Chapter 16 Simone
Chapter sixteen
Simone
Iwoke up wrapped in heat so complete it felt like I was melting.
Krampus's massive body curved around mine like a fortress, his chest against my back, one heavily muscled arm draped over my waist. Every inhale filled me with the reminder that I wasn't in my apartment's squeaky twin bed.
I was here. With him. The monster who had claimed me so thoroughly last night that my body still hummed with the memory.
I shifted slightly, his furred legs tangled with mine beneath sheets that felt impossibly soft against my naked skin, some fabric I'd never encountered before, something that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
His breathing remained deep and even, giving me a moment to absorb the strangeness of waking beside someone else. Of being held. Protected. Wanted.
The unfamiliarity of it tightened something in my chest, not unpleasant, exactly, but alarming in its intensity. Like standing at the edge of a precipice and wondering what would happen if you stepped off.
"Good morning, little star." His voice rumbled through his chest and into my back, deep and rough with sleep.
I tensed instinctively, caught in my private thoughts. "Morning."
His claws traced lazy patterns through my curls, careful not to snag or pull, each touch so gentle it seemed impossible coming from hands designed to tear and punish. He placed a kiss on my bare shoulder, his lips warm against my skin, fangs grazing but not breaking the surface.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, the question so ordinary, so human, that it momentarily knocked me off balance.
"Yes." I swallowed, uncertain how to navigate this new territory of morning-after domesticity. This was something I hadn't prepared for. "I should probably... get up. The café—"
"Is being taken care of," he finished, his arm tightening fractionally around me. "I arranged it yesterday. Your staff knows."
Of course he had. Of course they knew. Which meant Silas and Bramble were probably concocting wild theories about what I was doing and who I was doing it with. I squeezed my eyes shut, momentarily overwhelmed by the thought of facing them later.
But then Krampus shifted behind me, his massive, muscled frame pressing closer, his thick, throbbing cock already hard and nudging against the curve of my ass. His breath was hot on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Enough thinking," he kissed my shoulder "You’re mine now."
He flipped me onto my stomach with ease, my face buried in the pillows, my ass arched high and ready for him. His cock pressed against me, the tip teasing my entrance, making me whimper with need.
"Krampus," I moaned, my voice muffled by the pillow, but he didn’t care. He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, his hand wrapping around my throat. His thumb stroked the pulse point under my jaw, and I shuddered.
"Beg for it," he commanded. "Beg for this cock."
"Please," I gasped, my hips wriggling, desperate for him to fill me. "Please, Krampus, I need you—I need your cock."
He chuckled darkly and then he pushed into me, inch by agonizing inch. My nails dug into the sheets as he bottomed out, his hips flush against my ass, and he paused, letting me adjust to his size.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hand tightening on my throat just enough to make my vision blur.
And then he started moving, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, slow and deep, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside me that made me see stars.
His hand stayed on my throat, controlling me, commanding me, as his other hand gripped my hip, keeping me steady.
His pace was relentless, each thrust driving me closer to the edge.
I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly, and when he leaned down to whisper in my ear—"Cum for me, little star"—I shattered, my pussy clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
“You take me so well,” he growled, his hips grinding against mine. “But I want to feel you ride me. I want to watch your tight little pussy milking me dry.”
He pulled out of me with a wet, filthy sound and flipped onto his back. He grabbed my hips and lifted me onto his cock, seating himself deep inside me again. "Ride me," he growled, his hands gripping my waist as I started to move, my hips grinding against him.
I rode him hard, my hands braced on his chest, his cock hitting all the right spots as I chased another orgasm. His hands moved to my breasts, squeezing and pinching my nipples, making me moan louder.
“That’s it, little star,” he moaned. “Take what’s yours.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer, I clenching around him as I screamed his name. He followed, his thrusts becoming erratic as he emptied himself inside me, his growls of pleasure echoing through the room.
We collapsed together, breathless and sated, his arm draped possessively around me. “You’re mine, little star,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my neck. I smiled pressing myself against him and soaking up the joy that was spreading through me as I started to drift again.
A few hours later I woke again to Krampus nuzzling me awake, his arms still around me.
"The shower is through there," Krampus said, releasing me with what felt like reluctance. "Everything you need should be inside."
I slipped from the bed, acutely aware of my nakedness as I padded across the hardwood floor.
His eyes tracked my movements, appreciation evident in his gaze, but he made no move to follow me.
The bathroom was as imposing as the rest of his quarters, black stone, brass fixtures, a shower large enough to accommodate beings twice his size.
Light globes flickered to life as I entered, casting a warm glow over everything.
Alone for the first time since yesterday's whirlwind of shopping, dining, and mind-bending sex, I leaned against the sink and stared at my reflection.
My curls were a disaster, my lips still slightly swollen from his kisses, faint marks visible on my throat where the collar had been.
I looked...claimed. Thoroughly. But also strangely vibrant, as if some essential part of me had been awakened after a long dormancy.
The water temperature adjusted automatically as I stepped under the spray, the pressure perfect against my tender muscles.
I used his soap, something herbal and expensive-smelling, and tried not to think about how easy it would be to get used to this.
To him. To waking up enveloped in warmth instead of alone in my cold apartment.
When I emerged, wrapped in a towel the size of a small blanket, Krampus was gone.
I found new underwear and a dress from yesterday's shopping neatly folded on a chair, but before I could reach for them, the scent of something delicious wafted through the open bedroom door.
I dressed quickly and followed my nose to a kitchen I hadn't seen last night.
Krampus stood at a sleek black counter, he'd dressed in what must have been casual attire for him, a burgundy shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms, and black pants that did nothing to disguise the powerful thighs I'd felt wrapped around me last night.
"Sit," he instructed, nodding toward a small table already set for two. "It's almost ready."
I perched on the edge of the chair, feeling distinctly out of place. A steaming mug of hot cocoa sat at my place setting, and I wrapped my fingers around it gratefully, needing something to ground me in this surreal morning-after scenario.
Krampus placed a plate before me, laden with pancakes, golden butter melted over the top, releasing the scent of cinnamon.
"Eat," he said, taking the seat opposite me with his own heaping plate. "Before they cool."
The first bite melted on my tongue, flavors exploding in waves, sweet, spicy, with an underlying richness that made ordinary pancakes seem like pale imitations. I couldn't stop the small sound of appreciation that escaped me.
"You like them." Not a question. He looked pleased.
"They're incredible," I admitted, taking another bite. "What's in them?"
"Spices from the other side. They don't have names in your language." He watched me eat with obvious satisfaction, as if my enjoyment of the food he'd prepared was a victory in itself.
I focused on cutting perfect triangles from my pancakes, keeping my eyes on my plate rather than meeting his gaze.
My fork clicked against the fine china with each nervous movement, betraying my discomfort.
I sipped cocoa to hide behind the mug, my legs jiggling beneath the table in small, restless motions.
"You're uncomfortable," he observed, setting down his own fork. "Why?"
I shrugged, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. "This is just...new territory for me."
"Breakfast?"
"No." I fidgeted with my napkin, folding it into smaller and smaller squares. "This. The morning after. The...caregiving."
He tilted his head slightly, regarding me with those unnerving eyes. "You don't like being cared for."
It wasn't a question, so I didn't treat it as one.
My eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in details to avoid looking at him directly, the spice jars on open shelving, the knife block containing blades that gleamed, the window that somehow showed a view of mountains that couldn't possibly exist in this city.
"I'm not used to it," I finally said, the words sounding smaller than I'd intended. "It makes me feel like I owe something in return."
Krampus was quiet for a long moment, long enough that I finally looked up to find him studying me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. Not pity, I would have hated that, but something equally unsettling. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition.
"You don't owe me anything, Simone." He reached across the table, one claw gently hooking under my chin to lift my face. "That's not how this works."