Page 25 of Slaying for Santa
As my orgasm fades, my hearing returns, our panting breaths loud in his room.
“Fuck, look how good you take my whole hand.” His voice is rough as he gives his cock one last pump. “You fucking swallowed my fist, Bellicent. I can feel everything inside you.”
Jesus Christ. I fucking gush again at his words, and he chuckles, feeling it.
How is that even possible? I literally just came.
“I fucking love seeing my whole fist disappearing inside you,” he growls, and I push up on my elbows, still in pain but wanting to see too.
I’m panting, more arousal building in me as the pain of his fist easing out a little and then sinking back in, sets me on fire again.
“Look, you can see me moving inside you,” he rasps, twisting his hand, and ohhhh, just above my pubic bone, I can see my skin rolling with the motion of his hand. “Shit, you’re gushing again.”
My eyes dart to his, and for a long moment, we both stare at each other.
I don’t recognise this feeling I keep getting. It’s weird, yet warm. Like a heated blanket on a cold day. But also thrilling,like I’m on the precipice of something new. Something Bell Bishop has never experienced before.
“I don’t freak you out?” I ask, my voice husky, yet strangely lacking my usual confidence.
Kit frowns at my question, sitting there between my legs with his fist literally buried inside me. “Do I freak you out?”
I shake my head.
“Then why would you think you freak me out?”
“I hate to state the obvious, Kitson, but I’m not exactly normal. Most guys want to have a ride on the freak train, but bolt quickly afterwards, fucking terrified of me and the things I enjoy.”
Shifting, Kit leans forward until our noses are mere inches apart, and with his free hand, the one that isn’t deep in my cunt, he fists my hair and tugs me forward until we are breathing the same air.
“They aren’t terrified of you, Bell. They are terrified of how much they fucking like the stuff they experience with you, and that’s on them, because they cave to society’s norms. They are the men who visit kink clubs and only use cash so there’s no evidence. They are the ones who are married, unhappily, who have vanilla sex with their wives, too scared to ever ask them to be a part of their fantasies.” Kit jerks me closer, our lips brushing as he speaks. “They are the type of cowards that don’t deserve a woman like you, Bellicent. They don’t even deserve a fucking ride, let alone a second fucking thought.”
His lips crash to mine and something snaps inside me, turning me almost feral as I kiss him back, biting at his lips, his tongue, and moaning when he does it back, digging his teeth into my lip so hard that I taste blood.
His hand starts moving inside me again, the pain of it amping up my pleasure, and despite how wrong I know it is to do this a second time tonight, I reach up, tugging on hiswrist until he releases my hair, and I guide his hand to my throat, urging him to squeeze.
And he does. His fingers wrap around the column of my throat, putting pressure on the outside while avoiding too much pressure on my trachea, like he’s done this before.
The rush of it builds quickly, feeling the biting pain of his hand stretching my pussy, the way his fingers punch into my cervix and dig deep into my hard to reach A-spot has heat and pain mingling in the best way, all while he deprives me of oxygen.
My head feels light and floaty, and I give myself over to him completely.
“Sharing?” His voice has my eyes snapping open as he fist fucks me. “You into that?”
I open my mouth to speak, but because I’m so lightheaded, my words are slurred.
“You want a… threesome?” I breathe out. “Let me guess… two chicks and you?”
He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he leans in close.
“No actually. My mate and I… withyou.” He nips at my parted lips. “Would you be into that?”
He feels it before I can even answer with words. The way I grow slicker at the very idea of being shared between him and his mate has a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest.
Ignoring how my body has already answered him, I try to take in as much air as I can so I can speak, feeling the rush about to hit, and knowing I’m going to come and pass out any moment.
“I’m into it… as long as you don’t care about sharing.” I gasp for air, and he fists me faster, harder. “Men can get possessive… even when it’s a casual hookup.”
“You don’t have to worry about that with me and Wes, Bell. Sharing is one thing we do fucking well. He’s a sadomasochist. So together, the three of us will either fuckingwork,” he punches into me quickly, and pain flares like wildfire, “or we’ll kill each other.”
