Filthy Scrooge

I peered up to find her chest rising and falling faster. Her fingers twisted into the crumpled velvet of her skirt.

“That’s right. Hold that skirt up for me, Miss Kane.”

Her head thunked against the door again. Her frosted pink lids covered her huge eyes. The fringe of dark lashes lay against her freckle-spattered cheeks. Innocence and the gloss of New York shouldn’t be attractive to me. Not at this point in my life.

I didn’t trust the innocence.

I hadn’t for a long time.

“Open your eyes.” The husky anger in my voice made her eyes pop open. “No pretending it didn’t happen when that door opens.”

“I…”

Her words trailed off as I fastened my mouth over the top of her lips. I slid my tongue through her wetness and dragged in a long breath of her. Woman and cinnamon with that salty hit of lust arcing between us.

It was there last night.

It was here now.

I lifted her knee over my shoulder to get closer. To taste more of her.

Her fingers went right for my hair and she tugged hard. She dragged in a breath and held it. Her heartbeat was on my tongue as I feasted between her legs.

She kept dragging in big gulps of air without releasing them. As if she was sucking all the oxygen in to use without letting her body process it.

I gripped her ass until she cried out from the tight hold and finally let out a ragged breath. Then all bets were off. I dove deep, lapping up her endless liquid heat. After every thrust of my tongue, I backed off to tease her clit and squeeze her ass at the same time.

Her hips went from jerky shock to a smooth undulating roll with every flick of my tongue. We had an instant matching rhythm again just like last night.

The irrational anger of just how perfect she fit me was banked under her flavor. I tamped down the urge to let her fly. I knew her cum would taste sweet, but I wanted her as wound up as I was.

No release.

I wanted her hungry for me the next time I touched her.

I drew the material back over her swollen lips and sunk my teeth into the soft skin of her inner thigh.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s time to get down to the party, Miss Kane.”

“What?” She shook her head. The blue of her eyes went from hazy to ice. “You sadistic bastard. You did that on purpose.”

I stood, my lips and beard still wet from her. I knew that even if I washed my face, she’d still linger—cinnamon and spice, with a hint of vanilla. I crowded her at the door again, my mouth hovering over hers. “I did. Incentive to finish up our Santa and Hot Elf routine.”

Her nostrils flared and my death—or at least maiming—was alive in her eyes. I grinned and took a step back. I reached between my shoulder blades and dragged my shirt off. I didn’t have the patience for buttons or any more layers. My skin was a riot of heat from unrequited lust.

What I wanted to do was to wrap her legs around my waist and fuck her into my door. Instead I went back to my closet and pulled down the box with the last of my Santa gear.

It had been a long time since I’d donned my beard and wig.

Back then I’d taken care to ensure that the children would never know it was me. I was the jolly old man with white hair, a ready smile for them, and a sack full of presents. I’d believed in the hope and light of the season.

I curled my fingers into a fist before releasing the locks on the box.

She’d better be worth this.

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