Page 24 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
“Oh, wait!” Sari suddenly exclaims, jogging to the kitchen. He comes back with a red velvet cake on a plate. It has a couple of skeleton sugar figures on top and what looks like a little brown bear.
“They didn’t have a Krampus sugar doll. The bear was the closest thing to it,” Sari clarifies. “I painted some blood and fangs on him though.”
I squint at it, and yeah, there they are. Perfectly drawn on the tiny, hairy face.
“I thought we could leave a slice for Krampus, as an offering,” Sari adds.
“Well done, Angel.” His beaming smile is contagious. He’s the fucking best.
All the bros love sweets. It’s kind of a family tradition. A tradition Meg started and that now they don’t follow as much anymore.
Sari and Ollie cut and distribute the cake, leaving the piece with the bear figure on the altar. We are eating around the kitchen counter since Gabe and I don’t have a table in here.
“This beauty is foodporn. I think I just cheated on you,” I tell Bez, moaning around a bite.
“The fuck you did.” He frowns at me, but he’s already finished his. His plate is empty.
“Give me that cake,” Gabe orders me, attempting to grab my plate.
I slide it away from him. “Back off! This is mine.”
“What if I tell you, you can have at it from a more delicious…surface?” Gabe quirks a brow at me in challenge. We haven’t tried food play yet. It sounds fun and hot.
“Sitophilia describes sexual arousal involving food. It is arguably the most socially acceptable type of paraphilia,” Sari declares with an enthusiastic nod.
“You can suck the cake off my dick,” Bez feels the need to crassly say as he hoists me up, legs around his waist. I wrap my hand around his nape, while the other keeps a tight grasp on the cake plate.
“And we are leaving,” Ollie states, grabbing his things, and the Santa costume as well. “We’ll borrow this.”
Rague lets out a deep growl—his turned-on growl. I’ve heard it many times before since they like to canoodle…anywhere. Not that I’m any different with my fiancés.
I still scrunch up my nose at my bestie. “Keep it!” I call over my shoulder as Bez carries me toward the bedroom. “Thank you for your help with step one and two ofmygrovelingplan!” I finish hurriedly.
“You’re welcome,” Sari is the only one to reply as I hear the click of the front door closing.
Wednesday continues peering at me. It unsettles me a little.
I still feel her empty gaze on me when Bez closes the bedroom door behind us.
six
The art of stalking
A couple of hours later, I’m on the sofa, head on Gabe’s bare chest, arm back, fingers running through the soft hair on his nape, sated body snuggling against his. I feel like a cat purring all over his owner. And Gabe did own my arse tonight, very thoroughly with Bez’s help.
A bowl of caramel popcorn is half full on the coffee table, and the flames in the fireplace are slowly dancing. My eyes are on Wednesday, still perching on her roost. She hasn’t moved for a long time, which is not like her. And that leery look is still there in her red eyes.
A scream comes from the TV as Gabe says, “Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”
“Uhm?”
“Your hen is wearing horns and you decorated our living room with chains and leather cords.” He points at them hanging from the ceiling.
“I wanted Krampus to feel at home. I’m trying to get on his good side.” If he even has one. “He needs toun-jinxme.”
“Krampus doesn't jinx, he punishes naughty kids,” Gabe annoyingly states.
“Hello! Naughty kid here!” I wave at my body covered only in furry shorts. “Stop being so pedantic for once!”
