Page 12 of Krampus Kruk
“You’ve never heard of him?” I chuckle, and she shakes her head.
I drag my hands down her back, across the tattoo. My eyes are locked on hers—big, brown, impossible to look away from. This girl … Beautiful. Bratty.
“He punishes the naughty kids,” I say, dropping my voice an octave.
She lets out a genuine laugh. “Okay,Daddy Krampus.”
I cup her face in my hands. “What am I going to do with this fucking mouth?”
She bites her bottom lip, and I kiss her again, deeper this time. My hands roam her body, ending on that perfect ass.
“You’re too comfortable with me,” I whisper between kisses. “Making me think you want more than what you’ve said.”
“Tonight is a quickie, nothing more.”
I cock my head. It’s been a while since I had a quickie with a stranger. “If you just wanted a quickie, I would have bent you over in the bar bathroom.”
She tries to hold her expression, but the corner of her mouth lifts. “I’m not going to complain about four orgasms … and I’m not going to suck your cock.”
9
He bites my lip, hard enough that I whimper. “You can choke me,” I say when he releases it. “But nothing rougher than that and spankings.”
“I don’t want to be rough with you, but it seems to be the only way to tame you.”
Tame.What a word.
Outside, the wind rattles the windows with a howl that could almost be a roar. I’d planned on telling him to take me back after we were done hooking up, but staying the night no longer seems like a bad idea. I mean, it’s snowing. Thinking about what’s ahead, I shiver, both nervous and eager.
I flinch as his hands move up my legs. “Sorry, I haven’t shaved in a few days.”
“Only boys care about that shit.” His lips move down to my chest, and his hand pulls down the cup of my bra. He slowly flicks his tongue over my nipple, and I tilt my head back, giving in to the pleasure and what’s ahead. The air between us is electric.
He unclasps my bra and moves with purpose, licking, kissing, gently nipping at both breasts. I’m not complaining, butno one’s ever spent so much time on my chest. A weird self-consciousness flares up as I straddle him again.
“So … about those orgasms …”
He glances up. “I can’t worship you?”
Worship.I’ve never been worshiped.
Before I can respond, he growls, “Baby girl,” and flips me, shoving me back against the couch. He hovers above me, eyes burning. Then, he leans in, sticks his tongue out, dragging it slowly up my chin. It’s unexpected—and I love it.
I reach for the hem of his black T-shirt, tugging. “Take this off,” I whisper.
“I tell you what to do, not the other way around,” he says firmly.
I push my bottom lip out, pouting, very curious about what’s going on under that t-shirt.
“That pout is too fucking cute. No more talking. You don’t say a word until I tell you to … unless …” He pauses, and mischief spreads across his face. “Unless you don’t want to come.”
I almost scoff. “I want to come.”
“Then submit.”
Submit.That’s the whole point of this—him. I don’t want to think. I stare up at him, taking one deep breath in before exhaling slowly. I don’t say another word.
“Good girl,” he mouths. I like that he barely says it. It’s hotter like that. He sticks his tongue all the way out, folding it into a clover-like shape before he’s on his stomach, his face between my legs. I moan on impact.
