was terrified.

  Sure enough, two months later, the man came to collect.

  He was nice enough at first, but the moment he realized I didn't have the cash, his attitude took a turn for the worse. He told me my interest rate was now forty percent, and that he'd be back in four months.

  This repeated itself until I was up to a hundred and twenty percent interest years later. I had no way of paying him, no way of getting out of the mess. I'd avoided our last few meetings, hiding from him, because I didn't have any money to give him. By then, I'd picked up a job at a seedy bar waitressing. I hated it, but I painstakingly put every pound Margaret begrudgingly allowed me to keep aside. Still, I didn't have much. Certainly not enough to cover my growing debt.