Down the hallway, he makes comments about the family pictures as we walk. Saying something about how the smiles on our faces are deceiving. My brain is like twisted spaghetti by this point, so I don’t question. I don’t argue.
Not just because I’m an intellectual disaster right now, but also because he’s right.
His cum is tugging my skin tight on my cheeks and forehead. I see it in my eyelashes when I blink. When I smile or raise my eyebrows, it flakes off and pulls like a beauty mask when it dries. I’m glad there are no mirrors in the room because I’m sure I look like I’ve been dragged behind the tractor through a manure pile.
I think my lack of interest in relationships and guys in general grew from the idea that I wasn’t desirable. Growing up under the gaze of a show horse of a mother, with her pageant sashes and trophies on display, her weight charts, and prioritizing trips to the salon over having food in the fridge, made me think that if I wasn’t ‘that’ girl, no one would want me.
I play tough, but in my creamy deep center, there’s a deep longing to be protected. To be the center of someone’s universe. So, with a flicker of softness from this maniac, my brain immediately jumps to maybe this is what I want.
He leaves me standing by the edge of the hearth on the fuzzy lambskin rug as he crouches down. The sinuous muscles in his back tugging under the skin. My claw marks are like red reminders of what I’ve endured since he stepped into my bedroom, and also, the torch of pleasure he lit inside me.
I stand silent, watching his hands move as he sets logs in a neat stack, then crumples newspaper from the pile Colbert always keeps in the crate next to the log holder. The crinkling sound and the way he’s humming Silent Night blanket me in a sense of warmth and nostalgia.
I think my mind has finally cracked, because I’m crying, but it’s not from fear. It’s the strangest sense of contentment and even…happiness.
“There. Isn’t that better?” He turns my way, the mask not even an oddity anymore as the fire starts to crackle and pop, flames jumping up between the logs.
I nod. “Are we done?”
He brushes his hands down the tops of his thighs, then pushes up, taking mine in his rough palms.
“You should know better than that by now, Cindy Lou. I have so many things I still want to do with you. Get down on the fucking rug.” He nods to my bare feet, the fire heating the front of my skin, then steps back, letting my hands fall at my sides. “Do a nice downward dog for me. If memory serves, the girl in your little story loved her yoga. Let’s play that out, see where it fucking goes.”
CHAPTER 7
“Stick that perfect, juicy bubble butt up in the air. I want the full view with you ass up, head down, baby. Daddy needs you to put that drippy little Cindy Lou cunt where I can see it all.”
I’m spent and shaking. Sticky and sweaty. Dizzy and hazy. I’m standing, staring at him. The mask doesn’t frighten me anymore, but he does. And I’ve learned over the last few hours, I have a fear kink.
Still, my brain knows that unknown things are dangerous, and before I follow his command, I ask, “What are you going to do to me?”
“Did I open the fucking floor to questions? No, this is my night, and you’ll do as I tell you. That is our deal, isn’t it? Or did you forget?” He reaches out to pat my head. “It’s okay, so much happening. So many orgasms, so many fantasies coming true. But,” he stalls, landing a hard smack on the side of my ass to break me out of my haze. “Now, assume the fucking position, Cindy.”
“Someone’s going to figure out who you are, you know,” I say shakily.
“Maybe, but not fucking tonight. In the whole of Whoville, not a creature is stirring. Not even a mouse. Nobody is coming to save you, so get down on all fours before I make you. And you won’t like that.” His grin is seductively psychotic, and I’m not so sure he’s right about me not liking it.
Gah.
My belly flutters as I lower myself to the floor in front of the fire, burying my face in the thick rug as I draw my knees up beneath me and stick my ass up in the air.
“Now that’s better. You look so beautiful like that, with your pregnant belly nearly touching the ground and your creamy tits dangling like udders that need a good milking.” He strides around behind me, and I flinch as his fingers connect with the bare skin of my ass, caressing, sliding over the soft flesh, then moving a sandpaper palm over the front of my hip and down, sinking a finger into my wetness. He hums against my ear as he touches me, and I realize it’sYou’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.
God forgive me, I can’t help but hum along.
My lips open, drawing long, shaking breaths down my throat until he squeezes my clit and I release a feral, choked, animalistic sound that feels like it comes from the depths of hell itself.
“What are you going to do?” I whimper again, my fingers curling in the soft fur of the rug, the fire turning my cheeks to blazing furnaces as he answers with that low snorting chuckle, his voice taking on a lilting depth as he recites:
“Oh, I’ll gobble and grab, and I’ll pinch, and I’ll thrust. By the time that I’m done, you’ll be writhing in lust.” His mouth is next to my ear, warm breath still hinted with the scent of my sex, as he whispers in a low, sinister tone, “I’ll finger and fist with a grin full of cheer, till you’re crying, ‘No more!’, your face covered in fucking tears.”
I buck as he settles behind me, both hands taking hold of my butt cheeks and pulling me apart as I pant and look down at the creamy rug, counting to ten, wondering what’s coming next.
I only get to three before he’s shoving his face between my ass cheeks, the rubber mask sticking to my flesh as he does.
His tongue darts out, drawing a low moan from me as the tip penetrates that dark, forbidden place.
He laps and pokes at my clenched muscle, the dirty sensation making me gush again, my eyes rolling back as my inner muscles clamp down, wanting, wanting more, more.
