Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“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.
“This is so amazing. I never even imagined being in a place like this. Like we’re royalty from a time long gone.” Kill looks around. We ride at snail’s pace, since it’s his first time on horseback, but we are approaching the spot I hope will charm him right back to me.
“Not many get to be a part of it,” I say, letting it hang in the air, so he can imagine himself belonging in this beautiful place. With me. Hell, even with my family, once they get over themselves.
Killian too could have everything he ever dreamed of, if he only gives me another chance.
“What was it like growing up in a place like this?” he asks, eyes filled with curiosity.
I love his questions. He’s inquisitive, makes me feel heard, but this one stumps me, because it hits in unexpected ways. While I’m trying to present him with the perfect vision of a future with me, growing up here wasn’t all sunshine and roses.
I choose to be truthful, because I’m not in the business of lying to the one man I can be myself with. Not to mention that I promised him not to and intend to keep my word. “It was a mixed bag, honestly,” I say as we near the large clearing I’m leading him to. “Lots of space, I could have anything I wanted, but before Mother agreed for me to attend a boarding school, I was a bit lonely.”
He’s about to ask another question, but the sight emerging from between the trees leaves him speechless. “Is that a whole-ass carousel?”
And as if to make the moment even more magical, a gust of wind comes with a fresh flurry of tiny snowflakes. A big one lands right on his nose as I lead Bessie all the way up to the carousel. It’s rather small, but whimsical, with wooden horses that have some of the paint peeling off, and pictures of castles on the cresting, it looks like a giant macaroon in dire need of refining. Still, even now it’s spectacular in this clearing, far away from people who might invade our perfect moment.
“And no hidden traps,” I add. “It’s a nineteenth-century merry-go-round that was transported here in parts from Britain by my late grandfather. I got it for my fifth birthday.”
“Can I go see?” Killian asks, which is a cue for me to get off Renoir to help Kill down.
“Of course! I knew you would see the magic in it, chéri,” I say and approach Bessie from the side.
He looks at me with so much softness I just want to be inside him. Touching his hand will have to suffice. I instruct him on how to get down, and when he’s ready to slide off the saddle, I catch him, so he’s in my arms. His breath quickens, and my heart beats faster, because this could be when he chooses to show me his true feelings. Instead, he pulls away, but it takes him many seconds to make that decision. These stolen moments of touching him are fuel to my fire.
“You say that as if I’m a romantic, not an unemployed punk who looks at life without rose-colored glasses.”
It’s silly how he’s trying to push me away by showing me he’s unworthy of my attention. Only I get to decide who I choose. Not my parents, not Titus, and maybe not even the object of my affection.
“Ah yes, I guess this means you don’t want to sit on any of these hideous ponies…” I tease, approaching the carousel, then stroke one of the wooden heads.