Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
his demented chuckle fades as my orgasm takes hold, bursting from deep in my center, defying the control I try to assert. I can’t fight the pleasure. It’s a freight train. Its teeth gritted, eyes shut tight, every nerve raw as he growls and pumps, pumps, pumps into me from behind. My self-loathing only seems to make the gut-twisting euphoria expand, taking over my brain, and, although I hate to admit it, a part of my heart.
This stranger knows more about how to turn me on than I do. It’s indecent and depraved, but if I live through it, I know I’ll never be the same.
“Time for your prize, Cindy Lou.” He growls, his chest resting on my back as his hips churn in a manic rush to the finish. “Time for you to take Daddy’s cream deep.”
His roar shakes the frosty windows as he plunges every inch into my welcoming body, and I release a sound that is part scream, part sob, and part catharsis. He spills in hot spurts, grunting like an animal, then holds his jerking girth against my cervix as he pants and my back bows from the pressure of his weight on top of me.
His orgasm seems to go on and on, filling me with hot release, dripping out of me as my breasts make wet spots on the comforter, my walls shuddering around him.
He reaches under me with both hands, his slick torso blanketing my back as he squeezes the hot orbs of flesh.
When he releases a long sigh, I feel his weight shift behind me, hot breath against my neck as he starts that psychotic rhyming again.
“We’re going to have so much fun, Cindy Lou. I once grumped at Christmas, with a frown and a sneer. But my cock’s grown three sizes inside you, my dear.” He chuckles. “Isn’t it tradition to make sure there’s milk and cookies out for Santa? You’ve got the milk, and now, I need the cookies.”
I don’t answer. Let him think I’m too wrecked to speak. But when the Grinch finally pulls out, I collapse onto my side, watching him stagger back, stroking the crooked mask before running a hand down his chest, admiring me lying there in a ball, broken and holding my round belly, soothing the life inside. Wondering what I’ll have to offer my baby after all of this.
“One thing even the Grinch knows, Cindy Lou, is that we kiss after we make love.”
“Love?” I spit the word. “This isn’t love.”
I stop as he leans down, getting in my face, his hand gripping my jaw, and I’m sure he’s about to hurt me. But instead, his lips graze mine.
“It’s just a kiss for Daddy. I’ll make it nice for you, Cindy Lou.”
I can’t stop the whimper that comes out of me as I open, letting his tongue inside my mouth, letting our lips move together.
The kiss is tender, and real. Not the mocking imitation I expected. When it’s over, he pulls back, patting the top of my head like a toddler waiting for a father’s praise. “There. Wasn’t that nice?”
I don’t want to answer as he stands up straight. I blink away tears, not willing to admit that yes, it was nice. It was perfect.
“Get dressed,” he says, the hardness returning to his voice as he steps to my dresser, rifling through the drawers until he finds a yellow cotton nightgown. He holds it up, and his smile deforms the rubber mask around his cheeks. “Perfect. I’ll even help you put it on. Arms up for Daddy.” He steps my way, and I do as he says, my mind a minefield of lust and hatred. He settles the fabric over my head, tugs it down over my taut belly, then pulls me to my feet. “Come with me. We’re not done.”
He tugs his jeans back on, fastening them quickly, then walks over to pluck the knife from the wall, securing it back in the sheath at his hip.
“This was just foreplay.”
CHAPTER 6
I’m still orgasm drunk as he continues to help himself to an inventory of the drawers in my dresser. He’s still naked from the waist up, and the view of him from behind is creating more chaos in my brain, because, damn, this man has a back that has more hills and valleys than Montana.
“I hate you,” I whisper as he spins with a pair of black pantyhose in his hands, his dark eyes twinkling beneath the mask as he tugs the hose wide, assessing them in some way that makes another flood of fear come over me.
“Really?” The question sounds sincere, adding to the bizarreness of this whole situation. He balls the pantyhose into one hand, starting back my way. “I don’t think that’s true, Cindy Lou, because your fucking pussy there disagrees. You soaked my cock, left a wet spot on the bed as big as Yellowstone, so I’d say hate is a misrepresentation. We’re a perfect match. I trust your pussy more than your mouth.”