Page 38 of Naughty Santa

“You didn’t let me tap out,” she teased.

“Need you. Now,” he told her, wishing he had the breath to laugh at her joke. He reached for her thigh and pulled it over his legs until she was straddling his lap.

“Yes.” She kissed him, her mouth sweet and sticky from the blow job.

Joe plucked her nipple, also sticky from their play, and slid his other hand between them to tease her clit.

“Now, Joe, please.”

He reached for his jeans pocket and pulled out a condom. They both worked together to get it on, and then she shifted forward. Reaching between them, she positioned his cock at her entrance, then lowered herself down, taking him deep.

“Damn, you feel good,” he told her gruffly.

“Yeah, this North Pole is perfect,” she said with a grin, even though her voice was breathy.

Joe pinched her ass. She’d gotten a naughty Santa quip in there anyway.

Then he gripped her hips, and she grasped his shoulders, and they started moving. She rode him fast and hard, and soon they were both coming, calling out each other’s names.

Paris slumped against him, her arms around his neck and her face in the curve of his shoulder.

He ran his hands up and down her back, breathing in the scent of her hair, sex, and peppermint hot chocolate.

Joe was never going to be able to drink it again without thinking of her.

He was okay with that.

CHAPTER 10

“What doyou mean they aren’t there? I placed that order before I left L.A.” Paris listened as the manager of her pet boutique tried to explain why the bedazzled dog collars shipment was late.

“Did you call the supplier?” Paris asked. “Those are our biggest sellers around the holidays.”

Dammit. She didn’t have time for this. The holiday party was tonight, and she’d spent the past three days decking every damn hall...well...aisle in the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed to get ready for it.

Christmas music was playing throughout the entire store this week, though in keeping with the country theme of the Feed and Seed side, Alan Jackson was crooning about a Honky Tonk Christmas.

Back in Cali, she was solidly into alternative rock, and her playlist included Imagine Dragons and Panic at the Disco, but damn if country music wasn’t starting to grow on her. She flipped through Lydia’s CDs—Jesus, she still used CDs to play music—and pulled out a couple more country Christmas CDs for the party, George Strait for Sandy because she had a serious thing for that guy and Kenny Chesney for Jaden. Okay, fine...Chesney was for her.

“Earth to Paris,” her manager, Janice, said so loudly she had to pull her phone away from her ear. “Are you even listening?”

Paris hadn’t been because, shit, this was what she paid Janice to handle. She was up to her eyeballs in eggnog and tinsel at the moment and finding it very difficult to run two businesses in two different states. “Text me the number of the company. I’ll call them first thing in the morning and see if I can speed up delivery.”

“When are you coming back?”

Janice’s question hung in the air. Mainly because Paris couldn’t answer it. She hadn’t had another nibble on the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed since the idiots from Indianapolis had come, seen, and then not called back, and God only knew when she’d find someone else interested in a shop like this.

“This really isn’t a good time,” Paris said. “I’ll take care of the collars and call you back tomorrow.” She hung up, frustrated as hell.

Sandy came out of the back workroom with her arms weighted down with colorfully wrapped packages.

“Let me help you with those,” Paris said, rushing over to relieve her of half a dozen boxes.

“Oh, thank you, dear. I was trying to keep up with the presents, but the shop was busier than usual today, and I fell behind. I swear it was a revolving door of ladies dropping goodies off. I just need to add these to Santa’s sack.”

The Ladies Auxiliary of the North Pole Fire Department apparently held countless fundraisers throughout the year so that each child who attended the town’s holiday social would receive a gift from Santa. According to Sandy, Lydia had started the tradition and the party the first year she’d opened the store, and nothing—not even the blizzard ten years earlier—had stopped Santa from coming to the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed to deliver presents to the good children of North Pole.

Joe had filled her in on twenty-plus years of holiday party highlights last night as the two of them cuddled on her couch, Louis on Joe’s lap, Roscoe on hers. It had felt ridiculously domestic, and she’d loved it. Loved listening to him talk about past holidays. He’d been a kid himself when the tradition of the party had started, and his first gift from Santa had been a hacky sack, which cracked her up. Even more so when Joe confessed he still had it, and he was kick-ass at it. She tried to convince him that wasn’t the sort of thing you told people, but he accused her of being jealous of his mad skills.

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