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“The princess shall have what the princess wants,” Damien mocks, grabbing the chainsaw from the sled. “Don’t be a brat.” “Shut up,” I mutter under my breath. Without warning, Damien grabs my jaw, tracing his gloved thumb over my lips. “What was that?” he asks, staring at me. His piercing blue eyes leave my knees weak. “You’re the best,” I murmur playfully, gazing up at him. “Daddy.” “Yeah.” He crookedly grins, leaning into me. “That’s what I thought.”
“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I say. Micah turns back to look at me. “I don’t know about that.” “Okay. Name one thing more beautiful than this.” His hand grips my thigh, just above my knee. “You, Quinn,” he tells me. “You.”
“We’ve lived in darkness for so long,” Damien says, grazing his lips against the crook of my neck, trailing down to my collarbone. “You are the only light we have.”
Damien, Jensen, and Micah all stand before me wearing Santa hats. Only Santa hats. My nipples pucker at the festive sight. Holy, not so silent, night.
“Now be a good little slut, and fucking come for me,” I command, rocking my hips. “Before I carve each of our initials into your skin as a reminder of who you belong to.”
“Look at us, your little pets, sitting at your feet,” he says. “Use me, Quinn. Use all of us. We have no limits when it comes to you.”
