Page 35 of Krampus Kruk
“You are incredible,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her hair. “Now, go to sleep.”
I kiss the back of her head again and again. My lips can’t seem to stay away. Every touch brings back a memory from tonight. I should be exhausted, but I’m wired, buzzing from the energy of something new, something I didn’t expect.
I’ve been looking for someone who can take me—all of me. Someone who doesn’t flinch at the rough parts but leans into them. Someone who gives it back, who can laugh and sass and beg and still surprise me.
And then, this girl in a tacky Christmas sweater had to walk into my bar on Christmas Eve. Now, my world feels turned upside down in the best way.
She lets out a soft snore, and I smile into her hair.
This girl’s stamina is almost more impressive than her mouth. Seven times, I count. Four on the couch. Once in the shower. Twice on my cock.
Seven’s always been my lucky number.
We still haven’t exchanged names, although I know hers.
I pull her in tighter. “Good night, baby girl,” I whisper, closing my eyes.
I’ll sleep on what to get Morgan for Christmas, something better than a drink and orgasms.
29
Thursday, December 25th
Iwake to the feeling of lips on my neck. I hum, eyes still closed, soaking in the warm, persistent tingles. I feel perfect right now, happy I slept over, and I’m not allowing myself to think about what will happen when I get home, the shit storm I’ll be walking into.
“Hi,” I whisper, smiling as I open my eyes—only to find him kissing and licking the curve of my neck.
He rolls on top of me, pinning my hands to the bed. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
Saying it now, without the sex clouding my mind, still feels right.
He hums. “What should I get you for Christmas?”
“Well, I was on the naughty list, so … I think that means coal for me.”
He chuckles, pressing kisses along my collarbone.
“For Christmas, you get my number,” I say, smiling from ear to ear, excited to see him again.
“I like that present.” He kisses me deep. “I think I’ll save you as Mouthy Morgan.”
My smile falters. Wait—I never told him my name. Did I hear that right?How the fuck does he know my name?My body goes still beneath him—and his expression shifts. He presses his lips together and sits back on his knees.
“Baby, I?—”
“What the fuck?” I yank the blankets up to my chest. I don’t feel safe anymore. He reaches for my arm, but I pull back, scrambling upright. “Tell me! Right now!”
He hesitates, his eyes flicking between mine like he’s trying to read me. “My friend went through your purse. And your car. Back at the bar.”
I blink, then blink again. “Why?” My voice pitches into a yell.
“Because pretty girls don’t walk into my bar alone,” he says, his hand twitching like he wants to grab for mine, but then he pulls back. “And with my past ... I have to be cautious.”
This was supposed to be the perfect hookup. Two strangers, no names, just a night of fun. Now, I feel violated.
He sighs. “People have tried lots of ways to get information from me or kill me, so I had to check you out to make sure your intentions were pure.”
