Page 29 of A Very Killer Christmas
His smile is quick and roguish as he sucks the skin on the inside of my elbow into his hot mouth, staining it red.
“Sort of like a Christmas gift, only, I will give it to you every day. I’m nice like that, see? A total keeper.”
His mouth moves to the side of my breast, and he leaves another mark, sucking just hard enough to sting a little. I stare at my arm. Altogether, I see three hickeys, and he’s busy leaving another one on my stomach.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just giving you some friendly reminders. So when you see yourself in the shower, you’ll think of me.”
The fifth hickey lands right by my hipbone. When he’s done, he sits back on his heels and studies my body. His cock is hard, the root nestled in a thatch of dark hair. I gasp a little when I see it, my lower belly heating with expectation.
Rowley looks up and smiles. “You’re beautiful, Prudy.”
My cheeks heat instantly, and I look away, abashed yet pleased. “Um. Thank you?”
“You don’t have to thank me for stating a fact.”
He moves fast, palms settling on my inner thighs to push them apart. He crawls between them, long body lying belly-down, his legs bent so they don’t dangle off the mattress. He kisses my hipbone, then my thigh, and then, his fingers dive between my legs and spread me open.
“Oh!”
I stare, unsure what to do. It’s just so… So hot, almost depraved. His head is dark, his face right there, and I remember how wet I was, and how sticky it all is, and he…
And he licks me. His hot tongue slides right over my mess, and yes, his mess, too, and he hums with pleasure as he eats me in long, eager licks.
“Oh God.”
I let my head fall back on the pillow but raise it back almost instantly. I want to watch. He’s so gorgeous, his body stretched long, muscles playing in his back as he lifts my hips to get deeper. His ass is round and muscular, and I’m struck yet again by how hot this man is.
Who cares he’s a killer? No one who sees him will suspect him. Beautiful meansgood,and he has been very good to me. I’m probably flawed, broken somehow, but I care more about his kindness toward me than any cruelty or harm he’s done to other people.
“Rowley!”
He chuckles, not pulling away. My clit is in his mouth, and he sucks, thorough and greedy, until I shake, my hips undulating in search of more friction. He adjusts the pace, going faster, his tongue attacking me to the rhythm of his sucking lips.
I come hard and fast, lower back arching off the bed. Wet, sucking pleasure ripples through me, and for a blissful, impossible moment, it feels like his mouth is all over me. LikeI’minsidehim.
His lips glisten when he comes up for air, smirking triumphantly as he takes in the dazed look on my face.
“And now, you don’t have to shower,” he says with a mischievous grin. “I cleaned you up.”
I shake my head in disbelief, my thoughts spinning. “Shower. Right. I think I should.”
I don’t move, though. My body feels languorous and heavy, more relaxed than it’s been in months. Pockets of tension I’d carried around have melted away, and I bask in the feeling of just being enough. Rowley moves closer and kisses my shoulder, then playfully nips at me with his teeth.
“No, don’t shower. Throw something on so no one will see you naked through the windows, just in case, and let’s go. You need to eat.”
I let him pull me off the bed and throw on an old, stretched T-shirt that covers me to mid-thigh. Rowley puts on his black boxers and takes my hand, leading me down the stairs.
I stop halfway down, my hand flying to my mouth. Christmas lights twinkle everywhere, colorful and bright, and the banister is wrapped in tinsel garlands that sparkle in the light.
“Merry Christmas,” Rowley says, sounding smug. “Do you like it?”
I nod, running my hand over the tinsel. He laughs, picking me up in one swooping motion, and carries me down the stairs into a gorgeous Christmas wonderland.
He’s used all the decorations that were stored in the attic, and not just in those three boxes we initially got. He must have gone digging for more when I slept, because I spot old elf figurinesand tiny paper-mâché snowflakes my grandparents stopped taking out years ago. Lights blink and flicker everywhere around us, and evergreen garlands drape over every doorframe. In the kitchen, big stained glass snowflakes hang low over the table, suspended on thin, transparent thread.
When he pulls back a chair for me, it rings with tiny bells.
