I smiled against her neck, teeth grazing the marks I'd left there previously. "I am touching you."
She strained against the vines, body arching toward me in wordless supplication. "More," she breathed. "Inside. Please."
Her begging sent heat surging through me, my cock hardening painfully against my tailored slacks. But this moment wasn't about my pleasure, it was about breaking through that final wall of resistance, forcing her to acknowledge what she truly wanted.
"Look at me," I ordered, fingers poised at her entrance but not advancing. "Say my name. Let me hear you beg for it."
Her eyes met mine, pupils blown wide. Her lips parted, hesitated, then finally surrendered.
"Krampus," she whispered. "Please, Krampus."
"Good girl," I growled, I rewarded her immediately, driving two fingers into the slick heat of her, the tightness welcoming me with a gasp I wanted to bottle and keep forever.
The sensation was exquisite, hot, slick, tight around my intrusion. She gasped, head falling back against the glass with a soft thud, eyes fluttering closed as pleasure overwhelmed her. I established a slow rhythm, curling my fingers to find the spot that made her thighs shake and her breathing stutter. I captured her mouth with mine, swallowing her moans before they could alert anyone outside our green sanctuary. The taste of her was addictive, my tongue invaded her mouth with the same deliberate rhythm as my fingers between her thighs, claiming, possessing.
With my free hand, I tugged at the ribbons lacing the front of her dress, undoing them quickly. The bodice parted, revealing the simple cotton bra beneath, practical, unadorned, completely at odds with the lacy fantasies most would expect from someonewho dressed in pink confections. The contradiction delighted me. So many layers to this woman, each one more interesting than the last. I pulled down the fabric, freeing her breasts to the humid greenhouse air. They were perfect, full and soft, nipples pebbled with arousal. I leaned down, mouth closing over one peaked bud while my fingers continued their relentless assault between her thighs. The combined sensation drew a strangled cry from her, quickly muffled as she bit her lip.
"Don't hold back," I murmured against her skin. "Let me hear you."
She made a strangled sound, somewhere between a sob and a whimper. I doubled my efforts, thumb circling her clit while my tongue flicked mercilessly at her nipple. The greenhouse plants rustled in response to her increasing arousal, vines tightening slightly around her wrists, leaves turning toward us like an audience. A drop of condensation fell from overhead, landing on her collarbone and tracking down to pool in the valley between her breasts. I followed its path with my tongue, tasting the slightly mineral flavor of the greenhouse water mixed with the salt of her skin.
Her inner walls began to pulse around my fingers, the telltale tightening that signaled her approaching climax. I increased my pace, thumb finding her clit to circle in precise, firm motions that had her straining against her living restraints.
"That's it," I encouraged, watching her face contort with pleasure. "Give in. Show me what you look like when you shatter."
She came with a silent scream, mouth open but no sound emerging as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Her inner walls clamped down on my fingers in rhythmic pulses, thighs shaking, back arched in a perfect bow of release. I worked her through it, easing the pressure gradually as aftershocks rippled through her body. I didn't let up until she was sobbing my namein short, ragged gasps, her pussy spasming greedily around my still-moving fingers.
When she finally slumped against the glass, chest heaving with exertion, I slowly withdrew my fingers from her heat. Her eyes, heavy-lidded and dazed, tracked the movement as I brought my hand to my mouth and deliberately licked each digit clean. The taste of her arousal was intoxicating.
"Sweet," I observed, enjoying how the simple word made her squirm. "Just as I remembered."
With a thought, I released the vines from her wrists. They retreated reluctantly, curling back toward the ceiling with visible reluctance. Simone's arms fell to her sides, small red marks on her skin where she'd strained against her restraints. Those marks pleased me, temporary evidence of her surrender.
I stepped back, creating space between us even as every instinct screamed to press closer, to claim her completely. Her dress hung open, breasts still exposed, lips swollen from my kisses. Her curls had become even more disheveled, several black flower petals caught in the strands like dark stars against her brown skin. She looked thoroughly debauched. The sight filled me with a savage pride, I wanted to see her like this every night until the end of time.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I said casually, adjusting my suit jacket to hide the obvious evidence of my arousal. "We have more to discuss."
Confusion flickered across her face, followed by understanding and then indignation as she realized I was leaving her like this. "But you didn't—"
"All in good time," I interrupted, allowing myself a small smile at her frustration. "I'm a patient monster."
I turned and walked toward the vine-draped exit. Behind me, I heard her quick intake of breath, the rustle of fabric as shehurried to right her clothing. I paused at the threshold, not looking back.
"Don't be late," I added, my voice carrying the weight of command. "I'd hate to add punctuality to the list of behaviors requiring correction."
The small, outraged noise she made in response was almost as satisfying as her earlier moans.
Almost.
Chapter thirteen
Krampus
The café ledgers revealed more about Simone than she probably realized, every inventory order documented, schedules perfectly balanced to accommodate her staff's supernatural quirks, receipts filed with handwritten notes about customer preferences. I traced a claw over her flowing script, feeling the indentations she'd pressed into the paper. Even her handwriting was efficient yet warm, exactly like the woman herself. Three months of no formal manager and a 3 person team should have tanked the café's profits, but she'd somehowmanaged to increase revenue while making the place feel like a home rather than a business. The evidence of her competence surrounded me in this cramped back office that smelled of coffee grounds and cinnamon, yet confirming what I already knew wasn't why I'd called this meeting.
I leaned back in the creaking office chair, my horns nearly scraping the low ceiling. The scent of her lingered here too fainter than when I'd had her pressed against the greenhouse glass, but unmistakable to my heightened senses. The memory of her surrender made my blood heat. But there was something else too, something beyond the physical claiming that nagged at me like a splinter beneath the skin. The flash of vulnerability in her eyes when she'd whispered about losing herself. The weight of resignation in her shoulders when I'd announced the holiday party. The practiced way she'd rebuilt her facade after falling apart in my arms. I needed to understand her better. And for that, I needed insight from those who'd known her longer than I had.
Three short knocks sounded on the door, yanking me from my thoughts.
