Bought by Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

by B. Lybaek

welcome to the dark side, where stockings aren’t the only thing getting stuffed.

“Your worst nightmare or your sweetest dream,” I reply. “Depends on how you play your cards.”

I’m Nicklas Knight. I get what I want, and I want this hellcat to carry my heir.

“I wouldn’t dream of shooting someone as beautiful as you in the head,”

“You’re mine, Carolina. I’ve bought the right to every inch of you, even your blood.”

“You knew she wasn’t there for your pleasure, yet you looked at hers. You looked at the mother of my heir. My hellcat. Mine. Not yours. M.I.N.E!”

“Because while you were on the phone with your sister, I killed the last man that watched what’s mine. And I’ll fucking kill every single person in Manhattan if that’s what it takes for you to understand you’re mine.”

“Go to hell,” I manage through gritted teeth, though my resolve falters with each thrust of his hips against my ass. His laughter is dark, rich, and utterly maddening. “Oh, my sweet kitten, we’re already there. And you’re mine to burn with.”

“Beg me to make you come.” “No!” My resolve falters—dissipates—as he removes his hand from my pussy. “P-please make me come,” I moan, hating myself a little more for giving in to him. “Such a good kitten,” he murmurs, and then he pushes his fingers inside me.

While we talk, part of my mind stays tethered to Carolina. I watch her laugh, her eyes lighting up the room more than any chandelier could.

“Yes, really. I fucking love you, Carolina—” “You love me?” she gasps, her mouth forming an O.

I wait until her breathing steadies, confirming her descent into dreams where I hope she’s safe from the darkness that clings to my soul.

“Do you know what I did after you fell asleep last night? I killed the sorry son of a bitch who touched you at the party. That’s two men I’ve killed for you, Kitten. And you know what? I’ll kill two a day, every hour, every fucking minute if that’s what it takes for you to finally understand that you. Are. Mine!”

I look at the man before me—a man willing to spill blood for power, yet who holds me as if I’m the most precious thing in his world.

He’s succeeded in making me see him as the god of my world. But no more. Because I no longer need a god; not when I daily worship a goddess.

“You’ve become my weakness, and yet, you’re also my greatest strength.”

I’ll choose her every time, even if it means painting New York red with vengeance. Because she’s the beacon guiding me through the darkness, the reason my world still has any light left in it.

“Give yourself to me. Let me fill you up with my jizz. I want to watch it drip out of your cunt and onto the place my dad took his last breath.”