I Never Knew You Were Santa Claus

Elena's Point Of View   The room was dim. Shadows stretched across the walls like quiet witnesses to the war between craving and contempt raging inside me.   I sat up slowly, staring down at him.   Though the lights were off, the amber hue of the streetlamp streaming through the window softly outlined his face. Sharp cheekbones. That proud, stubborn jawline. The curve of those lips that had once whispered promises into my skin, before they learned how to hurt instead.   I blinked down at him, my thighs still straddling his waist. His cock still hard beneath me. His eyes watching me with that dark glint, like he knew exactly the power he wielded and didn’t care how he abused it.   “You ain’t serious right now,” I said dryly. My voice was flat. Controlled. Too controlled.   He didn’t answer. Not with words.   Instead, he pushed in again, just the tip, that torturous inch that left everything in me aching for more.   But this time… I felt nothing. No heat. No pleasure. Only irritation. I