Page 44 of Ho Ho Homicidal Mania
“The one you wanted to bake for me. Are you having cum-induced amnesia now?”
I groan and cover my face, mortified but somehowstillaroused. “For a moment there, I thought that was some kind of gay slang.”
Nico snorts and buries his face in my neck as his hands slide to my ass and squeeze. “I’m yet to eatthiscake. I hope you’d like that?”
“Oh fuck… I—” My head floats with embarrassment as I worry about him not liking how I taste, or smell, yet I can’t help loving the image of myself on my hands and knees while Nico buries his face between my buttocks. “I mean… you’re the one with experience.”
“But feel free to say if something’s not up your street.” Despite his size and strength, Nico’s so gentle with me I melt on the inside. “I want to know what you like. What you fantasized about when you bit the bullet and went to that nightclub.”
This I didn’t expect, not after the way he led me through the sex, taking over just like I dreamed he would. But when I swallow and note he’s still watching me, I slide my arms around him and soak up the warm weight as I speak. “I thought someone would like me—someone I liked back—and I’d get to go down on him?”
I know I’m making this sound like a question, but a part of me fears therearewrong answers to Nico’s questions.
He’s holding back a smile and strokes my cheek. “Aww, that’s almost wholesome. Are you glad I’m your first instead?”
My cheeks are burning, but I force myself to keep looking back at him as I nod. “This was… very hot,” I say in a voice so quiet I worry I might need to repeat myself.
“No rush, but I want to fuck you. Is that something you also wanted?” His blue gaze is so intense when he looks straight into my eyes without blinking. As if he’s focusing on prey.
That’s me. I’m the prey, and that fact is stirring something in my balls again. Am I attracted to danger? Is that it? Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to true-crime, not the intellectual reasons I claim.
“You mean anal sex, right?” I say and imagine it happening on this bed, with me face down in the pillows and him rocking into me.
“Yes.” Nico nods, still piercing me with the daggers he has for eyes. Thinking of daggers makes me think aboutpenetration. “I want to be deep inside you, make you squirm and moan my name. I want to make you come first so you squeeze your muscles tightly around me. And then I want to come inside you and leave you dripping.”
I whimper and attempt to lift him with my hips, only to discover I can’t. He grins at me, as if this is a game, and I cross my ankles on the small of his back, excited beyond all reason. “Yes, please, I want that. I want you to take care of me,” I say, a bit shy, because I’m showing the very core of myself to a man who, technically, is still a stranger. So I add, “just let me get my bearings first,” I add, because no matter how exciting his words are, I do have a brain in my skull, and need to keep some semblance of control.
Nico bites back a smile. “Sure. No rush. Sweets, we will have the best Christmas here,” he says as I count the days in my mind.
How long does he intend to stay here?
Chapter 18
Blake
It’s been four dayssince we arrived at the cabin, and while my thoughts often drift off to Carl’s betrayal, analyzing our relationship over the years, it’s been an extremely peaceful time. There isn’t that much to do so deep in the woods, so I settled on first watching Nico do some repairs, then helping him out. I felt guilty over not offering to help him clean as soon as we arrived. I’m so used to these things just being done it didn’t occur to me, but that’s no excuse.
We then progressed to making some Christmas decorations, because he insisted, and soon the cabin was adorned with cut pine branches, fairy lights, and paper chains made of magazine cuttings. As much as I detest Christmas, there’s no denying that our efforts have elevated the place, making it feel more lived-in. It was also a surprisingly lovely way to spend time together in theevening, just sitting by the fireplace, homemade cake at our side as I cut the paper and Nico glued the pieces together.
Guilt once again poked me straight in the face when during cleaning I found a basket with yarn and a crudely drawn design of a sweater. In an instant, I realized that Nicomadethe piece of knitwear I called the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. It must have taken him hours, if not days, and he wanted to give it tome. I know it’s somewhere in the back of his car, but it would be weird if I started to wear it all of a sudden, accepting his gift out of pity, so I’m stuck in a guilt limbo any time I see the basket of knitting supplies.
There are still moments when I worry that Carl’s people will track us down, and I’ll find myself with a red laser dot in the middle of the forehead right before it explodes, but Nico’s relaxed attitude has rubbed off on me, and the idea of staying hidden until Carl’s back from Aspen no longer feels like the slowest of suicides. A part of me detests that he gets to celebrate and have fun with friends he never introduced me to as his last hurrah, but I console myself with the fact that he surely is beside himself over my disappearance. After all, the money won’t be his until I turn up dead.
But it’s easy to forget Carl’s existence when I have a beautiful cock to suck for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Is it a crass thought? Certainly, but there is something about lewd words that makes my body heat up and long for touch. Nico has been a perfect gentleman about my inexperience, never trying to push beyond what’s comfortable for me yet always happy to feed me a steady diet of dirty talk. He’s attentive, never fails to make me comfortable, and while the fact that he is a murderer is still present at the back of my mind, it’s very easy toignore in the face of his gentle kisses, passionate touch, and our long conversations over a variety of cakes we bake together.
Is his Christmas obsession strange? Sure. Is he a murderer who likes creepy crafts a bit too much? Yes. But is he also the most caring boyfriend I could ask for? Pretty much.
I haven’t actually called him my 'boyfriend', but I do like to toy with that in my mind. A lot.
I don’t ever feel lonely when I’m with him. He never trivializes anything I say and looks out for me. That’s how a good relationship should feel, right? Maybe it’s the isolation playing tricks on my mind, but in the face of his attention and care, all the worries I have about being around a killer seem like minor details. In fact, I have a sick fascination with every single murder he admits to me. Am I complicit at this point? I could go to the authorities and make a fuss, discouraging Carl from ever trying to go after me again, but I don’t want to.
I will never feel safe until the flakes of his teeth float in Nico’s new snow globe.
I don’t want to appear like a lovesick puppy, or bare myself to him too much, but reciprocating his attention feels natural, so I applied my new skill and cooked some eggs for him as he forgot all about breakfast, busy planning a way to get his hands on Carl.
He does spend quite some time researching things, learning about the house we have in Aspen, and ways to get there with least possibility of being tracked. I don’t know if I should be happy about that or frightened of just how excited he is to kill someone.
Because that’s the thing with his morbid and dangerous side. It’s all fun and games until it turns against me one day. If he doesn’t get his fill of murder because thecircumstances aren’t right, will his frustration rise? Will it one day overflow to a point where he gets violent with me? It’s only reasonable to think about such things. My brother, who seemed perfectly civil, has ordered a hit on me, so how can I not expect a serial killer to turn on me one day?
