“Stop,” I beg. “Please, no more. Not again.”
The words come out broken, a sob clawing up my throat.
“Shhh,my Christmas angel,” he growls, his voice all gravel and malice as he drags one hand down my leg. “You’re gonna take every last inch of me again soon. But I want to give you some very special kisses first. You will need to thank me for letting you come on my face, too.”
His palm flattens on my stomach, and when his tongue darts out to lick the seam where my legs meet—
“Pleeeeeease, no, it’s too much. Anything but that.” I thrash against the lapping of his tongue. It feels too intimate, too good. I hate it. I hate the way I can’t stop the lust and desire from swimming through me.
“Why resist?” He teases the crease of my hip with his teeth, making me shudder. “Scared you’ll love how it feels? Scared you’ll want more and never fucking be able to forget what I did to you? Never be able to come with anyone else? Not that I’d let you.”
“It’s just too much,” I snap. “I’ll suck you, or you can fuck me, but this… It’s—” I throw my head back, knocking it hard against the table, the knotting pleasure already priming to burst out of me.
His laugh is dark, wet with mockery. “Look at that pretty mouth, begging for more. I’m beginning to think far beyond Christmas with you, Cindy Lou. I think we’ll have a life together. Of course, you’ll need to tell me who the fuck knocked you up so I can cut his balls off and stuff them down his throat before I bury him. But those are just details we will work on in time. Couple goals as they say.”
The shame is visceral as he slips two fingers inside me, his tongue lashing at my clit.
“You’re dripping like a little slut.”
I kick and scream, and beg him to stop, but the second he swallows my clit with a greedy suck, my legs clamp around his head. His fingers twist into my hips, the tension from the stretchy textile tightening on my windpipe, and I can’t bear another second.
“No, please, I can’t!”I claw at the stupid little Santa hat attached to the top of the mask, not sure if I want him closer or gone entirely. He bites down on the nub of flesh, and I’m taking off toward the heavens before I can think it through. A shout tears from my lungs as my muscles spasm violently. My toes curl into the air as I lie splayed and shuddering under his mouth until I’m a mess of sweat and cum, clinging to the last pieces of my life before all this. Before he forced himself into my home, into my safe little existence.
By the time his head comes up from between my legs, my vision is blurry, but his mouth is curled into a horrifyingly wet sexy smirk.
“Now I want another kiss, Cindy Lou,” he commands against my jawline, nudging my chin up. “We kiss like sweethearts, even after the hard parts… Unless you’d rather I make you come again first.”
His free hand dips down to my soaking pussy again, thick fingers slamming inside me, making me choke on a scream.
I turn my face away, but his pinching fingers bring my eyes back to his. I smell my own scent on his breath, and when our lips finally meet, it’s hard, a kiss slick with hate and want and the evidence of my deviant shame. I taste myself on him, raw as the ache between my legs.
“Better,” he rumbles, pulling back for a second before his tongue thrusts into my mouth. It tastes so wrong, so why is my body so eager, humming for more as he forces things on me? He pulls back with a grin, smiling down into my face that must be a mess of cum, and sweat, and my own release right now. “Now, what do you say?”
I shake my head, and the truth is, I have no idea what else he wants from me. The kissing, the whiplash between being violated and then, sort of…loved, is messing with my mind.
“Say ‘thank you’, Cindy Lou,” he says patiently, voice as thick as tar. “Thank Grinchy Daddy for his special kisses. Thank him for letting you come all over his fucking face.”
As he says it, he reaches up, running a hand down the mask that is glistening under the harsh kitchen lights. The lower half of the mask is stretched across his cheeks, his grin displaying lips that are flavored with all that we’ve shared.
“Thank… Thank you,” I whimper, ready to say anything right now. Is this it? Is he finally done?
He takes a theatrical bow. “You, my little Cindy slut, are fucking welcome.”
The Grinch holds out a thick-fingered hand, and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet, my legs unsure as he works the nylon knot at my throat, releasing the makeshift leash in what feels like a small reward. I shrink into myself, not sure what’s happening right now, as he brushes my hair back from my shoulders.
“Such a pretty little girl, but overdressed for such an informal occasion.”
Before I know what’s happening, he’s grabbed a handful of the cotton nightdress, and he pulls, tearing it across the shoulders. I flinch to cover myself, but it’s no use as he gives another jerk and pulls it clean away so that I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen, completely naked.
“Hmm.” He hums, looking me up and down as I fold my arms over myself. He draws a deep breath. “She had a face full of cumand a round, pregnant belly, that shook when she sobbed like a bowl full of…baby.” His hand comes out to caress my shoulder, the softness in his hands sending a surge of comforting emotion through me. I’m not sure what I want to happen here, but I know I don’t want him to leave. “You cold, baby?” His voice takes on that low, Daddy, nurturing tone, and it lights up parts of me that have long been dark.
“I’m okay,” I lie. I’m so far from okay. I can’t even see okay from where I am anymore.
“No, you are fucking not.” The hard edge is back as he settles both hands on my shoulders, his index fingers massaging the sides of my neck as he pushes me forward. “I’ll make a fire. I think it’s time I showed you that deep down, I’m a romantic. I want to take care of my Cindy Lou. Even when I treat you like a filthy whore, it’s because it’s what you need.”
I shake my head, but he’s already guiding me so gently back to the great room. A part of me wonders if this version of the Grinch isn’t worse somehow. At least when he was using me and making me do those things, I could tell myself that it was wrong.
I already know, no matter how horrible this night has been, he’s let something out of the bottle I’ll never be able to put back. It’s like my sexuality is suddenly on fire, and I’m not sure there’s enough water in the world to put it out.
