Page 25 of Yule Tied Up

The thought fills me with dread.

Tino roars at him. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her.”

I doubt he can tell if I’m faking. Most men can’t, but I’m terrified to risk it. I need to come, but like this? I try to block everything out. The way the snow is still falling and chilling my bare thighs. The man dressed as Santa, holding a shotgun. The dismay of the three men I love. It’s just me and Frosty. I take myself back to the cabin, when I was with the guys and the cucumber, and put myself mentally there instead.

My thighs tremble as I lift myself up and down on the thick carrot. I hold it in place with one hand as I bounce and rub my clit with the other. I don’t care that I’m wearing gloves, or that they’ll be covered in cum and my juices. It’s the least of my concerns. I rub up against the material, appreciating the warmth, and fuck the carrot nose at exactly the right pace I need.

I’ve already climaxed so much today, and, considering the circumstances, I’m sure another orgasm is near impossible. But it might be what helps me. My flesh is so sensitized and so primed that this feels … not terrible. I close my eyes and run a reel of all my favorite filthy moments with my men through my mind, and it starts to work. I pant hot clouds of air, my core tingles and tightens, and my breathing grows ever more ragged. My clit is so sensitive, it doesn’t take much.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp. “Oh, God.”

My climax powers over me, and I fold in two, my pussy clamping tight around the ice-cold carrot inside me. Wetness gushes around its length. Fuck, did I just squirt? Or was it simply a mixture of all the cum still left inside of me and my own arousal?

I fall back, my bare ass hitting the snow. I scramble for my pajama pants, eager to cover myself up again. I can barely look at poor, desecrated Mr. Frosty, his nose now sitting at an angle and glistening wet.

Santa strides forward, picks up the carrot, and bites off the end.

He grins. “Better than milk and cookies any day.”

Fucking freak.

I take small satisfaction that he’s tasting the guys’ cum as well as me, but who knows, maybe he likes that.

CHAPTER 12

Dom

The rage buildinginside me is incandescent. I’ll kill this piece of shit slowly and painfully. I’ll cut his balls off, fry them up, and make him eat them.

Mack is red-faced and ashamed. She shouldn’t be. She just saved our lives, and that freak is eating the fucking carrot. He moans around it and licks it, clearly getting off on eating her juices. That’s when his other arm drops slightly, the gun lowering enough that I take the risk.

I don’t have time to think, not really. My body just reacts. I run at him, hitting him hard and taking him to the snowy ground.

He makes a choking sound and drops the gun under him as I pin him down. I hope he’s got that fucking carrot wedged down his throat, the sick freak.

Tino reaches for the gun, but an ear-splitting boom has us all freezing in place.

“Now, now, now, boys,” a strange male voice growls. “Better get off my brother, here.”

I raise my head, rage and fear vying for control, and turn to find a second man, who has a gun aimed right at Mack’s head. Her eyes are wide, and it’s the first time I’ve seen real terror inher gaze. I can’t bear that, because if she has a bad seizure from the stress while out here, she’s too far from medical help.

I stand with my hands up to show I’m not a threat and clench my jaw. I recognize the asshole with a gun to her head. “You?”

“Yeah, me. Think I didn’t notice that little show you sick freaks were putting on in the back of my wagon?”

It’s the horse and wagon driver.

He hasn’t finished. “Think you can come here and disrespect our community that way? Think we’re just a backdrop for your sick games? Huh?”

I shake my head. They are clearly insane and can’t be reasoned with, but I still try.

“We’re sorry,” I say. “You’ve taught us a lesson, so how about we all go on our way now? It can end here. We will leave, and we won’t come back.”

He laughs. “Well, see, we could do that, but I think you were about to kill my brother, so how about … no.”

The cocking of the shotgun beside me and the cold press of metal against my cheek has me going deadly still.

“Why don’t we all get inside where it’s warmer?” He gestures toward the cabin with his free hand.

---