Chapter 11

11

ALASKA

Jingle Bell Rock - Our Last Night, Cole Rolland

A s the heat of our first encounter still lingers in the air, Johnny gently sets me down on the floor, my legs shaky beneath me. My body is still vibrating from the mind blowing orgasms this stranger, Johnny, just gave me—every touch etched into my memory. I feel a swirl of emotions: confusion, exhilaration, and an unexpected warmth spreading through me, making me feel both vulnerable and yet, empowered.

He moves with purpose, turning to run the bath, and I can’t help but watch him, captivated by his every action. There’s something mesmerizing about the way he navigates the space, his strong hands adjusting the water temperature, ensuring it’s just right. I can see the steam rising, curling around him, making him look almost ethereal. He reaches for my favorite vanilla-scented bath salts, pouring them into the water, and I can’t help but smile at the small, yet meaningful gesture.

“Vanilla,” I murmur, the scent enveloping me like a warm embrace. “You remembered.”

He glances over his shoulder, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Of course. You were so relaxed the other night. Thought you might like it again.”

He lights all my favorite candles, filling the room with a warm glow and that comforting vanilla scent, creating an atmosphere that feels both intimate and safe. It’s the kind of scene I’ve only ever dreamed of, and I can hardly believe it’s happening.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low rumble, as he steps closer to me. I take a deep breath, allowing the warmth radiating from him to wash over me.

He helps me into the bath, his hands firm yet gentle on my waist. The hot water envelops me, and I sink into its soothing embrace, a soft sigh escaping my lips as the tension in my body begins to melt away. Johnny watches me, his expression softening as he takes in my blissful reaction.

With a sponge in hand, he begins to wash me, his movements slow and caring. Each stroke sends tingles of pleasure coursing through me, igniting every nerve ending. The sponge glides over my skin, his fingers brushing against my collarbone, down to my shoulders, and I lean into his touch, reveling in the way he cares for me.

As Johnny gently washes my body, I can’t help but feel vulnerable, completely exposed in the warm water. I’m naked, my skin glistening with droplets as he moves the sponge over my curves, and a mix of embarrassment and unease floods me. I’ve never been one to embrace my body, always feeling awkward and out of place in my own skin.

His hands glide over my arms and shoulders, and I can’t shake the awareness of my figure—the way my breasts sag under their own weight, the way my curves flow into rolls that I’ve always been self-conscious about. My thighs, thicker than most, press against his strong legs, and I wonder if he notices the way my body doesn’t fit the mold of what’s deemed perfect.

Despite my insecurities, there’s something incredibly intimate about this moment. Johnny’s hands are gentle, and as he moves the sponge across my skin, I catch glimpses of admiration in his eyes. It’s as if he’s cherishing every inch of me, and for the first time, I wonder if maybe my body isn’t so terrible after all.

But self-doubt creeps in. I think about how I’ve always wished to be slimmer, to have a flatter stomach and perky breasts like the girls I see in magazines. The thought of being judged, of him seeing me as less than perfect, makes my cheeks flush. I want to shrink away from him, to hide, but there’s a part of me that craves this attention, this care.

Suddenly, his voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts, low and steady, like a balm. “Stop that, snowflake.” He catches my gaze, his eyes piercing into mine, filled with an intensity that leaves me breathless. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Every curve, every roll, every fucking so-called imperfection only makes you more perfect in my eyes.”

His words wrap around me like a warm blanket, soothing the tight knots of insecurity within. I look into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception, but all I see is sincerity—a deep, unwavering affection that both frightens and excites me. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not ever. You’re mine now, and if I want to see all of you, you’re going to fucking let me.”

His hands move to my waist, fingers lingering gently on the soft flesh, and I feel my body respond to his touch, igniting a flicker of confidence within. For the first time, I allow myself to think that perhaps my body, in all its imperfect glory, is worthy of love and tenderness.

“ I’ve never felt this way before ,” I think, a small smile creeping onto my lips as I lean back against him, surrendering to the warmth of the moment. Maybe, just maybe, I can start to accept myself as I am, flaws and all, especially if he sees beauty in me that I can’t yet recognize in myself.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, almost as if he knows how much I need this moment to ground myself. I can feel myself softening under his touch, the gentle caress of the sponge and the warmth of the water.

As he washes my back, the sponge kneads the tension from my muscles. I can’t help but melt into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips. “You have no idea how good this feels,” I whisper.

“Is that right?” he teases, his breath warm against my ear. “Good.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice, as if taking care of me brings him genuine joy.

Johnny moves with an ease that makes me feel cherished, and I can’t help but admire how he focuses on every little detail. When he moves to my arms, I can see the tattoos along his biceps, the intricate designs capturing the dim candlelight. I let my fingers brush against his skin, and he shivers at my touch.

“Do you always take care of the women in your life like this?” I ask, my voice teasing but genuinely curious.

He pauses, a flicker of something darker passing through his eyes. “No. Not like this,” he admits, his tone steady. “I’ve actually never cared for a woman like this before. Normally, I use them for whatever the fuck I need, and get rid of them. I’ve never seen a reason to keep them. No one’s ever meant anything to me—until you.”

I search Johnny’s eyes, trying to untangle the web of his words. “What do you mean when you say, ‘get rid of them?’” My voice wavers, but I press on, desperate for clarity.

He leans back against the tub, his dark charisma filling the air with a sinister charm. “Oh, you know, sometimes I kill them, Alaska,” he says, his tone light, almost teasing, as if we’re discussing the weather instead of murder. “Sometimes it’s an accident—whoops, a slip of the knife when the rage takes over. But then there are those delicious moments when it’s for my own twisted pleasure.”

A chill runs down my spine. It’s terrifying to hear him say it so casually, yet there’s an odd thrill in his honesty. I can see the flicker of something in his eyes, a deep need for me to understand him. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, snowflake. You don’t have to fear me, not like that,” he assures me, his voice softening, a sharp contrast to the darkness he embraces.

“I want to protect you, not harm you,” he continues, his gaze intense and unwavering. “With you, it’s different, you know? You matter to me—more than anyone ever has. And I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m a killer, but I’d never lay a finger on you. That’s not how this works.”

His words wrap around me, warm and inviting, but I can’t ignore the gravity of what he’s saying. “It’s all about acceptance, darling. You’ve got to take me for who I am, flaws and all. No sugarcoating here.”

The way he speaks pulls at something deep inside me, a bizarre mixture of fear and exhilaration. “You’re the only one who matters to me now. I want you to trust me.” His smile is both comforting and unsettling, and in that moment, I feel the fragile strands of my defenses begin to unravel.

“But how can I? After seeing what your capable of?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, caught between the thrill of his confession and the fear of his reality. “How can I trust someone capable of such darkness?”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Because, snowflake, I’d do anything to keep you safe, to make sure you’re happy. That’s the new game we’re playing. It’s just you and me, and I promise, I won’t hurt you. Not now, not ever.”

With each word, I feel the weight of his promise sink in, and despite the chaos swirling around us, I’m drawn to him—this beautiful, broken man who wears his flaws like a badge of honor.

I’m taken aback by his honesty, the raw truth in his words hitting me like a wave. “Really?” I whisper, my heart racing at the weight of his confession.

“Yeah,” he continues, his gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m fucked up, snowflake. Some will even tell you I’m a goddamn psycho and that I’m dangerous, and they’re right. But with you… everything is different. You mean something to me. So I won’t ever lie to you, or keep anything from you.”

His admission wraps around me like a warm blanket, soothing my fears and stirring something deep within me. I should be scared. Shit I should be fucking terrified. This man, Johnny, he’s a killer. Mark, just one of the many victims to meet their ending by his hands if I had to guess, and yet, right now, even in my most vulnerable states, I don’t fear him. “Thank you, I guess. For being honest,” I say softly, feeling a mix of vulnerability and strength.

As he finishes washing my body, he steps behind the tub, his fingers finding their way into my hair. He gently lathers my scalp with shampoo, and the sensation is electric, each stroke sending goosebumps across my skin. His fingers work through my hair with just the right amount of pressure, massaging my scalp as if he knows exactly how to ease my mind. The heat of the bath radiates through my body, calming me as I lean into him, craving more of his touch.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion, his breath warm against my ear.

“More than good,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. The care he shows feels foreign yet exhilarating, and I can’t help but revel in it. I’ve never experienced this kind of tenderness before, and it ignites a warmth in my chest that leaves me feeling vulnerable yet cherished.

When he finishes, he pulls back slightly, his dark eyes searching mine. “You relax, I’ll go make us some breakfast,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

“Wait,” I say, my voice steady despite the rush of emotions coursing through me. I reach for his hand, my fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulling him back toward me. “I want you to come in the bath with me.”

He hesitates, his brow furrowing as he considers my request. There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or maybe a hint of excitement.

“Please,” I urge, the sincerity in my voice making it impossible for him to resist. I watch as he takes a breath, contemplating before nodding. He slides out of his bloodied jacket and Santa pants, sending them to pool around his ankles on the wooden floor before stepping into the tub, the water lapping at his strong thighs as I take in the sight of him.

My heart races as I absorb every detail—his shoulder-length dark hair slicked back from the water, the way the dim light dances across his chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. Without his jacket, I can see the toned muscles of his arms and chest, his skin a warm, sun-kissed tan adorned with intricate tattoos.

He’s incredibly attractive—like, off-the-charts hot—and his cock is by far the biggest I’ve ever encountered.

As he settles into the water, I glance over to him, feeling a surge of boldness. I take the sponge from his hand and begin to wash him, starting at his shoulders and gliding the soft sponge over his toned skin. The warmth from the bathwater contrasts with the coolness of the sponge. His muscles are sculpted, each contour perfectly defined, and I can’t help but admire how the water glistens against his tanned skin. I focus on the sensation of the sponge gliding over his skin and the soft sounds he makes with the contact.

Leaning in closer, I let the sponge trail down his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers. I continue washing him, moving lower and letting the sponge brush against the hard line of his abs. I can’t help but admire the way he reacts, the slight tension in his muscles, the way he holds his breath as I explore, but his eyes never leaving me.

When I finish, I set the sponge aside and take a risk I wouldn’t normally take. Without thinking, I slide over and straddle him, my body brushing against his as I settle into his lap. I can feel his hardness beneath me. His full lips pull into a cocky smirk that ignites a fire deep within as his hands find their way to my hips, gripping me firmly. Without thinking, I capture his face between my hands, I pull him up to me, and our lips collide in a heated kiss.

The kiss is hungry, filled with a longing that pulls us closer together. His mouth moves against mine with a fervor that leaves me breathless. I taste the remnants of my juices on his lips, and it’s intoxicating. My body responds to him instinctively, igniting a fire deep within as I grind against him, craving more of his heat, more of his touch.

But just as I try to take things further, to claim him entirely, he stops me, his hands firm yet gentle on my hips. “Alaska, wait,” he breathes, his voice strained with need. “You need food first.”

“Food?” I echo, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but I know he’s right. The ache between my legs is a reminder of my desire, but the logic in his words cuts through the haze of lust.

“Yeah. Food,” he repeats, his dark gaze locking onto mine, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of his lips. “Then, once you’ve eaten like a good girl, you can have Santa’s cock as much as you want.”

A smile breaks across my face at his words, a mixture of excitement and impatience. The promise of what’s to come lingers in the air between us, but for now, I know I need to eat first, even if every fiber of my being wants to forget about food and dive back into the passion that ignites whenever we’re together.

“Fine, but I’m holding you to that, Santa,” I tease, leaning forward to give him a soft peck on the lips.

“Good,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

With that, I slide back into the warm water, the sensation calming the heat still coursing through my veins, but my heart races as I watch him rise from the tub, his toned body glistening with droplets of water. I can’t help but admire him as he turns to leave, the candlelight catching the tattoos on his back, highlighting the muscles that ripple under his skin.

As he steps out of the bathroom, I can’t shake the feeling that this moment marks the beginning of something new—something beautiful, yet terrifying. I lean back against the tub, my thoughts swirling as I wait for him to return, my body still tingling from his touch.

I should be scared. I should be running, fleeing this cabin and the danger that looms in the shadows. But deep down, I can’t deny the pull I feel toward him. The man in the Santa suit, a monster wrapped in a facade of holiday cheer. It’s insane, really. How can I be falling for someone so twisted? Yet here I am, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, feeling exhilarated by the danger he represents.

There’s a thrill in the way he looks at me, a hunger that drives me mad. It’s as if he sees right through me, peeling back the layers to reveal my deepest desires. I should be repulsed, but instead, I find myself captivated. I can’t help it. Each moment spent with him ignites a fire inside me, a yearning for something raw and wild that I know only he can give me.

I close my eyes, the water lapping at my skin, and let the thoughts wash over me. He’s a monster, yes, but he’s also a savior in a world that feels increasingly cold and uninviting. My heart races at the thought of him, a nearness of sweet promises and dark intentions.

I’m falling for a monster in a fucking Santa suit, and part of me revels in the chaos that comes with it.