Chapter 6 #3
His laugh is dark, wet with mockery. “Look at that pretty mouth, begging for more. I’m beginning to think far beyond Christmas with you, Cindy Lou.
I think we’ll have a life together. Of course, you’ll need to tell me who the fuck knocked you up so I can cut his balls off and stuff them down his throat before I bury him.
But those are just details we will work on in time. Couple goals as they say.”
The shame is visceral as he slips two fingers inside me, his tongue lashing at my clit.
“You’re dripping like a little slut.”
I kick and scream, and beg him to stop, but the second he swallows my clit with a greedy suck, my legs clamp around his head. His fingers twist into my hips, the tension from the stretchy textile tightening on my windpipe, and I can’t bear another second.
“No, please, I can’t!” I claw at the stupid little Santa hat attached to the top of the mask, not sure if I want him closer or gone entirely.
He bites down on the nub of flesh, and I’m taking off toward the heavens before I can think it through.
A shout tears from my lungs as my muscles spasm violently.
My toes curl into the air as I lie splayed and shuddering under his mouth until I’m a mess of sweat and cum, clinging to the last pieces of my life before all this.
Before he forced himself into my home, into my safe little existence.
By the time his head comes up from between my legs, my vision is blurry, but his mouth is curled into a horrifyingly wet sexy smirk.
“Now I want another kiss, Cindy Lou,” he commands against my jawline, nudging my chin up. “We kiss like sweethearts, even after the hard parts… Unless you’d rather I make you come again first.”
His free hand dips down to my soaking pussy again, thick fingers slamming inside me, making me choke on a scream.
I turn my face away, but his pinching fingers bring my eyes back to his. I smell my own scent on his breath, and when our lips finally meet, it’s hard, a kiss slick with hate and want and the evidence of my deviant shame. I taste myself on him, raw as the ache between my legs.
“Better,” he rumbles, pulling back for a second before his tongue thrusts into my mouth.
It tastes so wrong, so why is my body so eager, humming for more as he forces things on me?
He pulls back with a grin, smiling down into my face that must be a mess of cum, and sweat, and my own release right now. “Now, what do you say?”
I shake my head, and the truth is, I have no idea what else he wants from me. The kissing, the whiplash between being violated and then, sort of…loved, is messing with my mind.
“Say ‘thank you’, Cindy Lou,” he says patiently, voice as thick as tar. “Thank Grinchy Daddy for his special kisses. Thank him for letting you come all over his fucking face.”
As he says it, he reaches up, running a hand down the mask that is glistening under the harsh kitchen lights. The lower half of the mask is stretched across his cheeks, his grin displaying lips that are flavored with all that we’ve shared.
“Thank… Thank you,” I whimper, ready to say anything right now. Is this it? Is he finally done?
He takes a theatrical bow. “You, my little Cindy slut, are fucking welcome.”
The Grinch holds out a thick-fingered hand, and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet, my legs unsure as he works the nylon knot at my throat, releasing the makeshift leash in what feels like a small reward.
I shrink into myself, not sure what’s happening right now, as he brushes my hair back from my shoulders.
“Such a pretty little girl, but overdressed for such an informal occasion.”
Before I know what’s happening, he’s grabbed a handful of the cotton nightdress, and he pulls, tearing it across the shoulders. I flinch to cover myself, but it’s no use as he gives another jerk and pulls it clean away so that I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen, completely naked.
“Hmm.” He hums, looking me up and down as I fold my arms over myself.
He draws a deep breath. “She had a face full of cum and a round, pregnant belly, that shook when she sobbed like a bowl full of… baby.” His hand comes out to caress my shoulder, the softness in his hands sending a surge of comforting emotion through me.
I’m not sure what I want to happen here, but I know I don’t want him to leave.
“You cold, baby?” His voice takes on that low, Daddy, nurturing tone, and it lights up parts of me that have long been dark.
“I’m okay,” I lie. I’m so far from okay. I can’t even see okay from where I am anymore.
“No, you are fucking not.” The hard edge is back as he settles both hands on my shoulders, his index fingers massaging the sides of my neck as he pushes me forward.
“I’ll make a fire. I think it’s time I showed you that deep down, I’m a romantic.
I want to take care of my Cindy Lou. Even when I treat you like a filthy whore, it’s because it’s what you need. ”
I shake my head, but he’s already guiding me so gently back to the great room. A part of me wonders if this version of the Grinch isn’t worse somehow. At least when he was using me and making me do those things, I could tell myself that it was wrong.
I already know, no matter how horrible this night has been, he’s let something out of the bottle I’ll never be able to put back. It’s like my sexuality is suddenly on fire, and I’m not sure there’s enough water in the world to put it out.
Down the hallway, he makes comments about the family pictures as we walk. Saying something about how the smiles on our faces are deceiving. My brain is like twisted spaghetti by this point, so I don’t question. I don’t argue.
Not just because I’m an intellectual disaster right now, but also because he’s right.
His cum is tugging my skin tight on my cheeks and forehead.
I see it in my eyelashes when I blink. When I smile or raise my eyebrows, it flakes off and pulls like a beauty mask when it dries.
I’m glad there are no mirrors in the room because I’m sure I look like I’ve been dragged behind the tractor through a manure pile.
I think my lack of interest in relationships and guys in general grew from the idea that I wasn’t desirable.
Growing up under the gaze of a show horse of a mother, with her pageant sashes and trophies on display, her weight charts, and prioritizing trips to the salon over having food in the fridge, made me think that if I wasn’t ‘that’ girl, no one would want me.
I play tough, but in my creamy deep center, there’s a deep longing to be protected. To be the center of someone’s universe. So, with a flicker of softness from this maniac, my brain immediately jumps to maybe this is what I want.
He leaves me standing by the edge of the hearth on the fuzzy lambskin rug as he crouches down. The sinuous muscles in his back tugging under the skin. My claw marks are like red reminders of what I’ve endured since he stepped into my bedroom, and also, the torch of pleasure he lit inside me.
I stand silent, watching his hands move as he sets logs in a neat stack, then crumples newspaper from the pile Colbert always keeps in the crate next to the log holder. The crinkling sound and the way he’s humming Silent Night blanket me in a sense of warmth and nostalgia.
I think my mind has finally cracked, because I’m crying, but it’s not from fear. It’s the strangest sense of contentment and even…happiness.
“There. Isn’t that better?” He turns my way, the mask not even an oddity anymore as the fire starts to crackle and pop, flames jumping up between the logs.
I nod. “Are we done?”
He brushes his hands down the tops of his thighs, then pushes up, taking mine in his rough palms.
“You should know better than that by now, Cindy Lou. I have so many things I still want to do with you. Get down on the fucking rug.” He nods to my bare feet, the fire heating the front of my skin, then steps back, letting my hands fall at my sides.
“Do a nice downward dog for me. If memory serves, the girl in your little story loved her yoga. Let’s play that out, see where it fucking goes. ”