Page 27 of Whiteout

My body listens to his command, and I give in to the pleasure. My orgasm crashes over me, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through my body to my core. I cry out, my nails digging into the frozen ground beneath me, leaving crescent-shaped marks in the earth. My body is his to command, I’m unable to do anything but surrender to him. My inner walls clench and tighten around him, refusing to let go.

"I'm not gonna last," Kris grunts, his breath catching as he teeters on the edge of his own release. "I'm gonna fill you up, Cherry. Gonna mark you as mine." I want to tell him that he already owns me, that my body is his to do withas he pleases. Then, with a few more thrusts, his body tenses as he follows me over the edge. “Fuck, that’s it, take it,” he grits out, his release flooding into me.

Kris collapses on top of me, his body covering mine possessively. I can feel his heart pounding against my back, his warm breath ragged in my ear.

I can't speak, my body still throbbing with the aftershocks of my orgasm. The cold ground beneath me is forgotten, my entire being focused on the connection between our bodies. We stay like that for a moment, catching our breath, our bodies still connected. I feel boneless, sated and thoroughly fucked, but I still ache for more. More of this, more of him, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop now that I’ve experienced Kris Kincaid.

He eventually pulls out of me, and I feel his release start to leak out of me. He presses a soft kiss to my neck, while using his fingers to gather it and push it back inside of me.

"Come on, let's get you back to the cabin. You have to be freezing." He helps me up, his arms wrapping around me possessively. I lean back against him, still feeling dazed by the intensity of what we just shared.

I take a step forward, and pain shoots up my leg, causing me to stumble. I've forgotten about my injured ankle in the midst of everything that just happened.

Kris grabs my arm, steadying me. "What's wrong?"

"I tripped when I was running earlier. With all the snow, I couldn't see what I tripped over. I think it's just a sprain."

"Let's get you back to the cabin. We'll get some ice on that ankle."

As we make our way back through the snow-covered forest, I lean on him more than I'd like to admit. The pain in my ankle is sharp, and I can't put much weight on it. Kris doesn't seem to mind, though, and he supports me easily, his arm wrapped securely around my waist.

Back at the cabin, Kris helps me inside and sits me down on the couch. He grabs a first aid kit and begins carefully wrapping my ankle.

"Kris, will you tell me more about the Huntsman? I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. "How did it all begin? Why would your family start something like this?"

Kris pauses for a moment, his hands stilling on my ankle. "It goes back generations. My great-great-grandfather was the original Huntsman. He had a need to kill, to punish. He enjoyed the hunt, and he found an outlet for his urges. It was in his blood, just like it's in mine."

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, and he continues. "The first time he killed was on Christmas Eve. It doesn't take long in a small town for the locals to start telling stories andspreading rumors. And so, the Huntsman lore began. It also served as a way to cover up his... extracurricular activities. They made him into a mythical figure, a warning to keep everyone in line. But the truth is he was just a man with a darkness inside he couldn't contain."

I wince as Kris finishes wrapping my ankle. The pain is throbbing, but it's already starting to feel better. I shift my position on the couch, and Kris places an ice pack on my ankle.

"Better?" He asks and the genuine concern he has for me is obvious.

"Yeah, thank you. I think it's fine, I'll just be sore for a few days." Needing to know more I ask, "And your family... they all had the same urges?"

He meets my eyes and nods. "When he noticed the same tendencies and urges in his son, he passed on his knowledge and the Huntsman identity. It's been passed down through every generation ever since."

"So, the Huntsman of Hemlock Hollow is very much real. And I'm his latest prey."

"Prey, plaything, lover... You can call it whatever you want, but that's not fucking happening. My brother isn't getting his hands on you. I've made it clear to him you're mine and nothing willchange that. "

"This is a lot to take in."

He smiles, his eyes softening a little. "I know. It's a lot."

"So, what now?"

"For now, you need rest and to let that ankle heal. Anything else we can figure out later."

Chapter 13

Kris

I watch Ivy from the corner of my eye as she takes in the sight of Hemlock Hollow all decked out for Christmas Eve.

"Everything looks amazing. I've never seen so many Christmas lights in one place before." Ivy's voice is filled with awe.

I love her innocence. I love that I'm the monster that gets to strip it all away even more. Piece by little fucking piece.

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