“Not anymore. I don’t know if Nico told you this, but he said he wouldn’t have agreed to have any sort of relationship with me unless you were part of the arrangement. He also paints you as the victim of his uncontrollable passions.”

  “He’s a manipulative little motherfucker sometimes. Have you noticed? “she asked.

  “I’ve noticed. Gets it from me. One of his finer qualities.”

  “Definitely. Does that mean you’ll be getting me a different cursed gift this year?”

  King shook his head from side to side as if he were shaking a Magic 8 Ball and the answer was…

  “No.”

  “Fine, fine. After all, Nico is the gift that keeps on giving. And giving—”

  “Stop. Arrêt!”

  Sometimes Nora just couldn’t help herself. “I will get you something, though. If I can think of anything mischievous enough.” She grinned.

  “I shiver at the very thought. See you at breakfast. Late breakfast. Ten.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  He kissed her goodnight, one little air kiss on each cheek. A very different kiss from how he used to say goodnight. Not even the notorious Nora Sutherlin, she told herself, was deviant enough to sleep with a father and his son in the same week. Except for that one time when she was twenty-nine. And she didn’t count that. He was technically a stepson.

  Søren slipped through the back door of her house shortly before one a.m. Nora was awake and waiting for him. She left her bed and went downstairs to greet him in the kitchen.

  “How was church?” she asked after kissing him.

  “Fine. Too much hugging. And I would have given a better homily.”

  “Of course you would. Let’s go to bed. I’m exhausted from eating literally everything in the entire world.” She started to leave the kitchen and return to bed when Søren gently gripped her by the arm and pulled her back to him.

  “What do you want for Christmas?”

  “World peace.”

  He glared at her. “You forget I know you. You came up with that game because you already have a gift in mind, don’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  He took her chin in her hand and forced her to nod her head.

  “All right. I do.”

  “What is it? I know I don’t want to know, but that’s the game.”

  She told him about Nico’s meeting in New York next week, with the new investors in his winery, how he had a free night and could fly down to New Orleans. One night only.

  “You’re seeing him next month,” Søren said.

  “I told him you would say that.”

  “We have an arrangement.”

  “I also told him you’d say that.” She ran her fingers through his hair, cupped the back of his neck, rose on tiptoes, and put her mouth to his ear. “You forget, I also know you.”

  She stood back on her feet and looked at him, arms crossed over her chest. This was deliberate. Her black nightgown was low cut, and by crossing her arms under her breasts, she created what she hoped was some distracting cleavage. Søren was a sadist with a singular predilection for pain, but, and this was a fact, even sadists liked tits.

  “I’m not sure this gift would qualify under the terms of the game,” he said. “It hurts me to give it to you, and it’s something you want, but how is it also something you don’t want?”

  She met his eyes in the dark of the kitchen. “Because I don’t want to hurt you. And it does. I wasn’t going to tell you until after Christmas. But…” She took his hand in hers, squeezed his fingers, “you asked.”

  “I asked.” He smiled rather ruefully at himself. Clearly, he regretted asking.

  “While I’m with Nico, you can beat the shit out of King.”

  “I’m sure I will. And you, too.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders, looked up at him. “If it helps, he’s much more jealous of you than you are of him.”

  “Is that so?”

  “He never asks about us because he can’t stand hearing the details. But he was relieved when I told him I was going to eat way too much tonight for us to fuck.”

  “You did eat an impressive, almost a concerning amount of oysters.”

  “Juliette went to all that trouble. So…is it a yes? I can tell him to book his flight?”

  He took a moment before answering. She knew he already had his answer, but he was making her wait for it because he was a sadist, and because he could.

  “Yes.”

  She smiled with relief. “Thank you, sir.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “You will pay for my generosity.”

  She laughed softly. “Of course I will.”

  “Right now.”

  “What? It’s after one in the morning. And I ate too much. I’m bloated and borderline nauseous. You can’t stuff anything else into my body. There’s no room.”

  Søren looked up as if trying to remember something. Then he simply said, “I don’t care.”

  Nora winced. She wanted to get tied up and flogged right now about as much as she wanted to go running. Exhausted, stuffed, and she’d already told Nico she and Søren weren’t going to have sex tonight. Which she’d made the mistake of telling him.

  “Don’t worry,” Søren said. “I’ll be gentle and quick.”

  “I don’t believe that at all.”

  He took her by the wrist—gently, she had to admit—and pulled her into the living room. The urge to dig in her heels like Céleste was strong, but she gave in. Such was the plight of the submissive.

  “But… It’s Christmas.”

  “As a Catholic priest, I am very familiar with the date,” he said.

  “You’re really going to make me do kink on Christmas?”

  “Christmas used to be such a hedonistic festival of sex and drinking that the Puritans banned its celebration. Let’s say we’re having an old-fashioned Christmas.” He stood by the Christmas tree, the lights still on, and took off his suit jacket. The sight of him standing there in his elegant black vest, white shirt sleeves, tie still perfectly knotted, and a look in his eyes that said he would tolerate no argument…that helped.

  He stood her one foot in front of him and held up a finger to indicate she should wait while he did whatever evil, awful thing he was going to do. What he did was bend down to take a present out from under the tree.

  “You said too much hugging at church tonight, and now you want to fuck?”

  “You know I don’t like being touched except by you and Kingsley. And I don’t, as you say, want to fuck. I want to make you suffer. And then fuck.”

  “You can’t say fuck at Christmas.”

  “You started it.” He handed her a small box with her name on it. “Open it.”

  “If I have to.”

  “Little One.”

  “If I have to, sir.” She had to. With a long sigh, she tore the red ribbon off and then the white paper. She had no idea what was in the box. It was about the size of a necklace box but a little too heavy.

  Taking off the lid, she thought it might be a necklace after all. She saw chain links. Then she realized what she was looking at.

  “Oh, joy. Nipple clamps.”

  She hadn’t worn nipple clamps in a long time. They were more of King’s thing than Søren’s. Well, tonight they were clearly Søren’s thing. He lifted the long silver chain out of the box. At each end were two clamps, wicked-looking and heavy. Softly he wrapped the long chain around her neck so she could feel the cold metal against her throat.

  But the box wasn’t empty.

  Inside it was a silver ball—a silver bell?—small with a clip on the end.

  Søren hung the little ball onto a pine needle on her tree. He only smiled.

  Slowly he gathered the folds of her nightgown in his large hands and drew it up, up, up her body until she had to raise her arms. He pulled it over her head and tossed it lightly onto her sofa.

  Now she stood naked in front of the Christmas tree. She hoped no Puritans were outside her house watching.

  Søren went down on his knees in front of her.

  “Never should have gotten my clit hood pierced,” Nora said with a sigh. Now she knew what the little ball was. A weight.

  “Are you whining? The great Mistress Nora, the dominatrix of dominatrixes, is whining?” Søren’s voice was full of amused disdain.

  “Guess what? Dominatrixes whine. Dominatrixes do whatever they want to do. That’s why we’re dominatrixes.”

  “I’m a sadist,” he said. “We do whatever you don’t want us to do. That’s why we’re sadists.”

  Nora groaned as he lightly fingered the little loop that pierced the folds of her clitoral hood. Blood rushed to her labia. Her breathing quickened. He was making her wet already.

  There was just something wrong with being wet on Christmas.

  Søren spoke his orders softly—Spread your legs a little, tilt your hips forward, stop complaining, or I really will gag you.

  “I have recurring dreams where I’m telling the pope about the wicked shit you’ve been doing to me for the past twenty years. One of these days, I’m going to do it.”

  “Give my regards to His Holiness.” Carefully he pulled on her piercing, holding it between his index finger and thumb. She moaned as her clitoris slowly woke and began to throb. He took the tiny silver ball off the branch, and by the light of the Christmas tree—oh, they were going to Hell for this—he clipped it onto her ring. It was about the size of a marble but heavier, and as he slowly let the ring go, she felt the weight of it pulling her clit hood. It hurt. Not agony. More like sensation, tugging.

  If that wasn’t enough, Søren leaned in and flicked the ball with his tongue. For a split second it was weightless, and then it came down again, feeling even heavier. Nora groaned softly.

  Søren came up to his feet and walked in a circle around her as if inspecting her body. He seemed to like what he saw. He came to a stop behind her. She shivered as he ran his hands down both her arms until he reached her wrists. He took them in his hands and brought her arms up and behind her head. With her hands clasped behind her neck, she could only stand and wait while he stroked her body. Her sides, her hips, her stomach, and then, of course, her breasts. He cupped them, and she knew what was coming. He didn’t disappoint. He took her nipples between his fingers and pinched them. Not too hard but hard enough, the pleasure grazed against pain. As if he had all the time in the world, he toyed with her nipples, pinching and rubbing them until her breasts felt heavy and her nipples were hard as diamonds.

  Nora panted quietly as Søren brought his hands to the chain around her neck. She thought he planned to take it off, but instead, he pulled it tighter until she felt the cool links of the silver chain biting into her throat. Just for a moment, just for a breath or two or three, she felt the fear of suffocation, of choking. He let her feel it. She knew he wanted her to feel it. If that’s what he wanted, she would give it to him, gasping his name once and quietly, a warning they were at the edge of what she could take.

  And then it was over.

  Søren tenderly kissed the top of her head, whispered, “Good girl.”

  God damn him, Nora thought. He could choke her and then make it feel like a point of pride she’d endured it all. And the insane thing was…it did make her proud of herself. Proud and aroused.

  He was aroused, too. Hard. His cock pressed against her hip. He slowly, teasingly drew the silver chain off her, letting it slither over her naked skin.

  One at a time, he cupped her breasts and placed the little clamps onto her stiff and throbbing nipples. Cold metal. Hot skin. Pressure like tiny teeth biting into her flesh. Before, she hadn’t wanted this at all. Now she wanted nothing else but this.

  Søren gripped her by the back of the neck and forced her to bend over. Thank God he hadn’t ordered her to keep her hands behind her head. Nora placed her hands on the arm of the couch to steady herself for what was about to come.

  “Wider,” Søren said, and she knew he meant her legs. She spread her legs wider. His fingers found her labia, the little ball, and he toyed with it. Then he released it again, and she cried out as the weight made itself keenly felt on her clitoris.

  “How on earth does a priest buy nipple clamps?”

  “Griffin is useful sometimes,” Søren said. “Not often, but sometimes. Wider. Arch your back.”

  She spread her thighs even wider and arched her back until she gave Søren a view of her cunt rarely seen except by her OB/GYN. Søren took his cock out and let it brush against her ass.

  And all by the light of the Christmas tree.

  The tip of Søren’s penis pushed up against her labia. He guided it through her wet and swollen folds until it kissed the entrance of her body. He’d either slam it in with a single forceful thrust or enter her so slowly it would be equally torturous. As wet as she was now, she almost wanted the first. But of course, he would go slow. She felt the tip sink inside her, thick and pushing. He went in slowly. Slowly enough that she felt every inch as it slid in and up until it grazed her cervix. He still gripped the back of her neck. The bruise she’d have there would last a week. His other arm held her around the waist, keeping her in place. Her breasts ached from the bite of the clamps and the weight of the chain. Her clitoris was swollen and throbbing.

  “God,” she breathed. “I guess oysters really are an aphrodisiac.”

  Søren kissed the back of her neck. “You are an aphrodisiac.”

  His entrance into her might have been slow, but the next thrust was fast, rough, and deep. No more talking now. No more teasing. Just fucking. Quiet but for her soft cries and his hoarse breaths. He drove his cock into her again and again with no consideration for her comfort or pleasure. She wasn’t comfortable at all, not bent over, spread out, and weighted down as she was. But there was pleasure. The pain gave her pleasure. The flood of sensations gave her pleasure. Her feet bare on the soft rug, her hair falling into her face, brushing her cheeks, his scent like the delicious distant smell of fireplace smoke in winter—it all gave her pleasure. And most of all, the thick cock that moved so deeply and easily into her slick hole. He worked her onto his cock with the grip on her neck. It had been a long time since he’d fucked her this roughly. The price she paid for seeing Nico. Worth it. It would have been worth it even if Søren had told her no.

  The muscles inside her tightened, began to pulse around him. Every thrust stretched her back open again, pushed back against the tensing, clenching walls of her vagina. His hand moved from her stomach to between her legs. His fingers found the weight. He cupped her vulva with his palm, and the heat of his hand on her clitoris made her moan like a whore.

  With a cry of release she couldn’t stifle, she came all around him. A stream of hot fluids filled her and filled her.

  After her orgasm, she went limp. Her head was dizzy. Her eyes couldn’t focus. Søren slowly pulled his penis from her body. All the sadism had been spent along with his come. He was kind to her now, careful, gently pulling her up and around to face him. His warm mouth sought hers and found it. His tongue went deep, and she opened her mouth to take it all.

  The kiss was drugging. She was almost ready to be fucked again when he broke it off. He cupped her again between her legs, pushed two fingers up and into her semen-slicked vagina.

  “Mine,” he said simply. “Mine to keep. Mine to give away.”

  There was only one thing to say to that.

  “Yours.”

  He made her wear the nipples clamps until they were in her bed together. His naked body pressed against hers. She lay on her back, hands behind her head again as he removed the clamps. He massaged her sore nipples with his fingers and then, of course, with his mouth and his tongue. He was going to make her sleep with the weight on her clit ring. As long as she was laying down, she could barely feel it. But every time his hand strayed between her legs and he touched it, she inhaled sharply and was aroused all over again.

  Using only his hand, he gave her another orgasm. Three fingers inside her body still full and dripping with his sperm. He opened her and stroked the quivering hollow above her pubic bone, working her until she lifted her hips into the air, froze in a final moment of climax before crying out and collapsing back onto the bed.

  She might have fallen asleep right then if she hadn’t heard Søren laughing quietly in her ear.

  “It’s not funny,” she said. “I really had no interest in doing that tonight.”

  “Yes, I noticed you hated every moment of it.”

  “You know, no means no.”

  “For vanilla people,” he reminded her. “With us, no means yes and your safe word means no. If you really didn’t want to, you should have safed out.”

  “Yeah, but then you would have stopped.”

  He laughed again, louder, and then drew her across his chest. “I love you, Little One.”

  “Even when I’m a big whore with no self-respect where your cock is concerned?”

  “Especially then.”

  “You’re a bit of—” She was about to call Søren a whore himself when she heard her phone buzzing on her nightstand. “God, it’s Christmas. Someone better have died and willed me a billion dollars.”

  She slapped her hand on her phone, brought it to her face. Blinking, she saw it was Griffin again.

  “Griffin says he and Mick are still laughing about you and Kingsley getting together finally.”

  Søren made a sort of groaning sound, which she translated as, Everything I’ve ever done in my life I regret if it means I have to put up with Griffin’s good-natured ribbing.

  “I’m so pleased we can provide amusement for the two of them.”

  “I’m telling him to go to sleep. Apparently, he just fucked Michael half to death.”

  “Surely an exaggeration.”

  “I’ll tell him you said that,” Nora said, quickly typing out the message.

  It was Michael who replied from his phone. “He’s not exaggerating.”

  “Why is every man I know horny out of his mind tonight?” Nora asked. A rhetorical question. “This is not what the Lord intended for his birthday. Poor Juliette. Who knows what King is doing to her right this second.”