Page 11 of Krampus Kruk
“I haven’t forgotten about the spankings,Tinsel,” he grumbles, pulling my sweater over my head and throwing it across the room.
8
As I unbutton her jeans, she lifts her hips, and I tug them off. This girl is full of fucking surprises. Another tattoo—this one black, bold, and in the shape of a scorpion—sits high on her inner right thigh. The other ones fit her age. This one … there’s a story there, a deeper meaning.
I lean down, wrapping my arms around her thighs. As I press my lips to the tattoo, I feel ridges on her skin.Scars?
My mind flashes to my son’s wrist, what he did to himself, the tattoo he got after to cover it.What happened to this girl?She said she’s used a couple of lives already. That comment no longer seems flippant.
I flick my eyes up. She’s enjoying this moment, her lids closed and her head tilted back.This is just one night,I remind myself. She doesn’t want to know my name. She’s only here for fun. I push down the mounting questions and my growing intrigue. I don’t need to know. I shouldn’t fucking care. I kiss up her stomach, my lips brushing her pale skin until I’m hovering over her mouth.
“Three spankings, four orgasms ... and you’ll be begging to suck my cock,” I taunt.
“Keep dreaming.”
I grab her hips and flip her over.
“A fucking dagger,” I exhale, catching sight of the ink running down her spine. “Maybeyouwere the scariest one at the bar.” I chuckle, dragging my hand down the blade etched along her vertebrae as she positions herself on all fours. “I like this one.” I admire the line work as more questions mount in my mind about her. “The tinselreallyfooled me.”
She giggles as I press her into the couch, pulling down her underwear just enough so her ass is bare. “This is a fucking ass, Tinsel,” I say, admiring it. “Medium.” I refocus on the spankings. “For your mouth.” I squeeze her cheek. “We both know you’re getting off easy for this one.” I swat her firmly, and she whimpers. I hear the sex in it. She likes it, and I smirk. “Next one, hard. For getting in a car with a stranger.” I smack her cheek, her body shuddering, but she doesn’t make a sound. I bite my lip, deciding to go for it. “Last one, even harder.” She whimpers in protest. “Yes, baby girl. What do you think this last spanking is for?” She doesn’t immediately respond. “You know why. Say it.” I pull her underwear all the way off, dropping it to the floor.
“For being a naughty girl.”
I swat, hard enough to know she will be bruised. She yelps, and I collect her, holding her tight into a hug. She turns in my arms, her legs looping around my waist, her head resting against my t-shirt. As I hold her, she melts into me. Relaxed. Not rushing. Just being here.
Tinsel with a dagger tattoo down her spine and scars on her thighs … It’s been years—no, decades—since someone’s crawled this deep under my skin in such a short time.
“Imperfect,” I whisper.
Her head lifts from my shoulder, brows pinching, but I cradle her face and brush my thumb over her bottom lip. “I don’t see you that way,” I breathe, and her eyes soften in response.
I kiss her. It starts slow—curious, maybe even tender—but it deepens as her tongue slides against mine.
She pulls back with a quiet laugh. “Now you kiss me?”
“It looked like you needed it.”
“I did. Probably more than the spankings.”
I hum, disagreeing. “You should get rid of that tattoo.”
She stiffens slightly. “You think you can boss me around?”
“Iambossing you around,” I whisper.
“Just because you’ve spanked me doesn’t give you control over my life.”
“Want another one?” I raise an eyebrow, amused.
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling, so I lean in and kiss her again.
“Getting spanked by Santa,” she says with a light laugh, trailing off. “Did not see that one coming.”
Most people are scared of me, yet here’s this girl razzing me, calling me Santa. I’m not jolly, not a fat old bastard. No—if anything, I’m the fucking devil of Christmas.
“More like Krampus,” I say, my grandfather’s stories flashing through my mind—the creature that came for the naughty ones.
“Krampus?”
