“I need your cock! Please!” It’s almost a scream, and I can hear my words echo through the forest.
His smile twists into something menacing. “No.” Leaningon his elbow, he leaves my breasts and circles my neck once more, using his thumb to tip my head to the side.
“No, bratty little sluts don’t get fucked. They have to ride my dick and show me what a little monster whore they are.” Grabbing my leg, he wraps it around his waist so that I have even better access to his hardness.
The next words he speaks against my neck, right where my shoulder meets the mask. “Be my little whore, Ada, and maybe next time I’ll give you what you want.”
With that, he bites down on my shoulder, flooding me with pain and pleasure. I tense, my orgasm shattering me. I can do nothing but ride the wave and press my clit into the length I wish was filling me. Screams echo through the forest. My own. I don’t have a name I can call out, so it’s just all vowels and moans. My shoulder aches in the most luscious way, like a well-fucked pussy.
“Good girl.”
As my orgasm subsides, I blink, staring up at him, or rather, at his mask. With a hesitant hand, I reach up. I want to know what he looks like, but the second I touch it, he’s ripped from me, and I wake.
Alone.
I’m gasping in the darkness, and the panic of yesterday seeps in. Suddenly I’m remembering how alone I am, how confused, and how none of that was real.
Reality asserts itself with painful speed. The bins of decorations, my fears, it all combines to a crushing realization that I may not, in fact, be getting out of bed today.
“I am safe. I am in my home. I am safe.” I whisper into the dim morning light. Perhaps it’s a desperate attempt to make it true, but instead it only reminds me of the worst truth of all.
My home no longer feels safe.
CHAPTER
TEN
Ican still taste her blood in my mouth. Hot and coppery and strangely sweet. Feel the way her flesh gave under my teeth in a forceful, wet surge, mimicking the way her needy cunt wanted to take me inside her. Gods, the way she moaned as she came.
A low groan escapes me, and I have to grip the ladder to keep myself upright as all the blood in my body rushes to my dick.
Focus!
I’d be able to recover from falling to the snow-covered ground in front of the cabin, but I’m right in front of the window where she sleeps. There’s no way she wouldn’t hear a 7-foot-tall monster crashing to the ground, even if she is a heavy sleeper.
I can’t help imagining her there now, enjoying some rare dreamless sleep. Is she sprawled across the bed, her dark locks flowing across her crisp white pillowcase like ink, her pale limbs peeking out from under a tangle of covers? It’d be so easy to lift them off and take in every inch of her luscious body since she sleeps naked. So easy to climb in next to her and see if she’s as soft and pliant in reality as in her dreams.
I grip my swollen length over my jeans and let out aragged exhale as I force the obscene fantasy away. It doesn’t even make any sense, since she sleeps cocooned up in that strange claustrophobic blanket. And I’d never take advantage of her vulnerable state like that, even if she makes me do it over and over in her nightmares.
My cock softens as snowflakes dance in front of my eyes, blowing away my runaway imagination. Now is not the time to get turned on. She could shift into a nightmare at any moment, and I’m only halfway through the tubs of lights. A half-lit house seems even worse than one not lit at all.
The sensation of sweat beading at my temples and the base of my neck despite the cold is strange, and the burn in my legs as I climb up and down the ladder even stranger. In dreams, I feel things, but it’s not the same. Every moment I spend in the mortal, waking world, existing in a set state and using my body, feels weightier. It’s unnatural. A warning sign telling me I shouldn’t be here. But what are my other options?
Wait around in my own realm for her to figure out how to be happy on her own?
A humorless chuckle escapes me at the concept of this isolated, traumatized woman somehow figuring out how to not be miserable when she works nonstop to avoid dealing with her problems and has put off finding a therapist for almost a year. Her only source of lightness in her life is her ancient dog, who is sweet but sleeps most of the time.
No, she needs help.
She needsme.
Gods, we’re both completely fucked.
She needs cheering up, but how the hell am I going to go from being a nightmare who chases her through the woods to someone she associates with anything cheerful? Calling her a slut and biting her as she dry humps me until she comes is better than what was happening before, but it’s a far cry from the peace and joy of the season.
How do I go from beingKrampus to her secret Santa? She’s never been anything but good. She deserves presents and candy, not punishment.
Though now I’m imagining how her skin would look if I flogged her. I bet she’d let out those breathy little gasps and moans that make my mind go hazy. Would it make her wet? Would she allow me to fuck her, even as I brought her pain?
