“Santa Baby” crescendos in the background, and my chest heaves with short breaths. His hand grips tighter on my waist, and his gaze darts down to my red painted lips. I wore the lipstick, aptly named theNaughty List, to mark the holiday. The bright red color is the same as his suit. I like how it makes my lips stand out amongst my round freckled face.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m leaning in. He doesn’t stop me, but he also doesn’t close the distance. His lack of reciprocation is a reminder of who he is, and I pull back so I can no longer feel the heat of his breath or smell the traces of peppermint. The image of him sucking on a candy cane beforehand is more attractive, and more lewd, than it probably should be.
Cole shifts his knees under my ass so I’m lifted slightly higher in his hold. I’m not a small woman, almost six feet tall and well over two hundred pounds, but Cole handles me like a man who knows what he’s doing. The hand on my waist remains steady, strong, comforting.
Damn it to hell. He’s everything I wish I could find on dating apps and more. But he didn’t lean in just now, and while I felt a connection to him last Christmas, he didn’t do anything then either. Why would he? He’s twenty-five years older than me, and my best friend’s dad. Just because I believe there to be a mutualconnection between us, doesn’t mean we can do anything about it.
Cole stares at me for a beat longer. His mouth parts, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips framed by his silver beard that matches the hair hiding beneath his Santa hat.
“Vixen,” he draws in a breath, his belly expanding and retracting against my side. “Will you tell Santa what it is you want for Christmas?”
Right. That’s why I’m here. Not to kiss him. Not to flirt with him. We may be in the privacy of Santa’s cabin, the workers most likely gone or on their way home, but we are in a public mall.
I clear my throat, my cheeks prickling with heat when I think about what I’m going to ask him for.
“No need to be embarrassed, Vixen,” his hand flexes on my waist, “You can tell me.”
I swallow, looking down at where the hem of my dress has ridden up, exposing more of my thighs. Fingers appear in my line of vision, and a second later Cole’s warm touch is under my chin, and our eyes are meeting once more as he lifts my gaze.
“Tell Santa, and if you’ve been a good girl, I’ll do my best to fulfill your Christmas wish.”
Good girl. My stomach flutters, but I manage a nod. Cole’s fingers slip from my chin, and instead of returning his hand to the armrest, he settles it on my thigh like I’d wanted before.
The warmth of his touch, the steady hold at my waist, the solid press of his legs beneath me, and his masculine pine scent all blur together, heady and disorienting. It’s like a drug, loosening my tongue so I can finally speak.
“I don’t want to be alone anymore, Santa.”
His mouth pulls tight and brow furrows. “You’re not alone, Vixen.”
The bridge of my nose stings with unexpected emotion. I hadn’t meant to phrase my Christmas wish in that way, but it’s how it came out. I bite my bottom lip shaking my head.
“But I am.” He goes to speak but I stop him. “I’ve got no family, and yes, I have Holly and my coworkers at the IT firm I work at, but most of the time it’s just me. I’ve tried dating, tried finding someone who gets me, sees me, but I can’t even get men to go out. They ghost, they play games, I’m tired. Really tired.”
Cole is silent for a long moment, varying emotions flashing through his eyes that are still intently focused on me. “The men you’re trying to date aren’t men. They’re boys.”
I may not have a dad growing up, but I know “dad advice” when I hear it. Especially since I’ve heard him give it to Holly in the past—mostly over the phone.
My fingers on the back of his neck grip him tighter and I shift on his lap to get more comfortable. His jaw flexes, the veins in his throat bulging with tension. I don’t know if it’s because I’m too heavy, or he’s annoyed.
I sigh. “It doesn’t matter if they’re men or boys, I can’t get them to date me. I can’t even get them to fuck me when I want them to. Not even on a lonely Christmas Eve!”
I snap my lips together, eyes widening at what I just said. I didn’t mean to say that. Just like I shouldn't have confessed that I don’t want to be alone. I was supposed to come here and ask Santa for a man—a one night stand or otherwise. Not to trauma dump on him, then be vulgar.
Cole's hand on my thigh becomes heavy, the pads of his fingers digging harder into my skin. I bet if I wasn’t wearing stockings, I could see the indents of his fingers pushing into the soft flesh.
“Is that really what you came to ask me for?”
One of his dark gray eyebrows cocks at the question, and sharp excitement zips to my core at the tone in his voice. One that wasalmost a warning, like I might be in trouble if it is what I came to ask for.
I move on his lap, my posture stiffening the moment I feel it. Right beneath my pussy, his cock grows hard, the swollen ridge of it teasing me through my dress that’s riding up with every movement, hardly keeping my ass and cunt covered.
I freeze, unsure of what to do. For a second I think that maybe it’s not what I think, that he’s not turned on and this is all some deranged dream, then I feel it again. Along with a subtle twitch of his cock when I shift once more as a final test.
A rumbling growl bursts from Cole’s chest like a wild animal. He holds me still so I can’t move. His face moves closer, the lingering peppermint on his breath becoming stronger as his warm breath coasts across my lips.
“If I have to ask you that question again, Vixen, there will be consequences.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. “Consequences?”
