“Alan? Alan Scott? Have you gone to sleep? I can’t believe he’s made such a fool of himself. Come on, you’ll have to carry him upstairs, Alex. The blue haired one’s useless – pretty, but useless nonetheless.”
“Hey, that’s my man.” Belle snorted at her as she rested her feet on Conner’s stomach.
“He can’t even keep up with your drinking, and you’re a lightweight, for God’s sake.”
“I am so not a lightweight.”
“Are, too,” his angel cut in. He smirked at the love floating around and stroked her knee as she sprawled herself in his lap. She’d been sitting there most of the evening, permanently tsking at his clearly inadequate chess moves and rubbing the back of his neck. It was almost as if she was trying to comfort him through the day, keep him safe from any feelings he might be having. He’d had none of any adverse consequence, only ones of happiness, of love. Maybe some of sadness but they’d been overruled by the Scott attack on Christmas.
“Come on, big boy. You’ll have to help him,” Elizabeth’s mother said as she disappeared towards the stairs. He picked his angel up and dumped her back on the chair where she shuffled herself down to get more comfortable. He walked around to Alan, hoisted him up to his feet and propped his arm over his shoulder, then dragged his form through to the stairs.
“Be careful there. That could be considered a hug,” the man said as they reached the stairs, sounding incredibly not drunk. He stared in response and loosened his hold of him. “Every time I see you, I’ll do that, try to give you a hug, and every time I’ll expect you to try a little harder to hug me back, okay, son?”
“I thought you were drunk?”
“We can all play games when we need to get a point across. Bethy loves you, and that means we do, too,” he replied as they began to walk the stairs together.
“You don’t have to love me,” he replied, frowning at the sentiment attached. Regardless of the day they’d had together, he couldn’t possibly mean it, and he wasn’t worth the love anyway.
“Yes, we do. It’s our way, and as long as you make her smile, we always will. Just keep making my baby girl happy and keep her safe and we’ll love you as if you’re our own.” With that, he slapped him on the back and turned into the landing, effortlessly negotiating the furniture. He watched him walk along just in case and chuckled at being played into a hug, a meaningful touch from a man he hardly knew, which felt… What did it feel? Comfortable? “Which room is it, by the way?” the man called, looking at the corridor of doors
“The fifth on the left,” he replied. As far away from his room as he could possibly manage given the noises the man’s baby girl would be making within the next hour or so.
“Merry Christmas,” was the reply as his feet moved and turned into the west landing.
Alex turned back to the stairs to see Belle and Conner making their way up towards him.
“We’re going, too,” Conner said as he rested his hand on the back of Belle’s neck, possessive really for Conner. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him show quite so strong a display of dominance around a woman. It was a clear message being sent; he could almost hear it with every touch. “Don’t you fucking dare, White.” He didn’t need to worry. He wasn’t going anywhere near Belle. He briefly pondered if she’d have fucked him the other night. Would she have actually done it? She smiled at him from Conner’s grasp; possibly, there was a hint of mischief on her face as she stood there. Who knew? He didn’t care anyway.
“Okay, sleep well,” he replied as he stuck his hand in his pockets and headed back down towards his angel.
“Thank you. It’s been really nice,” Belle said quietly behind him. He smiled to himself at her pleasantries. She’d been reasonably nice all day to be fair. She even actually talked to him on several occasions. “I’m still not sure I like you, though.”
He rolled his eyes and kept walking downwards. That was much more like it, and far more comforting. Dislike he could deal with.
He wandered into the lounge to find it empty. Where had she gone? He turned and headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t there, either. He listened to the air around him in the hope that he could hear her somewhere. Nothing, and no music so she clearly wasn’t in the music room either.
“Elizabeth?” he called, turning back towards the dining room. He looked into the study on the way but only saw the dim blue lighting. Where the hell had she gone?
He rounded the corner of the dining room door to see scurrying mile-long legs encased in a short, black, leather skirt trying to stand up on the table. She managed it milliseconds later and finally stood still, hands on hips and a slightly nervous smile on her face. Fuck. The hardening of his cock was instant. He could hardly think as he raked his eyes over her form.
“Christmas present,” she said as she pointed at the table to a black box, and then waggled her finger up and down herself. Happy fucking Christmas. Jesus. The skirt was damn near a belt with long knotted plaits of leather hanging down, the bra leather, too, with zipped fronts, the highest heels he’d ever seen and a thick black choker around her throat. She looked more like a Domme than a sub – something about the way her face was changing as he gazed at her. Pascal was right. It was all there, just as it had been when they were in the room with Roxanne. Switchy. She wouldn’t be if he had anything to do with it. He wandered around the dining table quietly and looked at her from every angle. She couldn’t be more perfect if she tried.
“How strong do you think the chandeliers are?” he said as he finally got back in front of her. She looked upwards and frowned.
“I’ve never really thought about it. I was hoping that this,” she replied, waggling her finger at herself again, “would be more interesting than the light fittings, to be honest.”
“Hmm...” He turned towards the light switch, flicked it off, locked the door, and then mounted the chair and table. She smirked and looked at his Christmas jumper.
“Not very kinky,” she said. He looked down at it with a smirk.
“I don’t know. How often have you sucked Santa off?” She giggled and blushed a little. Christ, he loved that blush, that hint of innocence she wore so well regardless of her current state of dress. “And I believe you said you wanted fucking in the arse. I’m sure Santa doesn’t normally do that.”
“More than likely not,” she replied with a smile as she bent over and picked up the small black box.
“Merry Christmas, Alex,” she said, her voice full of love as she gazed at him and offered it to him. He looked at it and then back at her. There was nothing in that box more interesting or tempting than she was at the moment, so he took it from her and pushed it to the end of the table out of the way. She frowned at him and looked back to it.
“But, that’s...” He brushed past her and grabbed hold of the chandelier to test its strength. It bore his weight well enough as he hung from it and gave it a few tugs. “You cannot be serious, Alex.”
“Can you do a handstand?”
“Uh, yes. Why?”
“Come on then.” She looked at the chandelier, then at him, then back up again, then turned to take a few steps away from him so he beckoned her up with a brow. She sucked in a breath and gracefully stepped into him and kicked her legs up into a handstand. A fucking gymnast couldn’t have perfected the move any better, and given his apparent butchering hands, he was a little surprised at the absolute trust she put in him. He twisted her to face him, then bent to pick her waist up and hoisted her legs over the chandeliers arms until she was dangling like a present sent from the heavens above. Her red hair hung down to skim the table beneath her as he let go of her and took a step away again to stare at the vision.
“Now what?” she said as he continued looking at her, imprinting the vision into his memory under the new title of Christmas presents. There really wasn’t anything else in that box at all.
“Widen your legs and hook your heels under the other arms,” he replied – better access and a stronger hold. Unless s
he wanted to feel scared… Either way was fine by him.
She shuffled a little then relaxed her arms down to trail her fingertips backwards and forwards. He stripped his jumper and shirt off and moved towards her.
“What’s the plan, Sir?” she said, sarcasm dripping off her beautiful lips, which were about to be put to use. He crouched down to look at her face as he swiped a larger than average candle from the candelabra in the middle of the table. “Ooh, are we doing the hot wax thing? I liked the hot wax thing. Have you got a teaspoon, too?”
“No, you said you wanted fucking,” he said as he held the red candle in front of her upside down face.” Her eyes widened as she stared at it and got the drift. “Prepare you, I think you said. And I want your mouth around me, which leaves my hands free. Is every hole preparation enough for you?”
“Fuck,” she muttered, barely audible, but enough for him to smirk in reply and stand up to unzip. He reached for the olive oil on the table and tore at the scrap of underwear covering her backside until it was out of the way. He held it high and poured the entire contents of the bottle over her legs and arse until it was dripping down her. Quick hands delved into both holes, lubricating and pushing in as she moaned and squealed at the intrusion, wriggling and trying to find a more comfortable position. He couldn’t give a fuck about her position, and this would be at his pace, his force. She had no choice and no opinion in the matter. Happy fucking Christmas to him. His cock flexed and pulsed as he felt her insides clenching and kept listening to the mewling and moaning beneath him. He rolled the candle into the oil and began to apply pressure on her pussy with one hand. Pushing it in inch by inch and watching as she expanded to take it inside of her, he grabbed hold of his cock and found her mouth to keep her quiet.
“Open up,” he said, meaning both ends. Her mouth suddenly encompassed his aching cock and he savoured the feeling for a few seconds, warm, wet and with that fucking precision of hers as she wrapped her tongue around him and sucked him in hard. Her hands grasped onto his calves and he felt her nails digging through the material, heightening every need he had to go harder, deeper. More. Slowly, he drew the candle out and then moved it to her arse. She stilled beneath him and dug her nails in again, so he moved his lips and licked across the length of her. Sweet, juicy, ripe for tasting and full of her scent, it was a fucking aphrodisiac to his senses as he drove his tongue into her and felt her legs tighten around the chandelier. Slowly, her mouth began to move again so he began pushing against the muscle keeping the candle out, harder and harder until her lips loosened and she panted out around his cock. He kept licking and sucking, all the time listening to the rhythm of her breathing, the very cadence of her body as she began to let it take all he was pushing for. Every fucking hole was filled, screaming for it and begging for more as she accepted more of his depravity, accepted it and relished it with him.
“Alex, I...” She panted. She what? Wanted more? She could have it. He pushed down on the candle until it hit the end of her and then drew it back up. In and out, twisting it as he did so and continuously licking like a fucking dog in heat as he felt his own release building. Those expert lips of hers were licking and sucking to perfection as she began to drag her teeth along with them. His stomach coiled and tightened at the thought as he lifted his head away and moved his fingers into her. Her juices overflowed with the oil as the slick sounds filled the air around them and he bucked his hips into her mouth for more, quicker. He intended to just watch his hands working, but he couldn’t resist the taste of her in his mouth, couldn’t control the need to have his tongue on her when she came. “Oh, god!” Her voice was muffled by the sound of his cock, now driving into her throat. The fucking angle was indescribable, and as his fingers continued working her, he watched her legs still, felt her mouth still on him. Her whole body tensed as she sucked him deeper in, so deep. One more lick, one more swipe of his tongue, or even a bite and she’d come. She’d come for him. Her inner muscles clamped tight around his fingers as he turned the candle slowly and then ravished her clit with bites, hundreds of them. He couldn’t fucking stop himself from drowning in her come as she exploded around his face.
She swallowed beneath him, swallowed him in and then drew her head back to get away for air. His fingers left her pussy and clamped around the back of her head as he pushed in, again and again and again, until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He shot more and more of his come deep into her. Spasm after spasm shook him to the core as he tried to keep his legs upright and continued to push his teeth onto her swollen, throbbing clit. Fucking bliss, unadulterated fucking torture. His damn sadistic mind was in the fucking clouds somewhere as he pumped more of himself into her throat, savouring the feeling and scent as he did so. Sweet, sticky come drenched his mouth and nose as his lips moved around her and made her part of him, all for him, his fucking angel. His to use, his to do with as he saw fit whenever he chose to. She’d given him that, offered it, with honesty and trust, and he was going to take it. Fuck morals and their restrictions. She’d learn so much more about him as she let him take her further, deeper into his needs, his preferences.
His legs hurt. What the fuck was hurting his legs and dragging him from his fucking bliss? His arse cheeks clenched as he shoved in one last time and breathed out a sigh of pleasure. That was a good Christmas present, one he’d never forget. Elizabeth, the perfect present wrapped up in rope bows and covered in his come. Pain suddenly shot through his cock and made him howl out in surrender as he automatically pulled away from the threat. He looked down at her to find her gulping in lungfuls of air and swearing at him on the release of breath.
“Fucking arsehole,” she blurted out. He raised a brow and inspected his damn painful cock. Blood dripped from the side of it – not that much but still, she’d bitten him? Only one other person had ever hurt his cock. He shook the image from his head and scowled at her.
“Now, that’s not a very nice thing to say at Christmas,” he grumbled, still examining his cock.
“I was near suffocating down there,” she spat back at him beautifully.
“So you thought biting me was a good idea?”
“It was the only-” Another deep breath, then another. “-way I could get you to listen. Get me down from here, for God’s sake. I can’t breathe.” He tilted his head at her and pondered the best response to make her understand that biting his cock wasn’t allowed.
“Say sorry to Santa.”
“What? Fuck off. I could hardly Alex,” she panted out. He smirked at the thought, as he looked at the candle still in her very appealing arse. Maybe he should do something else with that.
“You rarely do with my cock down your throat. Now, say sorry and I’ll think about letting you down. Maybe even taken that candle out of you, unless you want another go, that is?” She looked at him in shock, the pink blush of coming still blooming across her chest, and her face very nearly matching the colour of her hair as she still tried to regain her breath.
“Oh my god. You think I’d do anything after-” He cut across her and snatched hold of her stunning chin. She’d do anything he asked of her, and she’d beg for more of it.
“Don’t ever bite my fucking cock again.”
“Alex, I couldn’t-”
“You ever bite it again and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t. Do you understand?” She nodded and looked down, which was actually up. He couldn’t blame her for that one. At least she’d removed her gaze from him.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. He stood up and yanked the candle from her at an angle. She winced in pain and mumbled another sorry beneath him. Good, his fucking cock hurt, too. Lifting her up, he unhooked her legs as he took her weight and she kicked herself down into a stand, which rapidly ended up in a sit as she tumbled to the tabletop, disorientated. He stared at her for a few minutes while she stared back at him. Her face was the picture of defiance and contempt as he swiped his hand across his mouth to wipe her come off. He licked his lips and chuckled at the vision.
This was going to be an interesting ride whichever way he looked at it. It would be incredible, he was sure, but nothing about this was going to be easy. And whatever happened between them, whatever journey they were going to take, he knew one thing with absolute clarity.
“I love you, Elizabeth Scott,” he said firmly across the table. “Completely.” She smiled a little and stretched her legs out, suddenly looking like the cat that got the cream. She used her feet and legs to kick the black box towards him with a grin. It landed by his feet.
“I love you, too, Mr. White. Merry Christmas.”
Chapter 21
Elizabeth
I ’m sitting by the kitchen window, staring out at the snowy ground. Okay, it’s not overly snowy, but there is snow, and it looks so pretty. I’ve been watching Mum and Dad wandering around the garden outside with Alex as he points out different things to them. They really do like him. Dad’s a little in awe, I think, since Alex showed him the garage, but Mum genuinely seems completely in love with him. It’s not hard to understand why, but the fact is the man is a murderer. My murderer, my sadist and my slice of heaven. They are wandering around with a man who’s killed people, aren’t they? And they think he’s wonderful. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. It’s one thing knowing it myself, accepting it and finding a way to live with it, but that’s my family out there, the people who’ve protected me from everything and just want me to be happy. They’re good people. Why should they be involved with someone like him? They’ll never know it, of course, especially given his absolutely perfect Alex behaviour, but I know it. I can feel it in every move he makes now, and I felt it in the way he swiped that candle out of me, purposely hurting me because I’d hurt him.
Bastard.
I sigh at the window and go back over to the sink to start loading the dishwasher. We’ve all had a very late lunch, having been up until God knows what time last night, and my parents are going back home in an hour. Conner and Belle have already left to go and spend Boxing Day night at some swanky hotel, an official function of some sort that Conner has to be at. So we all hugged and said we’d see each other at Henry’s New Year ball. That’s going to be fun, isn’t it? I can’t wait for that Happy New Year to kick in with a smile. I mean, what on earth are we all going to do there? Play nice and pretend no one’s trying to destroy each other. It’s like The Count of Monte Cristo or something. I’ve also been trying to get my head around whatever it is that’s going to happen in Berlin, with Pascal and his idea of a ball. I’m a little concerned what his idea of a ball might involve, and the fact that Alex smirks very devilishly every time I mention it is also very worrisome.
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