Chapter 7 #2
He kisses me, and it’s soft and sweet. “Thank you, baby. You didn’t have to do this much.”
“Just know I’ll be playing MCR on repeat,” I say against his lips.
“One more.” I hand him the smallest box, and suddenly I’m nervous. I know I shouldn’t be… It’s Damon. The creepier the better. “This one’s special… something that I’m honestly wondering why it’s taken me so long to get.”
He opens the box slowly and goes completely still.
It’s a glass vial wrapped in silver on a chain… the vial is filled with my blood. I got the artist to attach a small circle engraved with our initials.
“I figured,” I say softly, watching his face, “since you gave me yours, I should give you mine. It’s engraved on the back.”
“Angel…” His voice is raw, filled with emotion. “This is perfect.”
“You like it?” I say, blinking back tears again.
He puts the locket on immediately, and it settles against his chest, right over his heart. His fingers touch it reverently, like he can’t quite believe it’s real.
“I’m never taking it off.”
A buzz of pride runs through me, and I curl into his side. “Good boy.”
He tilts my chin up and kisses me, deeper this time, possessive and claiming in the way only Damon can be. He slides his hand under my shirt, skating it over the soft rolls of my stomach until he reaches my bare breasts. I gasp against his lips.
“Damon.” My breath hitches. “We need to get ready for dinner in like, two hours.”
“We have time.” His fingers find my nipple, it’s already so hard and aching. “And I’m not done celebrating yet.”
“You better not be teasing me again.”
“Mmm.” He groans, sending heat pooling in my core. Then his free hand slips under the band of my underwear, his fingers dipping low until he finds my soaked pussy. “Does this feel like teasing?”
Those thick fingers circle my clit and I’m already ready to come. “Please…”
“Or does this feel like worship?” He climbs off the couch and kneels, pulling my underwear all the way off, and spreading my thighs.
The sight of him between my legs, staring up at me with that dark, possessive hunger is more than I can take. He pulls me to the edge of the couch, and I lay back for him, giving him all of me. And when his tongue touches my clit I almost jump off the couch. “More,” I beg. “Please…”
He devours me, tongue flicking, fingers pumping. I think about how his cock was inside me all night. How he’s tasting his own cum still leaking from my pussy and that’s so damn hot, I can’t hold it together. My eyes fly open and land on Holly—watching us like some creepy sentinel.
“Holly’s watching,” I manage to say on a panting breath.
Damon lifts up and smiles, his eyes flash with something dark and primal. “Good. I know how much you love being watched while you come.”
I’m about to respond until he starts fucking me with his mouth again.
“Oh fuck—” The words dissolve into a moan as his tongue drags through my folds, and plunges into my pussy.
He’s relentless, his hands gripping my thighs possessively as he works me. Every stroke of his tongue sends me closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it, Angel.” His voice vibrates against my sensitive flesh. “Let Holly see who makes you feel this good.”
I’m so damn close. My fingers tangle in his hair, yanking hard, as he sucks my clit between his lips.
“Damon… I’m—”
“Not yet.” He pulls back, leaving me desperate and aching. “Stay right there.”
“What the fuck?” He disappears into the kitchen and I’m left panting, staring at Holly’s creepy smile like she’s judging my life choices.
He comes back moments later with the bottle of peppermint schnapps I bought for hot cocoa.
“What are you—”
He takes a swig, then leans down and kisses me. The liquid transfers from his mouth to mine—cold, burning, and sweet.
“Swallow,” he orders against my lips.
I do, and the peppermint burns as it slides down my throat.
“Good girl.” He takes another sip, but this time he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he moves back between my legs and—
“Holy shit!” The cold liquid hits my heated flesh, followed immediately by his hot mouth. The contrast is overwhelming, the peppermint makes everything tingle and burn in the best possible way.
“You taste even better like this.” He licks me clean, his tongue circling my clit like I’m his last meal. “Like Christmas.”
His fingers push inside me again while his mouth works my clit and I shatter, crying out his name. His groan vibrates against my sensitive clit. He loves that he’s the only one who can make me lose control like this.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s pulling me up and lifting me into his arms. He puts me down in front of the tree, with wrapping paper and pine needles scattered around us.
“On your knees, Angel. Face Holly.”
The command in his voice sends another wave of heat through me. I obey, positioning myself on my hands and knees, staring directly at the skeleton’s empty eye sockets.
“Perfect.” He runs his hands down my spine, and grips my hips with a possessive bite. “Look at her. Our Holly. She’s going to watch you fall apart.”
I feel him position himself behind me, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
“You’re going to look at our skeleton,” he says, his voice rough with need, “while I remind you exactly who you belong to.”
I don’t have time to wrap my head around what his words do to me. He pushes inside in one hard thrust and I cry out at the fullness, fisting the wrapping paper beneath me.
“That’s it. Take all of me.” His grip on my hips is bruising but I love it. “ I need you. Need to feel you alive around me.”
“Yes,” I cry. “Use me.”
He pumps into me so hard and deep, each thrust drives me forward, making me stare directly into Holly’s gaping grin. One hand grips my hip while the other reaches around to play with my clit, and the dual sensation has me trembling.
“Keep your eyes on her,” he reminds me when I start to lose focus. “Look at what we’re building. Our life. Our home. Our fucked up perfect future. She’s part of it now.”
I see the tree shake as he pulls something off it. It feels like cool metal as he trails it down my spine. An ornament or a hook? Whatever it is, it’s making me shiver from the sensation.
“Should I mark you with this hook, Angel?” The hook drags across my skin. “Make sure everyone at dinner tonight knows you’re mine?”
“Yes.” The word comes out breathless. “Do it… please.”
He traces patterns across my back and up my neck with the metal while he fucks me harder, his breathing growing more and more ragged with each thrust. Pine needles are pressed into my palms. It smells like Christmas mixing with the musk of sex and the peppermint schnapps still on our breath.
He presses the hook into me hard enough to break skin, and it feels so good with him deep inside me.
“You feel so fucking good, baby. Come for me. Come around my cock.”
The combination of his words, his cock, the hook dragging across my skin, Holly’s gaze… it’s too much.
I explode around him, my whole body shaking with the force of it. “Damon!” His name tears from my throat just as I feel him shudder, groaning as he empties himself inside me.
We collapse together onto the floor, pine needles and wrapping paper stuck to our sweaty skin, completely wrecked.
“Merry Christmas, Holly,” I gasp, still staring at the skeleton. “Oh, and you too.”
Damon’s laugh rumbles against my back. “You’re completely insane.”
“You started it.”
“Best Christmas ever,” he murmurs against my neck, still buried inside me.
He finally—reluctantly—pulls out, and we both groan at the loss. But he tugs me against his chest, all warm and cozy, wrapping the blanket around us as we lay there among the Christmas carnage.
We get up to shower a little while later—which turns into another round, because even in my plastic shower cap, Damon can’t keep his hands off me.
By the time we’re actually dressed—me in black jeans and a black Christmas sweater with white skulls and red bows, him in the hideous Freddy Krueger monstrosity—we’re definitely running late.
“I still can’t believe you’re making me wear this,” he says, staring at his reflection.
“You look festive.” He shoots me a look. “And hot… so hot.”
“I look like Christmas murdered a horror icon.”
“Oh stop… I love it.” I snap another photo. “This is going in next year’s Christmas card.”
“We’re not sending Christmas cards.”
“We are now.”
He shakes his head but he’s smiling, and that’s when I know I’ve won.
We’re loading up the car with gifts and treats when I notice something on the porch.
“Damon.” I freeze. “Is that—”
My medical bag.