10. “Would you care for some eggnog?”

Chapter 10

“Would you care for some eggnog?”

TWYLA

A t least he has mercy on my toes, apart from the frosting that curls in tickling caresses. All the fine hair follicles on my body rise as he pipes more patterns and dots along my calves, my knees, and finally…my thighs. He cups the flesh of one still-nude thigh, digging his fingers into the thickness.

“S?te sexy l?r,” he says in his thick, husky accent, rugged and rhythmic, strong and soothing. It always reminds me of the wintry mountains and snowy forests surrounding his castle. And gets me hot with its dark and captivating authority. “ Sweet sexy thighs ,” he translates and slaps the one, jiggling the flesh.

I bite my lower lip and resist the urge to keen as he takes a moment to play with my thighs, smacking them a little. To think! I avoided bathing suits for years because of how much thicker my thighs are on average. But to Krampus, the extra plumpness gives his tongue “more to lick” and his teeth “more to bite”.

Tears squeeze from my eyes as his fingers tiptoe up toward my pussy. One swipe of those fingers along my wet pubis, one soft tug of my darker blonde curls on my mons is all he does before returning to the icing bag.

My inner muscles spasm when he pipes the frosting along my outer folds. I can’t tell what design he’s forming or if he’s even making one. Knowing my Krampus and his attention to detail, I suspect it’s something cute and festive.

“Ohhhhholyhollyberries!” I gasp as he teases the frosting right along my slit, and I feel it ooze in warm dollops with my wetness.

“Steady, min Twyla,” he urges me, and I flex my feet and clench my thighs so hard.

“Fucking fruitcakes!” I squeal from the cold tip rubbing and circling my swollen clit. I’m one throbbing beat in my cunt away from begging for his Krampus cock.

At last, he sets the bag down, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief, my shoulders relaxing against the hardwood.

Krampus stands, cocks his head to the side, and makes a frame with his hands—as if taking a mental snapshot.

“I planned a boutique photo session with twinkle lights, min stjerne,” he remarks, and I give a faint smile at the sight of his horns hardening and his demon dick twitching behind his pouch and fur.

“Hmm, what else did you plan?”

“Well…” he lowers himself to straddle me again, his slabbed chest a breath from brushing my frosting-clad one. “While I may not have intended on icing, min dronning, I did plan to lick you from your pretty golden head to your sensitive, little toes.”

I gulp.

At least he lets me move and scream this time. No creature alive could be strong enough to resist that unbelievable tongue. It’s practically a Christmas miracle! All my nerve endings ignite. Adrenaline and arousal spike my blood until my pulse blazes when that tongue licks every inch of my heavy breasts.

With a mind of their own, my hips thrust and roll, nearly bucking from him suckling my nipple into his monstrous hot mouth. His tongue, wet and tender but sandy in texture, coils around the bud in a snug grip to tug them.

More cream floods my center. More pressure intensifies. His dominance, alone, can make me go weak at the knees until I’m begging and humping him. And with his tongue circling and tugging at my erect tips, I climb toward that shimmery crest as bright as a shiny, tree-topper star.

He retrieves his tongue, dragging me back and slapping the side of my breast. “Slem jente,” he scolds and strikes the opposite swell, avoiding the engorged buds since I’d likely come from the pressure. Bad girl.

My flesh turns to warm goo, every muscle liquefying as he makes his way to my pelvis, licking the icing designs. I giggle when he deviates to my toes, wiggling and struggling until he grips each by the heel and pulls them harshly so he may finish cleaning the frosting off my feet. Sighs and moans pour out of me, and I tremble beneath his diabolical tongue traveling along my thighs.

He pauses to study the hot, needy vestibule between my legs, his fingers coaxing my swollen lips apart. A hot flush surges through every inch of my Krampus tongue-licked skin.

“So fucking wet. Faen, so greedy and gods-damned soaked for me. Du er s? vakker,” he adds in his deep timbre that can melt me faster than whipped cream in hot cocoa. You are so beautiful, I recognize. Shudders erupt through my body the more his gleaming eyes steal across my folds, lower until he’s wrenching my pussy open so hard, stretching the flesh to expose my slit. “Min Christmas stjerne…such a sweet, little slut.”

He leans closer, nose hovering along my folds to breathe in my scent. The second he teases his finger, pushing it through my slit, my body proves what a slut I am when I suck the digit into my drenched depths. And moan with my hips thrusting, convinced I could come from one pressured pump of that finger.

Instead, he removes it. My whiny protest is cut off when his mouth dives for my cunt, and he seals himself to my wet heat. He twists and flicks that masterful tongue, working me into a begging, bucking, sweat-soaked lather with my insides ready to burst hot squirts of cream right onto his face. Then, he splits that wondrous organ.

“Fuck my figgy pudding!” I cry when he stabs one section of his tongue through my slit, circling it all around my hot, spongy insides. Shivers explode through me, and I scream as the other tongue extension slaps at my swollen, wet clit, working it back and forth. “Krampus, please!”

He raises his hands to my breasts, kneads them, then curls his thumbs upon my hard nipples. “Come, min Twyla.”

The deep groan resonating from his mouth into my pussy sends me over the edge. My orgasm strikes, ripping through me to light up my blood and nerve endings with liquid flames of pleasure. Sobbing out his name, I ride his tongue, his hot sucking mouth—my hips thrashing, my plug-stuffed ass thudding more pressure to my zones, and all my muscles and bones turning to goo.

His tongue slinks from my pussy like a cunning snake while the other extension uncoils from my clit, slipping along my drenched lips. The action, combined with his hands squeezing and twisting my nipples, is enough to send another aftershock of tiny, convulsive riptides.

I’m still coming down when he travels up my body and opens my mouth beneath his. A bewildering, devilish kiss with his sinful tongue stroking every inch of mine to give me my taste, tart but with the sweet notes of royal icing. He stabs his tongue down my throat, robbing me of breath with the unholy organ. I feel the pressure of his cock against my belly, swearing it grows beyond the fur and pouch.

“Krampus…!” I say, breathless, after he finally withdraws his tongue.

“Mmm…min Twyla,” he groans deeply and traces my swollen lips with his tongue. “Would you care for some eggnog?”