Page 17 of Christmas Eve with Krampus

But when he says that? I know exactly what he means.

And, suddenly, I want to know what his pointed tongue feels like almost as much as I was curious about the peppermint.

“Okay,” I say simply. “So… back to the bed?”

Ruprecht’s whole body goes tight. “Josie?”

“I mean, there’s still food on the table. With your magic, I’m sure you can poof it away, but since you seem like the type of guy… demon… to take his time, it’ll probably be more comfy for me to lay down on the bed. What do you think?”

He works his jaw, his beard swaying with the motion. And then… “Do you want me to taste you?”

Do I want him to go down on me?

“I’m willing if you are.” I get up, just so he knows that I’m willing now. Since he’s not saying anything, I’ll choose the bed, and if he doesn’t want to pleasure me… well, I’ve got fingers and the sudden need to get a little relief of my own.

Luckily, I don’t need to use them. Before I know it, he’s used his big body to herd me back to the bed, kissing me quickly, doing something so incredibly amazing with his tongue that I can’t help but think of it as a promise of what’s to come before I’m on my back, Ruprecht hovering over me.

“Stay there, liebling,” he growls, his eyes bleeding to red again. “Let me retrieve the chains.”

Uh. “Why exactly do you need chains?”

At this point, I’m assuming Ruprecht has never had his mouth on a woman before; at least, not a human one. Maybe he doesn’t know that chains aren’t usually a part of oral, but I’d happy to educate him in all ways of pleasuring Jose Butler.

Then again, maybe he’s ready to school me.

“I will be distracted with your cunt. I won’t let anyone steal you from me. So if this is not what you want, tell me now. Because, to taste you so completely, I must do this.” The chains appear between his claws as if by… oh, yeah, magic. “You can trust me, Josie.”

Am I insane for believing that I can?

I lick my lips, then hold my hands out for the shackles. “Okay.”

He’s a damn pro. I blink and my wrists are covered. Fur is slipped between my skin and the metal like before, and this close, I can tell it’s come from Ruprecht’s own tufts. It’s soft and secure and, as he reaches up to connect the chains to the ceiling, I’m even more aroused by how I’m laid out like a Christmas gift for Krampus.

Once he has me where I want him, Ruprecht shoves my gown up until everything below my belly button is bare to him.

I don’t have any panties on. That was something else the council insisted on, and since I figured it would be better to go three days without rather than the amount of bacteria that can build up without changing them, I’ve been commando since I walked into the woods.

Ruprecht lets out a small sound of amazement, and before I can kind of give him a little nudge toward what I expect from him, the big guy just dives fucking in.

Almost instantly, I want to pat myself on the back for this idea. Because that tongue… oh, that tongue.

“You taste even better than oranges, liebling,” he rumbles when he finally breaks for some air, the slight vibration sending shockwaves through my ravaged pussy. “I could feast on your juices ‘til the end of my days.”

Wow. What a compliment. He’s an immortal demon who can conjure meals with a snap of his claws, and he would choose me?

Only… we don’t have until the end of his days. We have now, and as if he realizes that at the same time as I do, he starts to lick me as if he’s already running out of minutes.

As though he’s needs to get impossibly closer, burying his entire face against my pussy, he lays his hand on my upper thigh, pushing me against the bed as his claws start to roam.

No matter how good it feels, I’ve suffered from chronic pain for seven years. It’s instinctual that, between my gasps and moans, I tell him, “Be careful of my hip.”

I’m so used to making that warning that it comes out without me even thinking about it. I always want to make sure that my lovers are mindful that they don’t cause me any more pain—or find out before we do the deed that they found the scars distasteful.

Their loss, and I’m really hoping that Krampus isn’t as superficial as idiot human guys.

He doesn’t say anything about the scars, though. I know they’re not the most attractive. They don’t bother me, though, because they’re proof that I can survive anything if I put my mind to it. Before I can clench up and wonder if they bother him, my demon runs the length of his tongue along the thickest scar. It’s a sweet gesture, almost as if he’s showing me that he enjoys every part of me when?—

“Oh.”

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