Sadie's Little Christmas - Maren Smith Page 0,46
in all the right parts of her, she nodded.
“I’m glad your need to run wasn’t born of jealousy.”
Sadie shook her head. “I’m not that kind of person. Well,” she quickly amended herself. “I did feel a little twinge, but it wasn’t bad. It helps to know I’m the one you’re going home with.”
“They get Master Derek,” he broke down slightly further. “You get Daddy, whether you want him to be gentle or not.” The pad of his thumb caressed the bow of her bottom lip. “But gentle isn’t what you’re needing. Is it?”
The shiver that rolled through her was as delicious as it was unexpected and centered in all the right parts of her, tickling her nipples until they tightened. Doing the same further down until her clit was pulsing and throbbing in time with the heady beating of her heart.
She shook her head.
“All right,” he decided, smoothing back her hair. “When I’m done playing Santa, we’re going to go back to the house. You have from now until then to make sure what you’ve just asked for is what you really want because once we’re home, darlin’, the only thing that’s going to stop me is your safeword.”
She shivered again.
He stood her up, rising to tower over her. His hands continued to hold her, warm and strong, as comforting as they were capturing.
“Think about it,” he cautioned her. “Think about it really carefully. As much as I would love—and I do mean, love—to be your Daddy, I’m a Dom, and that side of me likes to play hard. I can no more deny the latter than I could the former. If you’re afraid I can’t give you what the masochist in you needs, all I can say is, wait, babygirl. Wait until Daddy gets home. Because I’m going to bring it.”
Chapter 8
I’m going to bring it. That’s what he’d told her, and oh, had he ever meant what he said.
Derek played Santa like he did every year, but his head wasn’t in it. It was on Sadie, the perfect other half to all his Daddy needs, and he hoped, his dark side, the sadist who found sensual, sexual release in inflicting pain beyond simply spanking.
He was going to pull out his ropes. He was going to pull out his strap, cane, maybe even his whip. He held chubby Little Ben Stevens on his knee while the shy man stuttered out a request for trucks and dinosaurs and although in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help wondering as he always did if Ben wouldn’t pair nicely with gentle Domme Mallory Wren, who saw herself more as a Nanny than a Mommy, his focus was absolutely, shamefully on how he was going to plot out his night with Sadie.
He’d start slow, test how much she could take, how she responded to everything he did and what he used. He’d find out what she liked and what she didn’t. He was going to let his dark side play until she just couldn’t take it anymore, until she had enough and fell sagging in her bonds, her own dark needs sated. He didn’t for a second think she’d be able to last as long as he wanted to go—no one ever did—but it would feel good to finally get to play, nonetheless.
Ben crawled off his knee, and eyeing the small bell pin Nanny J had pinned to his uniform collar, Derek reached into his bag, feeling around inside until he found the bell tied on a ribbon around the neck of a plush brontosaurus. Every one of his Littles got a toy when Santa came to visit, and he always knew which toy went to which submissive by the individual pins Nanny J attached to each boy and girl as she got them psyched up for a day of holiday fun and decorations.
As far as he knew, none of the Littles, even his holiday repeaters, had yet to figure out his system. Like Ben, their eyes got huge and sometimes teary, and they just thought it was magical how he just seemed to know what they wanted most.
“Thank you,” Ben whispered, taking the dinosaur from him. He walked away, hugging it, and bouncing, sassy Amy immediately rushed up to take his place.
Derek hiked her up to sit on his lap, ho-ho-hoing all the way, but his gaze still drifted across the room, locking on Sadie, who hung back reluctantly. Nanny J was with her, stubbornly coaxing and encouraging her to get