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When I pull out and set her on her feet, she frowns, pressing her palms into the glass as she gathers her bearings. “You didn’t…”

“Don’t fucking worry, little one. I’mgoingto. When you get to that bedroom, I’m gonna push you down on that plush mattress and fuck you so hard you forget your own name. Then, I’m gonna come while I’m deep inside you, paint you like my own little porcelain doll.” I grip her chin, leaning down to lick her bottom lip, reveling in the taste of us on her. “I like waiting. Making you work for it. When I come for you—inyou—it’ll be because you earned it.”

She shudders, and skitters from the bathroom without another thought.

I suck in a deep breath, willing my cock to get ahold of itself, before I follow her. The Boston skyline peeks through the curtains on her balcony door, and the glow of a bedside lamp and the white Douglas Fir Christmas tree in the corner are the only light we’re provided right now.

There’s something poetic about it, as she stretches out on the mattress. Parts her thighs for me, a gift all its own, as if aware that all I wanted this year was her.

The Ricci family Christmas party rages on downstairs, and I can’t help wondering why no one has come after their precious heir.

Why no one has thought to check on their princess, to save her from the evil she’s so hot for.

A little thrill races through me as I think about Mateo waltzing in when I’m buried balls-deep in her. How red his face would get hearing her call my name, coming on my tongue, moaning for me the way she never will for him.

God, I’m sick.

Fucked in the head.

Even that isn’t enough to keep me away.

“Flip over and look at the wall. Don’t move,” I tell her as I walk to the tree, considering for a split second that maybe this isn’t the best idea.

That I could tuck tail and run before I’ve done any real damage. Sure, she’s less pure now than she was an hour ago, but purity is merely a social construct, anyway.

Taking Elena Ricci’s virginity isn’t quite enough to blacken her soul. To shred hers to pieces the way mine was years ago.

It doesn’t eliminate the inherent goodness inside her.

Doesn’t really make her mine.

Yet my feet are rooted in place as I stare at the LED lights twinkling in the plastic branches. My stomach cramps at the idea of leaving her half-satisfied, and me without having taken full advantage of the guise of privacy here in her bedroom.

Once I leave here, the illusion stops. The notion that she belongs to me, that she’s the Persephone to the portrait of Hades that everyone depicts me as… all of that’s over.

And I’m not ready, or willing, to give it up.

Not yet.

So instead, my hand whips out, yanking one strand of lights from the tree; it topples over as they unravel, crashing to the floor. I don’t bother fixing it as I pull the plug from the wall and turn back toward the bed.

My dick leaks as I take in the sight of her rounded backside, the puffy, abused flesh winking from between her legs. My palm itches to turn more of her creamy skin crimson, for the color to expand beyond where it’s smeared across her pussy and inner thighs, but I want her to beg for it first.

“Kallum,” she whimpers, and I can see her arousal dripping from her.

“You may be the birthday girl,” I start, inching toward her with the lights wrapped around my fist. “But I refuse to rush the celebration, little one. You asked me to do this, remember?”

Ever the obedient little slut, she keeps her gaze trained on the white upholstered headboard. Her body stays in place, even as her fingers clutch at the goose feather comforter, as if bracing herself for me.

She huffs, shivering slightly when I drag the tip of a bulb across the arch of her foot.

I ignore her, reaching for her ankle. Looping one end of the lights around my index finger, I pull the strand over so it constricts around the digit, knotting gently.

If I tug on the length anymore, it’ll tighten, refusing to release me, so I’m careful as I remove it and lift her foot, slipping the loop around her.

Fastening another knot on the adjacent wooden bedpost, I move to the other side of the footboard, dragging the lights along with me.

With just the one string to work with, securing her to the bed is a bit awkward at first; she shifts as I work another loop around her other ankle, spreading her legs to accommodate the strain of the binding.

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