Page 41 of Christmas Mafia Prince
Killian looks up at me all wide-eyed, his hair hidden under an aviator hat covered in spiky studs. “The whole thing?”
He’s so amazed it’s adorable. He saw some of my family riding out yesterday and couldn’t believe he didn’t yet know we had horses here. When he said he never rode one, I knew this would be the bonding experience we need, so here we are, at thestables, about to ride out. I prepared the calmest beast for him, so there should be no snags.
“Just like this,” I tell him and guide his hand up. Renoir doesn’t bother to smell the apple and takes it straight from his palm.
Kill shivers when the soft lips brush his skin, and I encourage him to get acquainted with my horse, because he will be seeing him a lot in the future. “He likes you,” I add, hovering over him, so close he can surely sense the warmth of my body.
I understand his fears, I really do. He’s a civilian after all, he’s not the biggest, he confided in me he doesn’t have experience when it comes to fights other than drunken scuffles, and he’s worried that since his taste in men has been questionable so far, his instincts are failing him.
But he’s wrong. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him, so if he needs a little nudge, I will provide it.
Kill laughs, so bright eyed I know I made the right choice bringing him to the horses.
“He’s so big! It’s a little intimidating.”
I must be becoming sex-starved around him, because even those words remind me of our first fuck and the way he stared at my cock, unsure yet elated.
I try to redirect my thoughts when heat trails to my groin and open the stall next door, where a tawny quarter horse named Bessie is waiting for her rider, already in full gear.
And this one will carry your gorgeous behind, I tell him in French, and his eyes glint as if I’ve sprinkled him with gold.
Killian gently shoves me back. “Ohstop! I’m gonna fall in love.”
This is the kind of flirting that keeps happening even when we’re not acting for an audience. It just never takes us that one step farther, yet all the sparks are there as if we popped champagne.
“Stop what?” I laugh, then continue in French. ‘Telling you you will be mine?’
He covers his flushed face, and I already know that the next time we fuck, because wewill, I’ll be whispering some sweet nothings to him in this language.
“You know what!”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lie and lead him into the stall. He doesn’t argue with me and lets me acquaint him with the gentle horse he’s about to ride. Eventually, I grab him by the waist and help him into the saddle, where he goes all stiff with fright.
“I didn’t think I’d be this high up.”
“Bessie isn’t even that tall. Don’t you worry,mon chéri,” I say and climb onto Renoir, making sure I look particularly elegant in the process. This is the day Killian’s will has to break.
“I said, stop! You actually made me giggle. Goths don’tgiggle!” But he’s laughing, because of course he doesn’t want me to stop. He longs for me to continue until he feels his choices have been taken from him and he succumbs to my tender attention.
“I love your giggle. It’s like a little bell calling for me in the woods,” I tell him as I take the lead of his horse and nudge Renoir to move.
Kill holds on to the saddle with excitement all over his face, and I know where to take him for that amazement to amplify until he can’t help but kiss me.
“But are you the hunter or the wolf?” He winks at me. He’s losing self-control with each day.
“Maybe I’m both. Who could know?” I ask him as we set off from the stable and down the wide path cutting between the trees. Everything is covered by a blanket of snow. In the sunshine, I spot tracks of small animals who must have passed by recently and point them out to Kill. “A fox was here.”
He has that look-at-me-I’m-riding-a-horse smile on his face and it’s so charming I want to roll in the snow with him. “Please don’t tell me you’ll be hunting foxes tomorrow. They’re so pretty.”
“No, of course not. Besides, I’ll be the one hunting. You just need to drink hot chocolate and look pretty when I come back with my trophies.”
I wonder how freaked out Killian is going to be when he finds out what kind of prey the Van der Horns hunt each Christmas, but I think the truth will be easier for him to swallow once he’s back in my arms, stretched under me, with my cum inside his body.
He shimmies his shoulders with glee, looking more confident on horseback by the minute. “I bet that’s why Titus is so pissed off all the time. He knows you’ll bring more trophies than him. That and Bree’s probably not putting out since she said several times how much of an ick that Christmas blazer is giving her.”
“Serves him right,” I say as the horses carry us through the fairytale-worthy woods. Titus and Bree’s wedding was in December, and they had a whole photoshoot in the snow. If I didn’t hate the idea of copying my brother so much, I would gladly use the same setting for some pictures featuring Killian and myself. “But this is it. The hunting grounds. The property comes with plenty of land offering more than enough space for the beasts to roam.”
And this year, I’ll finally get to hunt.
