His hand on my thigh glides up to where the hem of my dress has bunched. He massages the skin, his touch a scorching brand.
Cole’s lips find the shell of my ear and he traces them over the sensitive skin. I shiver from the coarse feel of his beard.
A deep hum filled with devious promises expels from his lips before he says, “Be a good girl and tell Santa the truth.”
“And what do you think that truth is?”
He skims his beard over my ear once more, his grip on me tightening stronger yet. “That you’re a naughty girl, who came here to ask Santa to fuck your needy pussy.”
A gasp that turns into a moan when his cock kicks beneath my ass expels from my lips in a waterfall. I pull back as much as I can, so I can see his eyes. Gone is the shock of when I first arrived unexpectedly, gone is any hesitation that I might have seen earlier, and in them is consuming desire.
His milk chocolate eyes are black, high cheekbones pink, his chest falling up and down rapidly. I feel each breath he takes and his building arousal with every tiny movement I make on his lap.
“Cole—”
“No baby,” he stops me. “You call me Santa when you’re in my cabin, here on my lap.”
I squeeze my thighs together, feeling how soaked my underwear is with the action. I was wet the moment I saw Cole again, but now the cute red bikini pair I chose to wear are for sure ruined.
The endearment, plus asking me to call him Santa, should not be so hot, but it is. The rational part of my brain knows what he’s doing. If he’s Santa, and I’m just a woman who came to innocently ask for a Christmas wish, then he’s not Cole Saint, my friend’s dad, and I’m not Vixen North, his daughter's best friend.
“Santa,” I wet my dry lips, our eyes still connected. His shoulders visibly relax when I call him what he asked, understanding passing between us.
“Yes, Vixen?”
“If you ask me again, what’s the consequence?”
I swear his cock grows harder yet beneath me, whatever he’s thinking about turning him on immensely. His hand on my thigh slides downward until he’s patting my ass, and his lips dip dangerously close to mine, so we’re almost kissing.
“You really want to know, Vixen?”
“Yes, Santa.”
He playfully nips at my lip, and I chase him for a kiss, but he doesn’t allow it.
“I’m going to pull up this little velvet dress of yours.” He rubs the tip of his nose over mine. “Rip those pretty tights open,” he nuzzles my neck. “And spank your ass red until you’re ready to be a good girl for me.”
My heart beats wildly in my chest and another moan slips out when he kisses over my pulse point. I grind on his lap and he pulls back, tsking.
“You want me to spank the naughty out of you, don’t you?”
I slide my fingers up the back of his neck, under the fuzzy white trim of his Santa hat so I can grip the tips of his short hair. I’ve always walked on the wild side with sex, and spanking has been something I found I enjoyed. Imagining Cole taking me over his knee, his big palms spanking me while he talks dirty, I nearly come thinking about it, grinding over his cock to feel it twitch for me again.
“I’ll take that as yes.” Cole swats my outer thigh then pulls me back before I can bury my face in his neck and suck on it—in the hope to leave a souvenir of our time together.
“Go lock the back door,” he swats my outer thigh again. “Then lay over my knees, naughty girl. It’s time I teach you a lesson.”
Chapter Four
AfterIlockthedoor—the sound of it clicking closed a reminder of the naughty thing I’m doing—and return, Cole lowers himself into his throne. I no longer want to call it a chair, because he looks more like a king than Santa.
He rests back, his bright red velvet covered legs parting just enough to hold my generous body. He goes to remove his hat, but I stop him.
“Keep it on.”
He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth cocked in a coy smirk that makes a dimple pop up on his left cheek, one I want to lick. “Say please.”
“Please, Santa?”
