Page 64 of Slaying for Santa
Always the one they want to fuck. Never the one they want to keep.
But Kit wants me. More than just to fuck, otherwise telling Tillie wouldn’t have been necessary.
“I want to punish you, Bell. So fucking much, but first, open your gift from Santa.”
I snicker, biting my lip as I ease back from him, my fingers already gripping the gold and black Christmas paper so tightly that I’ve made a hole in the wrapping.
Both of us cast our eyes to the gift, and I tear at it, eager to see what Kit got me.
The moment the paper is free, a laugh bubbles from my lips as I hold up the open mouth gag between us.
“Oh Santa. This is the best pressie I’ve ever gotten,” I say dramatically, grinning at Kit, and he winks.
“Told you it was for both of us.”
It’s like he sees directly into my dirty soul, and I can’t help but scoot forward and grind on his lap again.
“If you’re going to punish me, get to it, Santa. Or I’ll find a Grinch to do it instead.”
His growl is deep as he stares at me.
“I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want, but tonight, no fucking breath play. Your seizure scared the fuck outta me. I want you present and conscious through every bit of it.”
I nod, feeling my cheeks flame at the reminder that not only did I have a seizure, but I puked. I don’t remember any of it, but Colt filled me in on all the gory details when I asked him for the truth of what happened after I blacked out at the Serpent house.
I have no recollection of a number of hours afterwards when apparently Doc hooked me up to an IV and flushed my system, while also running bloodwork to see what the Serpent king had injected in my veins.
Cocaine, like I thought, laced with Fentanyl.
I nod willingly at Kit, not quite having the usual urge to chase the high of walking the line of death. I don’t remember ever feeling like that. I’ve always been somewhat self-destructive after the day I killed my own father and thenfound my mother dead, and the day I attempted to take my life once when I was sixteen. But since then, I found a way to chase pleasure while seeking possible death, and now, the thought terrifies me.
“Is that a deal breaker?” Kit’s words have me blinking, and I realise I zoned out.
“What?”
“No breath play tonight. Is that a deal breaker?”
“Oh… uhhh, no. That’s not a deal breaker.”
His blue gaze is analysing as he studies my expression, his big hands coming up to cup my jaw.
“You know you don’t have to be strong all the time, right? I know I’ve been a prick to you for most of the time we’ve known each other, but I now know it’s because I was fucking scared and confused by the way I felt around you. Fuck, just take a look at Rhonda. That stupid bitch is an ugly version of you. Just too short, too fucking selfish, and fucking coo-coo.”
A laugh bursts from me. “You do know who you’re talking to, right? You read my files, for Christ’s sake. If anyone is coo-coo, it’s me.”
“Yeah-nah, fuck that.” Kit grips my hips and flips us, my back slamming to the mattress as he grinds his hard cock between my legs. “You were a prisoner in your own home. Your dad was your mum’s dad, for fuck’s sake. He raped her daily. Beat her. Beat you. Kept you both isolated from the fucking world.” He brushes some of my wayward dark strands back off my forehead, and I wrap my legs around his waist, loving the way he sets me alight, even as we discuss something so fucking heavy.
“I still killed him.”
His lips spread wide.
“Yeah, you fucking did, Belladonna.”
I roll my eyes, the name not stinging as much as usual, asI let myself feel his praise. I’ve never felt proud of what I did, but it was necessary for my survival.
Kit’s blue gaze is intense as he studies me, like he’s seeing something for the first time, and then, he leans down, nipping at my lips.
“You killed him by growing Belladonna in the veggie patch and poisoning him. He didn’t even fucking question what the seeds were for when you gave him the shopping list. That dumb fuck deserved to die, and the fact he had a hand in his own death is even fucking better. But don’t you call yourself coo-coo for coming out the other side with battle scars, Bell.” He runs his fingers down over my neck and chest where my tattoos cover the evidence of my childhood. “They may have played a part in the person you’ve had to become. But they don’t define you.”
