Jingle My Balls (Hot-Bites 4)

She’s got all those locks bound up in a damn bun, but you can tell it’s long and wavy. Shit is bronze, and auburn and other colors I can’t begin to name. It’s like she’s got the fucking sun trapped inside of it .

Perfection .

I expected her to give in to me right away, but she must like the game we’re playing. I can dig it. I always did like a woman with an imagination. So when she starts squirming I decide to go with my instinct. Usually women wound as tight as this one have a bit of a freaky side to them. I swat the side of her thigh hard, and keep pressure on her leg .

“Keep still,” I order her, making my voice deep, commanding. If she wants to play this game then she needs to know I’m in charge. And because she paid for the Santa fantasy, I add, “Or Santa will put you on the naughty list .”

“Are you deranged?” she asks, pretending to be outraged. She can’t hide the tremble in her body, however. She can’t hide the way she shivers from the contact, or the way her calves tighten under my hand, or even the way her ass and hips curl into the air toward me. And she really can’t hide those fucking nipples, which push against her dress .

“Santa has to punish naughty girls.” I grin and stand, taking the cigarette out of my mouth and crushing it under my boot. “What’s your name, honey?” I ask, ignoring the fact I already know—after all, I’m playing a role here .

“Holl—Holly,” she whispers, clearly flustered. It surprises me that she doesn’t give me her real name. But I like that she’s sticking to the fantasy and apparently the Christmas theme, using the name Holly. She fits the description on the ticket, red hair, green eyes, wearing black fuck-me heels, and carrying a briefcase. I dismiss the thought that maybe, just fucking maybe I got the wrong girl. She likes to play and I’m definitely in the mood to play— with her .

“Holly, I think it’s time I show you exactly what Santa does with bad little girls .”

“I… You do?” she asks, her eyes opening wide and getting round, showing off the green beauties that a man could get lost in .

“I do indeed,” I tell her, letting my hand move farther up her leg. Her body tenses, her hand going half-heartedly to stop me, but when I push under her dress, going high on her thigh, she doesn’t protest .

“What does… What does Santa do?” she asks in a whisper-soft tone and I send up a thanks to the powers that be that Brian called in sick .

“Santa makes them wet.” I grin, letting my finger graze against the silky fabric of her pantyhose. I really want to tear the fuckers away so I can touch her panties—ones I know are nice and soaked. I bet she’s all primed for me. But even though her hose are keeping me away from what I really want, I can feel how damp they are. Her face turns pink and I know exactly how my touch is affecting her. I know her dirty little secret now. She’s definitely into her fantasy and she’s ready for more. I’m going to take her back to the penthouse I reserved and I’m definitely thinking I’ll give Holly more than she paid for. It goes against every rule my company has, but Holly is making me forget about all of that. She’s even making me feel generous .

She’s got my cock harder than fucking steel .

If little Holly here plays her cards right, this Santa might just decorate her pretty little body for Christmas …

With my cum .

Chapter 3

Holly

I cannot believe what I am doing. I followed Santa out of Central Park and to this swanky building, his big muscular body draped in that hideous red crushed velvet outfit, yet still making me so wet I am not about to say no to what is going to happen. I should though. I don’t know him, which makes this crazy. Yet he ignites this fire inside of me the likes of which I’ve never experienced before .

The rational side of my brain says he could be a serial killer, tempting me with his holiday sexiness and making me forget the whole stranger danger rule .

But then another side of me, the one that controls the fact I want him to fuck me so hard he makes me sing fa-la-la-la in a high pitched scream, overrides everything else .

And that is how I find myself in this penthouse suite, staring at a man I know I want between my legs more than my next breath, and praying his candy cane is as big as I am picturing .