Page 63 of Slaying for Santa
I shove his hand away so I can speak.
“We argue, Kitty Kat. A lot. That’s hardly compatible.”
He chuckles. “Actually, I think it makes us more compatible.” He shuffles closer, reaching out to grip my hips,and a second later, he lifts me to straddle his lap, bringing us face to face. “Life would be boring if all we did was get along.”
“Tillie…” I breathe as his fingers weave into my hair.
“Is fine with it.”
My brows hitch. “You told her?”
“Fuck yeah, I did. She even lectured me for a full half an hour over the phone about disowning me if I break your heart.”
“She did?” I whisper, feeling those raw fucking emotions again.
I figured I’d be the one who got lectured. Or cast aside. I’m not her blood. She owes me nothing, and I’ve probably brought Tillie more heartache than happiness over the years. I was sure she’d think I wasn’t good enough for her brother.
“She did. Have you been teaching her about your serial killer ways?” he smirks teasingly. “I actually believed her when she said she’d chop my nuts from my body and grind them up in a blender.”
A laugh bubbles from my lips, and the worry I’d been feeling starts to recede.
“That does sound like something I’d say.”
He nods. “Exactly. So, you know how much I love my nuts. I’m not about to risk them on just anyone.”
My gaze falls to his lips as the overwhelming urge to kiss him again starts to consume me.
“You’d risk your old man balls for me?”
“A thousand times over,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “And they arenotfucking old man balls. I’m only thirty.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “Like I said, old man?—”
Before I know what’s happening, he growls and steers my head with his tight grip in my hair, smashing his lips into mine.
The moment our tongues brush again, I melt. I feel like putty in his hands. Completely and willingly at his mercy, andI realise there’s no other drug on this Earth that can make me feel like this.
Kitson Hall is it. My kryptonite. My addiction.
We moan into each other’s mouths as I roll my hips, feeling his hard length bulging under the fabric of his shorts, right against the damp part of my panties.
“Fuck, Bellicent.” Kit breathes against my lips, not willing to pull back completely. “The images those lips conjure in my head. I fucking love kissing you.”
I can’t help but deepen the kiss at his words, feeling like I’m more than I’ve ever been to anyone in these moments we share.
It’s almost overwhelming, and before I realise what I’m doing, I pull back and slap his face.
His eyes flare and he hisses, fisting my hair tighter.
“You want to hurt?” he seethes, and I nod, desperate to feel him unleash his beast.
“Remind me why we are as compatible as you say we are,” I sneer, and those kissable lips of his kick up at the corners.
“Did they touch you?” he snaps, and I quickly shake my head, knowing that he wants to know if they raped me, and his shoulders drop in relief.
I don’t bother telling him about the blowie I gave Snake on the way to his house. I was playing a role. It was a necessity in order to find Libi, and some things, Kit just doesn’t need to know.
“Fuck. That’s good.” He smiles, running his hands over my hair like I’m precious, and shit. I don’t think I’ve ever been precious to anyone.
