Page 46 of Slaying for Santa
I instantly think of Kit, and how we kissed. It was anything but repulsive. I actually liked it, and a flutter of longing washes over me.
Kit.
I miss him. I miss being near him. I miss having his eyes on me. I miss hearing him call me Belladonna for Christ’s sake. And I really miss riling him up.
Snake doesn’t take my turn of head as rejection, his lips trailing down my neck as he palms my breast and gives it a painful squeeze.
I like pain. I usually get so turned on by it, which makestimes like this more tolerable, but right now, the pain brings me zero pleasure, and for a moment, I stop breathing.
Normally the pain is how I get through these events, forcing myself to get turned on… but shit. I’m as dry as a desert between my legs.
Am I broken?
Kit.
The moment Snake shifts back, fumbling for his fly while shoving my head towards his lap, I stop questioning these weird feelings I’m having and focus on the task at hand.
Right now, that’s a blowie.
This is what I do. I seduce. Let them think I care or am attracted to them. Give them the attention they crave so they let down their guard. And then, I strike.
I don’t particularly like this part, but I have to use what I have, and that’s a set of tits and a plump set of lips that most men can’t help but imagine fucking.
I endure his foul semi hard foreskinned dick surging between my lips as I start sucking him off, and for the first time ever, I feel like… I’m cheating.
Wait, what?
Cheating? That would imply I have a boyfriend or something. Which I don’t.
Kit’s blue eyes flash through my mind. The intensity in them as he told me he was going to tell Tillie that we are a thing… or something.
I’m so confused. Did I agree to that?
I don’t think I did, but all I wish right now is to be back in that room arguing with him about it. Perhaps letting things get a little heated, and we’d end up without any clothes.
I can’t help but think of Kit’s bendy dick and how it made me gag so damn good last night.
This dick currently in my mouth is gross, and notcompletely hard and just… well, now I’m fighting a gag, and not because he has a bendy dick that hits my reflexes.
Since I know gagging turns guys on more, I fake a gag, and just like I knew it would, it spurs him on, making him thrust faster. It’s not only fast but also brutal, and I can tell he’s trying to hurt me as his fingers fist into the back of my hair as he holds my head in place.
“Fuck yes. You slut. Gag on my huge cock.”
I do gag, and it’s not fake, and it’s not because he hits the spot, or because his dick is huge… that fucking thing is smaller than a brush handle.
I gag because he really is that repulsive.
I can hardly believe my reaction, and I consider that Kit has finally broken me completely. I’d much rather be thinking about him, but this vile prick fucking my mouth starts to hammer into my throat, and I know what’s coming.
Another gag, this one fake, and he goes rigid as hot jets of cum shoot into my mouth.
I cringe at the acidic taste, gagging for real again, and I refuse to swallow a single drop of this rancid seed, so I let it coat his dick, trying to keep more on him than in my mouth.
It’s then that I notice the car slowing to a stop, and the moment he releases my hair, I jerk up with a gasp, seeing we are parked in a dingy double garage.
Well played, Mr Abraham. You distracted me on purpose. Now I have no fucking clue where I am.
“Where are we?” I pant, my voice hoarse from having my throat brutally fucked moments ago.
