Page 17 of Slaying for Santa

A laugh bursts from his lips. “You know you’ll pass out, right?”

“Exactly.” I nod, and he nods in return, no longer surprised by my bedroom antics.

“Time to suffocate on my cock then, like a good fucking whore.”

CHAPTER 6

KIT

HaveI imagined my sister’s Satan worshipping best friend on her knees like this before?

Fuck yes. Hard not to when she always spoke about sex like she’s discussing the fucking weather.

I never told anyone though. Not my mates. Not the guys from my platoon. Not even Wes… and fuck, we’ve swapped more truths than most men survive.

Now she’s here on her knees. Black smears running from her eyes to leave a dirty trail down her cheeks. Those lips that she used to hide behind black lipstick, fuck, they are the perfect shade of pink, all swollen and rolled back as she takes my cock into her mouth like a fucking pro.

Fuck. Maybe she is. Maybe this is exactly what she does for a living.

I used to tag her as the enemy. Still kinda do. Most women fall into that category by default with me. But I’m working on that.

My hangups aren’t great. It’s fucking wrong that every woman I look at besides my sister and daughter has me throwing walls up. But fuck, I go to therapy when I can… sometimes.

Therapy is fucking draining. I know where it all stems from. My cunt of a mother.

She traded me for her next high, giving me to sick foul women that liked to abuse. I learned really fucking quick that women could wound deeper than the bullets I’ve dug from my flesh. It’s taken years to scrub those fucking lessons from my brain, but some days, the stain of them fucking shows through.

Bell Bishop though… she never fit that pattern. She carries her own wounds. She’s experienced another kind of evil, and despite that, she holds her head high and faces this fucked up world like a fucking warrior.

I used to hate that about her. Jealous I couldn’t be the same.

I’ve kept my distance because the more I hated her, the more I wanted her.

Fuck. I’ve been obsessed from day one.

Intrigued. In awe. Completely fucking infatuated.

I even thought I was in love with her right before I married Rhonda.

She’s chaos in combat boots, and I’ve been tracking her in the shadows for years.

So why am I crossing the line now?

“Kill me with your cock.”

Fuuuuck, that’s why.

She stretches her lips wide, those big dark eyes locking with mine as she gives me a command and consent in one breath.

Every muscle locks up as I fight the trained soldier in me to stand the fuck down.

Take the fucking shot, Kit. She’s giving herself to you on a fucking platter.

Control is something I’ve mastered. Drilled into me through therapy and combat training. I need to measure theresponse. Tame the fucking rage and keep it leashed.

So what the fuck is this?

Violence.