17. “Are you ready to be my delicious little sugar plum?”

Chapter 17

“Are you ready to be my delicious little sugar plum?”

KRAMPUS

W hen she skips toward the globe without my permission, I give her a little zap and turn up the temperature and vibration settings on every toy her body wears. Predicting her legs giving out, I catch her and growl seductively in her ear, “You are not in charge, s?t pike.”

I give her a few mild spanks, admiring how she flexes her ass around the candy cane. I’ll melt her bones by the time the sun sets on Christmas Day.

“So sweet, so slutty,” I growl, sweeping a finger between her clamped labia and teasing around her slit, which squelches from the mere touch. “So gods-damned gorgeous like this. Are you ready to be my delicious little sugar plum?”

A groan rips from her mouth, longing but muffled. My insides catch fire from that sound. Lust constricts my throat, but her lust is my priority. It pulses heat into my very veins, trickling like molten gold into my essence. A hint of her fear beneath the inferno of adrenaline makes for an exquisite feast.

“I—fought I fas a pear,” she says through her gag, and I can’t help but smirk at her tilted head and innocent doe eyes. Those knitted brows. A cute, little smile. That wasn’t bratting. That was teasing, playing.

I love how she plays with me.

I turn her around until her little shuddering body is pressed to mine, the top of her head barely brushing my upper belly. “You will be both tonight.” Taking a moment, I cradle her face, the base of my hands on her jaw, tilting her chin to me. Fuck, that soft, swooning expression, those big, bright doe eyes glimmering like amber-colored stars, the gooseflesh all over her silken skin.

Affection seeps through our bond, unraveling around me like those ribbons to tickle my senses and warm the deep ache in my heart. Anytime the ice of my dark past arises, all it takes is a few moments with her. Preferably in her.

She blinks, then tilts her head to the side, eyeing me like a sweet but mischievous pixie with lovely golden waves falling all down her shoulders and arms. Her body sways from side to side like a bell, then she stands on her tiptoes, those plump breasts pressing to my chest, jingling the clamps as she does.

“Mmm…” she hints through the gag.

I chuff a laugh since she can’t reach my face. Not even on her tippy toes. So, I lower my brows, lower my chin, and she manages to steal my breath and get my heart pumping faster—all from one damn little kiss on the cheek. I have to get this party started before I shove her against that glass globe and fuck her senseless, boneless, mindless.

“Come with me, beautiful,” I purr but deepen it to a growl, the kind she loves.

Her giggle ripples through the gag that is wet from her saliva, and I shake my head with a snort before coiling her hair around my fist. “Not that kind of come, kjaere. Not yet.”

Hand in her ethereal curls, I work against the dark hunger raging in my system and walk her across the floor and up the three steps to the back door of the snow globe. I’ve changed it with my magic.

Now, it’s a winter wonderland of the backdrop of my castle with real evergreens and twinkle lights adorning every branch. They cast a warm, rosy glow upon Twyla’s skin. My breath deepens at the sight of her.

Taking pity on her weary mouth, I snap my fingers to remove the gag. The first thing she does is purse the swollen lips. The second thing she does is rise again on those dainty toes again and look up to ask, “Kiss me?”

I deadpan. Grit my teeth. “Fuck.”

“We can do that, too!” she chirps as I pick her up and press my lips to hers in a kiss of heat and predatory hunger. My cock stirs, pounding against the pouch until I’m grinding against her like the savage beast I am.

But it’s Christmas, for the gods’ sake! If Krampus, the Ruler of Yuletide, cannot control himself on today of all days, then I might as well hang up the damn title. Then again, I am a damn devil—only bearing a heart thanks to this angelic creature who straddles the line between naughty and pure.

She wets my fur with her fluids, and I snarl into her mouth and set her down in the middle of the lit trees. The ground upon which she stands mirrors a sheen of ice and functions like one, but it doesn’t chill her bare feet.

Despite how I may use more sparks of my magic, I’ll lose control and fuck her ass now if I don’t hurry this process along to some degree.

So, I snap the ribbons, unraveling them from her form but keep the clamps and collar on her skin. Subtle lines grace her skin from those ribbons. But while my gaze journeys all over her flesh, min skitten jente shakes her breasts to play the dangling jingle bells. The notes are off. My jaw hardens from the lustful energy and tension ready to snap.

I snap instead.

Driving her up against the nearest tree, I apply the higher setting for the clamps and the collar, savoring her shriek. And then her feminine groan as I slap at her breasts, playing the jingle bells the correct way. Her pheromones practically sing the hallelujah chorus to me as I cup her breasts, squeeze the fine plump tits, and jiggle them to play a festive tune.

“Oh, my…Krampus, Master Krampus,” she corrects herself, those eyelashes fluttering at me. “Is that…the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy?”

“Would you like to dance for me tonight, min sukkerplomme?” My sugar plum.

“I’d do a chicken dance and Cha-Cha tonight if you wanted me to.”

Fuck me. I cup her chin, my grip harder than is necessary. Sinking into those amber pools, I shake my head and tell her, “Move your body however you like, min Twyla. You make me so gods-damned hard already. But I will taste your bliss and beauty as you dance for me. And your desire.”

Her hips thrust from the attention. Her nipples grow harder in response. Fuck, what a sight she is! I inhale her scent of vanilla and cinnamon, which perfectly complement the evergreens.

Before I lose my mind, I stab a finger at the center of the globe. “And don’t even think of letting that candy cane slip from your sweet little ass. Or that ass will be sorry.”

After sparking my magic to coat her in a fresh sheen of oil and loosen the ribbons to free her arms, I rush out, gripping my hammer of a fucking cock. Shifting over one of the deep leather armchairs, I conjure a glass of bourbon and prepare for the show. Legs parted wide—since I fully intend to give her a decent one, too.

At first, she presses her fingers to the crystal, beams at me, then moves her hand in a little fluttering wave with her pretty tits and those taut nipples brushing the glass. Driving me insane, my mad little queen. Straddling the line between an angel in the streets and a naughty little devil in the sheets. Taking my sweets and treats and real devil tricks however I choose. Not that she won’t brat out now and then.

My cock battles for release, and I give it some relief. Unleashing it from my pouch, I thrill in her eyes widening and that sweet tongue licking her full, pouty lips. A dark chuckle echoes in my mind when I remember what she told me on our honeymoon about my cock. The Beauty and the Beast, she’d called it.

My sweet girl who loves the monsters of the world. My sweet girl who dove into a whirlwind of crystal shards that cut her mortal flesh to ribbons. My beautiful girl who chose to bind herself to a monster…for all eternity…as an immortal human.

Twyla will never grow old, to be sure. She will regenerate. Fuck, my mother would hold min kjaere’s spirit until a new body regenerated for her. But she will always hold human blood, human instincts, and a human heart full of human emotions upon which my kind will feed forever. She will never grow tired of the demons. She will never grow bored. Thanks to her immortal but human soul, she will be in awe of our kind for eternity. The eternal Lady of the Winter Star.

And while she may not be acting like a lady as she lowers her pretty fingers to her folds and shows me how wet she is, gesturing to my cock, Twyla will always be my lady, my queen, my sweetheart. My Bride of Yuletide.