Cole’s eyes don’t drift downward, and he doesn’t let me go when I try to pull away and remove myself from his lap.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
I blink at him, unsure of what to say. My first instinct is to spill my guts, to let him comfort me. But this was a one-time thing, and the high of sex is gone. I need to get out of here before I cry, or worse, ask him for more.
I force a well-practiced smile on my face, one that I’ve used over the years to fool everyone into thinking I’m fine. And mostly I am. I’m strong willed, independent, have a good job, and pay all my bills. Even if life tries to kick me down over and over again, I always stand back up and move forward. This will be no different.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I reply. “But I’d like to get dressed.”
Cole’s brow furrows like he doesn’t buy it. Leave it to him to be the only one who can see through my bullshit. But in the end, it doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t.
I pull away, and he lets me go. I shove down the disappointment that he did, but know it’s for the best. He did what I asked him to do.
With wobbly legs, and my ruined tights still on, since he didn’t tear the elastic band around my waist, I find my dress, flushing when I see the candy cane decor he used on me lying next to it. I’m going to have to take that with me and burn it—or maybe wash it, and put it in a frame to memorialize that time Santa fucked me in a mall afterhours.
My cheeks flame, but I can’t help the small smile that plays on my lips. I can’t believe we actually did this. What’s more, we didn’t get caught. At least not yet. We still have to get out of here without a janitor or any night security that might be here seeing us.
I leave the candy cane for now and pull my dress over my head, not bothering with my bra that I spot hanging from an elf statue not far from me, along with my torn underwear at its feet. While my ass and pussy are exposed, the parts of my tights still hanging on to my thighs are wet, evidence of both our lust has soaked the torn seams. Thankfully my dress covers my private parts enough I could walk out of here without removing them, and maybe Cole has a jacket I could borrow since I left mine in the car.
“Vixen.”
Cole’s booming voice has my spine straightening, and the parts of my ass he spanked tingling. As if my skin remembers what that dominating voice brought upon it last time.
When I don’t turn around, he repeats my name with more gusto. I tell myself to grab the rest of my things and walk away, but instead my traitorous body turns around.
His brown eyes have darkened, but he hasn’t moved from his chair. His suit coat is still parted, but he’s tucked his cock back in his pants—which I’m grateful for. If I’d seen it, I think I might have sat on it again. My body is already responding to the way he spoke, and the dominating way he’s staring at me.
Cole lifts one hand and crooks his fingers like he did before my spanking. “Come here, Vixen.”
I’m walking to him before I can make another choice. He pats his knee and that’s when I finally break from my haze.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cole.” I’d slipped and screamed his name as I came, and now I’m intentionally using it. He may still be in his Santa suit, but we’re no longer playing the roles we put in place to make our brains think it was okay to fuck each other.
To my surprise he doesn’t flinch. His eyes soften and his cheek twitches, his dimple trying to form. He pats his knee again. “Sit, Vixen. Or do I need to take you over my knee again?”
My still sensitive clit throbs and I automatically squeeze my thighs together. Cole’s dimple fully forms when he sees it, and he holds out his hand to me.
“Please?” He tries again.
The sincerity in his eyes and his pleading makes me fold. I sit on his lap and he takes me into his arms as if we’ve done it a million times before. As if this is where I’m meant to be.
My resolve crumbles and I relax into him, needing to feel his warmth and comfort again, even if I only left it moments ago. I inhale his scent, the smell of his sweat mixed in, making it headier yet somehow more steadying. His hand on my thigh holds firm, and the one wrapped around my back pulls me closer, his thumb stroking my hip in slow sweeps.
“That’s better,” he says after a moment of silence.
I look up at him, his warm gaze finding mine. It is better, but I’m surprised he’s saying it is.
“It shouldn’t be.”
His fingers on my thigh dig into my flesh and he presses his lips together. He takes several shallow breaths before he says, “and why is that?”
I cock my head to the side, a short laugh puffing through my lips. “You’re serious?”
“Do I look like I’m not?”
I attempt to pull away, but he keeps me on his lap. I should say I’m annoyed, but we have to have this conversation, and I may as well revel in his touch for a few more minutes before it all ends.
“Vixen,” he looks deeply into my eyes, his gaze serious. “It is better. Having you in my arms will always be better.”
