12. “I like my eggnog straight from the source.”
Chapter 12
“I like my eggnog straight from the source.”
KRAMPUS
J ust as her eyes roll to their ceilings, I pull out, granting her breath while sliding my slick cock down. She drags back-to-back gasps through her mouth as I wipe her saliva and my pre-cum beads along her chest to wet it for my purposes. Given how large I am, all she needs to do is tilt her chin to twirl the tip of her tongue along my crown. I roll my eyes but give her an approving smile while thumbing her swollen bottom lip.
With a wave of my hand, I release her from her wrist bindings and tell her, “Push your plump breasts together, Twyla, so I may fuck your pretty pink tits.”
Her fingers tremble as she obeys, propping her breasts like plump offerings, fair and white as turtledoves. Another flick of her tongue to my tip. Fuck, the sight of my cock sliding along that canal of deep cleavage. To this day, I love her breasts. They don’t need to be overlarge to fit my hands or my dick. Just like the day I met her and unwrapped my pretty package, her breasts are average, but they are round and hold good shape. Those nipples turning hard and pink from just the sight of my tongue are what I perhaps love most.
“Look at you,”—I pause in my sliding, admiring the wanton sight of my wife—“so fucking sexy and slutty with your tongue trying to catch my cock.”
“What can I say?” She bats those long, feathery eyelashes. “I like my eggnog straight from the source. And no one has better eggnog than you, Krampus.”
With a deep chuckle, I reach for those breasts, squeezing and kneading the full, firm mounds and pinching the stiff little nipples. Her lips part, and she squeezes her eyes, but she knows better than to close them. My sweet, willing sub.
My breath deepens as I shift and thrust my hips, rocking along the sleek valley between her luscious tits. They grow wetter by the second between my pre-cum and her saliva from how much she licks the crown. All I want to do is turn her over and fuck her bareback and bare bones with her pretty, pink ass raised in the air. Hunger courses through every fiber of my being, but the more I build this up, the more likely I will get to fuck her back at the Palace, where we belong.
“Du er min,” I growl down at her. You’re mine.
She tips her head back and moans, the familiar phrase a filthy little turn-on for her. Blood heating and cock swelling with my impending release, I keep one hand gripping her breast, teasing the rosy nipple, but I lower my other to that center, still dripping and warm for me. And just as I brace my knees and anchor my muscles to lock up and thrust deep, I stab three fingers deep inside her center. Sinful and wet as hot buttered rum.
She shudders.
I unleash.
She convulses. Catches my crown. Sucks it strong. And moans.
I roar my release?—
—and pump my cock hard, shooting out little streams of cum to splash her breasts, throat, and mouth while she fucking melts for me and squirts all over my hand.
“There she is…” I growl low through a rush of sharp breaths, my muscle twitching as she licks me clean, swallowing every drop she can. Scooping up the cum on her breasts and throat, I feed it to her, savoring her thankful expression and those heavy, warm amber eyes showing their weariness.
My cock isn’t satisfied yet, but it’s a start. Shoving it back in my pouch, half-hard, I snap the ropes and gather min lille star into my arms. For the next hour, I feed her gingerbread cookies and icing before holding her naked body on top of mine as she falls asleep to the crackling fire, the storm of snow outside, and the steady beating of my heart beneath her cheek.
I palm one tender cheek, admiring the pink flesh and the plug still embedded in her dark hole. Perhaps this will be my favorite memory of this night. The snow swirling along the windows. The flames licking at the hearth. And min Twyla, min kona, min dronning, sighing in her sleep and smiling peacefully with flour on her cheek, icing on her lips, and the scent of eggnog on her skin.
Far worse ways to spend Christmas Eve.