Page 4 of Celebrating the Season

I bit my lip, torn between excitement and a tiny flicker of apprehension. “Maybe I need someone to teach me a lesson in self-control,” I murmured, my impulsive nature getting the better of me.

Santa’s grin was positively wicked. “Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you have no idea what you’re in for.”

2

ELLERY

My cock had been rock hard from the moment Boaz parked his luscious ass on my lap. He was five foot ten or so of trouble with an on-point flirting game, a sensuality that had me engaged in detailed erotic daydreams about what I wanted to do to him, and a filthy mouth that would make a sailor blush. In other words, he was exactly my type.

I loved his quick-witted banter, his quirky mind, and the way he made crystal clear what he wanted. Me. And while I needed to make sure he knew who was in charge here—hint: it wasn’t him—I had no intention of rejecting him. Sexual partners weren’t easy to find in this town, to begin with, but he also pushed all myhell, yesbuttons.

“What brought you to this party?” I asked him. He was the youngest guest by far, so I couldn’t quite figure out the connection.

“One of the grooms is my dad.” He pointed at the man who’d introduced himself as Barrett Robson.

“Gotcha. You okay with this?”

“If ‘this’ refers to him getting married to Hawk, then hell, yes. Hawk’s amazing, and he makes my dad happier than ever. If ‘this’ refers to this party, however, I’m gonna need a lot of alcohol to get me through this. Well, I would’ve until you walked in and brought some much-needed distraction.”

“Glad I could provide you with some necessary entertainment.”

“Are you local?”

“Yes, though new to town. Moved here six months ago.”

“So, what do you do for fun around here besides playing Santa? It’s not exactly a bustling place, is it?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised by the mischief a guy can get into in a small town like this.” I winked at him. “There’s hiking, fishing, and, if you’re desperate, Bingo night at the church. Although I’m told that one should proceed with caution, the stakes can get pretty high.”

“Jesse’s Uncle Desmond is addicted to Bingo. That’s him right there.” Boaz pointed at an older guy chatting with one of the grooms. I’d seen him in town before. “He says it’s the perfect spot to find women.”

I snorted. “I’m sure he’s right.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been into girls. Not even a little bit. Even as a six-year-old, I knew I liked boys. How about you? Are you gay, bi, pan, or something else? I try to keep up with all the terms, but there are so many new ones that I get lost sometimes. A few weeks ago, a friend came out as sapiosexual, which I’d never heard about, but it turns out that’s the name for when you’re attracted to intelligence. Personally, I don’t get it, but power to her. I mean, I like older guys, so I looked up the term for that. It was gerontosexual, but that sounds awful and like I want to fuck an eighty-year-old, so I’m not using that. But other than age, all I care about is whether they know how to use the tool god gave ’em. If you can give me a good dicking, I couldn’t care less if you can hold a riveting conversation. And?—”

“Breathe,” I told him, growing a tad concerned by how long he was talking without taking in oxygen.

He sucked in a breath, then another one. “Sorry.” He ducked his head. “I have ADHD. Makes it hard to shut up sometimes.”

Something soft bloomed in my chest. “Don’t apologize. I like listening to you talk. Your mind fascinates me. I was merely concerned about you passing out from a lack of oxygen.”

A tentative smile tugged at his lips. “Most people find it annoying.”

“Most people are idiots,” I replied matter-of-factly. I grabbed his hips and forced him to sit still. “But you need to stop wriggling that plump little ass of yours against my cock, or we’re gonna have a mess on our hands.”

He grinned. “You mean a mess in your pants.”

“You’d better believe I’d let you clean it up.”

His eyes darkened. “That’s not exactly a deterrent.”

The little minx. “You’re determined to get on that naughty list, aren’t you?”

He bit his lips, his brown eyes all doe-like in pretended innocence. “Maybe I do need a spanking, Santa…”

“Be careful, boy. This Santa does bite…”

He swallowed. “Is that a promise?”

---