"Fuck," he groaned, his hand tightening on my throat just enough to make my vision blur.
And then he started moving, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, slow and deep, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside me that made me see stars. His hand stayed on my throat, controlling me, commanding me, as his other hand gripped my hip, keeping me steady. His pace was relentless, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and when he leaned down to whisper in my ear—"Cum for me, little star"—I shattered, my pussy clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
“You take me so well,” he growled, his hips grinding against mine. “But I want to feel you ride me. I want to watch your tight little pussy milking me dry.”
He pulled out of me with a wet, filthy sound and flipped onto his back. He grabbed my hips and lifted me onto his cock, seating himself deep inside me again. "Ride me," he growled, his hands gripping my waist as I started to move, my hips grinding against him.
I rode him hard, my hands braced on his chest, his cock hitting all the right spots as I chased another orgasm. His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing and pinching my nipples, making me moan louder.
“That’s it, little star,” he moaned. “Take what’s yours.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer, I clenching around him as I screamed his name. He followed, his thrusts becoming erratic as he emptied himself inside me, his growls of pleasure echoing through the room.
We collapsed together, breathless and sated, his arm draped possessively around me. “You’re mine, little star,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my neck. I smiled pressing myself against him and soaking up the joy that was spreading through me as I started to drift again.
A few hours later I woke again to Krampus nuzzling me awake, his arms still around me.
"The shower is through there," Krampus said, releasing me with what felt like reluctance. "Everything you need should be inside."
I slipped from the bed, acutely aware of my nakedness as I padded across the hardwood floor. His eyes tracked my movements, appreciation evident in his gaze, but he made no move to follow me. The bathroom was as imposing as the rest of his quarters, black stone, brass fixtures, a shower large enough to accommodate beings twice his size. Light globes flickered to life as I entered, casting a warm glow over everything.
Alone for the first time since yesterday's whirlwind of shopping, dining, and mind-bending sex, I leaned against thesink and stared at my reflection. My curls were a disaster, my lips still slightly swollen from his kisses, faint marks visible on my throat where the collar had been. I looked...claimed. Thoroughly. But also strangely vibrant, as if some essential part of me had been awakened after a long dormancy.
The water temperature adjusted automatically as I stepped under the spray, the pressure perfect against my tender muscles. I used his soap, something herbal and expensive-smelling, and tried not to think about how easy it would be to get used to this. To him. To waking up enveloped in warmth instead of alone in my cold apartment.
When I emerged, wrapped in a towel the size of a small blanket, Krampus was gone. I found new underwear and a dress from yesterday's shopping neatly folded on a chair, but before I could reach for them, the scent of something delicious wafted through the open bedroom door. I dressed quickly and followed my nose to a kitchen I hadn't seen last night. Krampus stood at a sleek black counter, he'd dressed in what must have been casual attire for him, a burgundy shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms, and black pants that did nothing to disguise the powerful thighs I'd felt wrapped around me last night.
"Sit," he instructed, nodding toward a small table already set for two. "It's almost ready."
I perched on the edge of the chair, feeling distinctly out of place. A steaming mug of hot cocoa sat at my place setting, and I wrapped my fingers around it gratefully, needing something to ground me in this surreal morning-after scenario.
Krampus placed a plate before me, laden with pancakes, golden butter melted over the top, releasing the scent of cinnamon.
"Eat," he said, taking the seat opposite me with his own heaping plate. "Before they cool."
The first bite melted on my tongue, flavors exploding in waves, sweet, spicy, with an underlying richness that made ordinary pancakes seem like pale imitations. I couldn't stop the small sound of appreciation that escaped me.
"You like them." Not a question. He looked pleased.
"They're incredible," I admitted, taking another bite. "What's in them?"
"Spices from the other side. They don't have names in your language." He watched me eat with obvious satisfaction, as if my enjoyment of the food he'd prepared was a victory in itself.
I focused on cutting perfect triangles from my pancakes, keeping my eyes on my plate rather than meeting his gaze. My fork clicked against the fine china with each nervous movement, betraying my discomfort. I sipped cocoa to hide behind the mug, my legs jiggling beneath the table in small, restless motions.
"You're uncomfortable," he observed, setting down his own fork. "Why?"
I shrugged, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. "This is just...new territory for me."
"Breakfast?"
"No." I fidgeted with my napkin, folding it into smaller and smaller squares. "This. The morning after. The...caregiving."
He tilted his head slightly, regarding me with those unnerving eyes. "You don't like being cared for."
It wasn't a question, so I didn't treat it as one. My eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in details to avoid looking at him directly, the spice jars on open shelving, the knife block containing blades that gleamed, the window that somehow showed a view of mountains that couldn't possibly exist in this city.
"I'm not used to it," I finally said, the words sounding smaller than I'd intended. "It makes me feel like I owe something in return."
