The Monster in Me: A Holiday Monster Romance by Steel Serenity

Author:Steel, Serenity
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

KRAMPUS

Ifucked up.

Again.

I stretch my neck, groggily waking from an uncomfortable slumber in the living room chair. Not even the finest armchair is suitable for overnight sleeping. The stiffness in my limbs serves as a harsh reminder of my many errors last night.

I took what I needed from Penelope—although I certainly didn’t leave her wanting—and didn’t care about the rest. She waddled out of here with my seed dripping from her, yet I stayed behind with the idiots who couldn’t even put on a halfway decent show.

The woman, Lila, offered to let me join, but my stomach turned at the thought of summoning moans from her. Not when the memory of my Penelope’s were so fresh.

Hours had passed by the time they finished. How they managed to draw out such mediocre acts for as long as they did, I’ll never understand. Nevertheless, as soon as they disentangled themselves, before the sweat glistening off their pasty, hairless skin dried, I bid them goodbye and ushered them out.

By then, regret had settled in my stomach like an unwelcome guest, souring the lingering remnants of wine. The rancid taste of remorse didn’t pair well with Penelope’s sweet scent that still lingered on my bed sheets—which is how I ended up spending the remainder of the night alone in an armchair.

With a growl of frustration, I pull myself out of the chair. I can’t believe I left my penthouse for this aging manor. The floorboards squeak for saints’ sake. I drag my tired body into the shower in an attempt to wash off the stench of whiny desperation. I’m disgusted with myself both for how I treated her and how desperately I care what she thinks. I lather and lather but it doesn’t work. The water rinses away her scent but I find my nose still twitching in search of it.

I am not the selfish monster that I was yesterday, at least not entirely. I’d love the chance to see her again—to show her.

With little over two weeks to go until the big day, I’m sure she’s hard at work. I’ve never known her not to be, though it dawns on me that maybe I hardly know her at all.

I stand in front of my closet and agonize over what to wear like a blubbering idiot. What outfit says I am here to work, to maybe even get my hands dirty.

My mind flashes to the image from yesterday, my fingers slick and spreading her. The way her sweet pussy looked with my fingers pumping into her. I shake my head. Showing up with a hard cock is no way to demonstrate that I’m there to help.

I reach past the more delicate fabrics and select the most pedestrian thing I own—chinos. I slip them on and the twill fabric feels rough against my fur. Despite my dislike of them, I hope they give off the utilitarian appeal I’m going for. Paired with a cotton t-shirt, I have to fight the urge to curl my shoulders in.

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