Page 23 of Slay All The Way

“Johnny, I need you,” she whines, her voice filled with desperation. “I need you so much.”

“Good girl,” I growl, slamming into her one last time, reveling in the way her body shakes with the force of her release. She comes again, her walls milking me for everything I have, and I groan, burying myself deep inside her as I finally let go, spilling into her with a low, guttural moan.

When it’s over, I collapse on top of her, both of us panting, spent. Pulling off my mask, I brush my lips against her ear, a dark smile on my face. “I’m going to melt you down, make you my perfect match in every way,” I whisper. “You’re mine, snowflake. Forever. I’ll take care of you. No one will ever hurt you again. Not like Mark did.”

Her eyes widen at the mention of him, and I can see the pain flashing in them. She’s thinking of the way he made her feel. How he broke her heart. I know, because I was there. I saw it all.

“I’m the only one who knows how to treat you right,” I continue, my voice low and tender. “Mark never understood you. He never saw the real you. But I do.”

I undo the ribbon just enough to lift her from the bed, cradling her like the fragile thing she is. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight me anymore, and it’s like something inside her has finally shifted. As I carry her into the bathroom, I hum the same Christmas tune that’s been echoing in my head for days, a dark lullaby that only I understand.

She’s going to see things my way. Eventually, she’ll thank me.

11

ALASKA

Jingle Bell Rock - Our Last Night, Cole Rolland

As the heat of our first encounter still lingers in the air, Johnny gently sets me down on the floor, my legs shaky beneath me. My body is still vibrating from the mind blowing orgasms this stranger, Johnny, just gave me—every touch etched into my memory. I feel a swirl of emotions: confusion, exhilaration, and an unexpected warmth spreading through me, making me feel both vulnerable and yet, empowered.

He moves with purpose, turning to run the bath, and I can’t help but watch him, captivated by his every action. There’s something mesmerizing about the way he navigates the space, his strong hands adjusting the water temperature, ensuring it’s just right. I can see the steam rising, curling around him, making him look almost ethereal. He reaches for my favorite vanilla-scented bath salts, pouring them into the water, and I can’t help but smile at the small, yet meaningful gesture.

“Vanilla,” I murmur, the scent enveloping me like a warm embrace. “You remembered.”

He glances over his shoulder, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Of course. You were so relaxed the other night. Thought you might like it again.”

He lights all my favorite candles, filling the room with a warm glow and that comforting vanilla scent, creating an atmosphere that feels both intimate and safe. It’s the kind of scene I’ve only ever dreamed of, and I can hardly believe it’s happening.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low rumble, as he steps closer to me. I take a deep breath, allowing the warmth radiating from him to wash over me.

He helps me into the bath, his hands firm yet gentle on my waist. The hot water envelops me, and I sink into its soothing embrace, a soft sigh escaping my lips as the tension in my body begins to melt away. Johnny watches me, his expression softening as he takes in my blissful reaction.

With a sponge in hand, he begins to wash me, his movements slow and caring. Each stroke sends tingles of pleasure coursing through me, igniting every nerve ending. The sponge glides over my skin, his fingers brushing against my collarbone, down to my shoulders, and I lean into his touch, reveling in the way he cares for me.

As Johnny gently washes my body, I can’t help but feel vulnerable, completely exposed in the warm water. I’m naked, my skin glistening with droplets as he moves the sponge over my curves, and a mix of embarrassment and unease floods me. I’ve never been one to embrace my body, always feeling awkward and out of place in my own skin.

His hands glide over my arms and shoulders, and I can’t shake the awareness of my figure—the way my breasts sag under their own weight, the way my curves flow into rolls that I’ve always been self-conscious about. My thighs, thicker than most,press against his strong legs, and I wonder if he notices the way my body doesn’t fit the mold of what’s deemed perfect.

Despite my insecurities, there’s something incredibly intimate about this moment. Johnny’s hands are gentle, and as he moves the sponge across my skin, I catch glimpses of admiration in his eyes. It’s as if he’s cherishing every inch of me, and for the first time, I wonder if maybe my body isn’t so terrible after all.

But self-doubt creeps in. I think about how I’ve always wished to be slimmer, to have a flatter stomach and perky breasts like the girls I see in magazines. The thought of being judged, of him seeing me as less than perfect, makes my cheeks flush. I want to shrink away from him, to hide, but there’s a part of me that craves this attention, this care.

Suddenly, his voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts, low and steady, like a balm. “Stop that, snowflake.” He catches my gaze, his eyes piercing into mine, filled with an intensity that leaves me breathless. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Every curve, every roll, every fucking so-called imperfection only makes you more perfect in my eyes.”

His words wrap around me like a warm blanket, soothing the tight knots of insecurity within. I look into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception, but all I see is sincerity—a deep, unwavering affection that both frightens and excites me. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not ever. You’re mine now, and if I want to seeallof you, you’re going to fucking let me.”

His hands move to my waist, fingers lingering gently on the soft flesh, and I feel my body respond to his touch, igniting a flicker of confidence within. For the first time, I allow myself to think that perhaps my body, in all its imperfect glory, is worthy of love and tenderness.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” I think, a small smile creeping onto my lips as I lean back against him, surrenderingto the warmth of the moment. Maybe, just maybe, I can start to accept myself as I am, flaws and all, especially if he sees beauty in me that I can’t yet recognize in myself.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, almost as if he knows how much I need this moment to ground myself. I can feel myself softening under his touch, the gentle caress of the sponge and the warmth of the water.

As he washes my back, the sponge kneads the tension from my muscles. I can’t help but melt into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips. “You have no idea how good this feels,” I whisper.

“Is that right?” he teases, his breath warm against my ear. “Good.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, as if taking care of me brings him genuine joy.

Johnny moves with an ease that makes me feel cherished, and I can’t help but admire how he focuses on every little detail. When he moves to my arms, I can see the tattoos along his biceps, the intricate designs capturing the dim candlelight. I let my fingers brush against his skin, and he shivers at my touch.

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