19. “Thank you, Krampus.”

Chapter 19

“Thank you, Krampus.”

TWYLA

M y heart somersaults in my chest with every step he takes toward me.

The pressure in my ass is too much, and I’m waiting for the candy cane to shoot out of me at any moment from how hard I’ve been squeezing around it. I’m also certain I’ve creamed myself a few times.

I take a deep breath and hold it as he opens the side glass door and steps inside to join me. Since my mouth is watering so much at the sight of his monstrous member, I won’t dare to part my lips. That length has swelled to such a size, that it wouldn’t be physically possible for any female to take it. Well…maybe a giant. How lucky am I that my husband is a demigod who can rearrange my internal organs and then put them right back where they were!

I almost jump for joy when he closes the door behind him and crosses the distance to me, ignoring the evergreen needles skirting his form.

He stops an inch from me. My breath heaves and cleaves as his eyes take a sinful journey along every inch of me. Oh, gods, his control awes me! The tension inside him strains to the breaking point, holding on by a single thread. The sole fact that he hasn’t snapped and taken me like a feral demon beast just turns me on more.

“Does he love me?”

It was my one question to Hel after she gave me three options. I kissed farewell to immortal and mortal bliss and traded them for an eternity of this…

Hope. Dreams. Magic. Love.

I found my happily ever after inside the eyes of the monster of Christmas. His heart practically beats outside of his chest, hovering in the air before us—his control and tenderness beyond the dark, masculine hunger in his eyes are more than enough evidence. Krampus, the Ruler of Yuletide, the King of Christmas, loves me, Twyla, a human, a naughty girl. His naughty girl.

I shiver when he drapes his knuckles along the swell of my breast, collecting sugar crystals upon his calloused skin. Consumed by his shadow, I feel smaller than ever. But I also feel beautiful.

I don’t need to be powerful. He’s my big, bad demon, protecting me from wolves, boring board meetings, my intrusive thoughts, and even…himself. I find my power in these moments, knowing how much he wants me, needs me. I find power in knowing I saved the most infamous monster in the world. And how he gave me his heart in return. I gave him mine the moment I said…

“Thank you, Krampus,” I whimper.

He blinks. All the tension snaps. I smile, knowing how those three words belong to us and how wild they make him. Because, while he believes he owes me every single day, it’s my reminder of how he owns me—how I choose to give him that power over me. I find mine in return.

Krampus snatches me by my hips, raising me until I’m eye-level from him. And then…oh, glorious gifts and garlands, he grips my ass and hoists my legs over his shoulders. I barely get a gasp before he drives me up against the nearest tree and buries his face between my thighs.

I brace for him to take that fucking wonder of a tongue straight for my pussy, but I should have known better. No greater tormentor than my husband. He flicks that tongue along my thighs, lapping up the sugar crystals and oil mixed with my wetness.

“Krampus!” I whine and wiggle, aching and dying for fulfillment.

All my protest gives me is him spanking my ass and grinding me up against the tree harder, which just pressures the candy cane in my anus deeper.

“Oh, gods-damn gingerbread man!” I curse and gasp, thankful when he at least lets me moan and scream and dig my nails into his iron column of a neck.

His tongue grows. And sweeps along my sloppy, wet folds in a tantalizing tease before it flicks up to slap at my breasts. The bells jingle to the “Carol of the Bells”—but the Krampus version, of course. Between his tongue and my writhing, my breasts bounce and shake, quivering with my nipples impossibly hardening more from a heavy aching need. After playing my tits to the tune, he takes that tongue on a slow leisurely drag to lick those sugar crystals.

When he splits his tongue into hairline threads to tease my areola in thin, spiraling movements, I buck against his face—wiping my center against his face.

That tongue retreats.

“No!” I wail.

“My greedy girl…” he chuckles darkly. “So naughty rubbing your sloppy, sweet pussy all over my face.” He kisses my outer lips, and I whimper and roll my hips, needing more.

“Please, Krampus, for the love of Hel, I need-I need?—”

“Tell me how much your wet, sloppy cunt needs my cock fucking it until you scream my name in every carol known to mankind.”

Hot tears stream down my cheeks. When I feel his groan against my pussy but not his tongue, I lift my hands to grip his horns until I’m bucking and riding his face.

“I need you, Krampus. Every part of you. Your mouth, your tongue, your horns, your body, your gods-damned gorgeous cock with all its eggnog, and your heart!”