Page 37 of Naughty Santa Daddy

I join a very stoic biker on the bed. Paying no attention to me whatsoever, Braxton continues to stare blankly at the ceiling, lost in his own world.

“What’s wrong, Brax?” With a slight grimace, I lift a strand of my hair to my nose, hoping I don’t detect any hint of vomit. Nope, all clean from my shower, even if it reeks of peppermint from the Christmas-themed shampoo. My mouthtastes fresh, but also a bit weird, from Granny's gingerbread-flavored toothpaste. Drawing a deep breath, I’m met with yet another fragrance: pumpkin rolls being baked in the clubhouse.

Luckily, it doesn't make me sick this time, as it did when Braxton was at church. I smile as I hear Mariah Carey playing, wondering how the bikers are managing Granny’s stringing lights on the bar.

Granny not only packed a bag for me, as Braxton insisted we join him at the Jokers’ MC, but she also brought along as much of her Christmas as she could fit in Miller's truck. The fact that I have now also put a sweet old woman in danger eats at me. But I shove the thought away and let the robe that resembles Santa's coat slide down from my shoulders to pool around my waist.

Braxton, this mountain of a biker, buck naked, in all his glory, is hesitant for once, even when he sees my bare breasts. However, the way his hands clutch the ridiculous reindeer sheets, a gift from his granny, reveals his unmistakable longing.

I utter the magic words that never fail: “Fuck me.”

His lips pursed, he tilts his head to meet my gaze and stares into my eyes. His blue pools soften. “Alex, the doctor said you’ve been through a lot, and she ain’t wrong. The kidnapping. That bruise on your thigh is so purple, it's practically black.” His hand glides up my leg, pushing aside the robe.

Damn, my bruise looks terrible. Yeah, it stings as well. Fuck, at the moment, I really don't care. I bite my lip, consumed by a desperate desire for him, wanting to feel every inch of his cock inside me.

“The doc said you gotta rest up,” Braxton's voice rumbles. “I was so rough before. What if I…?”

As I take his calloused hand, I give it a gentle squeeze before delicately placing it over my heart. “The doctor also said everything is fine.”

Braxton gently cups my breast, his thumb tracing soft circles over my tight areola.

Sighing in pleasure, I watch his large fingers quiver. I look back at his face as his features turn dark with desire. As I inhale deeply, a sensation of wetness and tingling builds between my thighs, making me wriggle uncontrollably. Man, I can't resist this hot daddy. I need him to fill me up.

“We’ll be careful. You’ll be gentle,” I try.

“No…” Braxton takes his hand away.

Feeling rejected, I turn my back on him.

He speaks with strain. “Alex, I can’t be tender. I’m ready to pound your pussy so hard, we’ll break this bed like we almost did my other bed the last time… Look, I can't risk hurting you or the baby, plain and simple.”

I snap my neck around. He’s super serious, and it’s kinda scary. Reaching out, I touch his beard, which has gotten bushier since I first met him, before I crawl over to nuzzle him. Snuggling into his rock-hard side, I flip the robe to the floor. We’re both totally naked as I lay my head on his perfect chest and hear his heart pounding.

“Why are you all sprawled out like this if you aren't planning on fucking me?” My fingers lightly graze his impressive abs as I pose my question.

“Like what?” Braxton likes to give me a hard time.

“Showing off the North Pole.” I talk about his massive boner as I resist the urge to grab it. “Thought you were ready to play naughty or nice.”

“Wanting to ain’t the issue here. Believe me, I've been fantasizing about it, but your papá’s words got me pondering things.”

“And what did he say?” I ask what I’ve been dreading. There’s a reason I jumped in the shower while Braxton spoke with Papá. “And more importantly, what all did you tell him?”

“Everything,” he says, point blank.

I react with a horrified gasp. How could he?My parents know I’m pregnant.

“Alex, baby, I ain’t dumb. I ain’t lying to the head of the mafia. I want to be around to watch our baby grow up.”

Blowing out a breath as if I'm in labor, I brace myself. “And?”

“Your mamá’s ecstatic.”

Imagining Mamá already organizing the nursery and christening, I grin against Braxton's chest. Her utmost desire is for me to embrace the same lifestyle as hers—being a full-time mother, devoted wife, and matriarch of the family. “And Papá?”

“Your papá shouted some words I ain’t never heard before. But I got the meaning all the same.”

It's never good when Papá speaks Italian. “He’ll come around.”

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