Page 19 of Santa Daddy, I'm Not the One

“I knew there was a reason you were here,” he whispered, as though talking to himself. “Landon, isn’t there a part of you that still believes?”

“How can I?” I said bitterly. “You forgot all about me on Christmas. I didn’t even get coal. You treated me like everyone else did, like I was nothing but a bother throughout my entire childhood.” I puffed, my chest aching. “At least, that’s how I’d feel if I believed. Betrayed. Bitter. So, it’s best not to believe.”

“Landon, that’s not true. Even naughty kids get gifts for Christmas. We just do a little extra for those who’ve been good.”

I shook my head. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not. I don’t know what happened, but you can believe me. I forget no one. I’m searching for answers to see what happened.”

“Don’t bother. It was so long ago. Who can stay mad at Santa forever, right?”

“Nils,” he said. “Call me Nils.”

“Okay.”

“I think you were brought here for a reason, and we need to find that reason.”

My cheeks flamed. “Other than me opening my legs for you, you mean?”

He dropped his hand to my bare thigh and caressed it. Heat radiated through me from the spot where he touched so gently. “Yes, other than that.” He traced circles on my skin. “Though I admit that’s a distraction. I have to remind myself there’s still a lot to do that doesn’t involve spreading you open right now and making love to you.”

I inhaled sharply, and my cock grew hard. With careful precision, as though giving me a chance to back out, he raised my shirt.

“Such a pretty little cock,” he said. “Perfect for a pretty little doll.”

“Nils…”

“Dammit. I didn’t mean right this minute, but I want to. Do you want to?”

I nodded, my breathing shallow. “Yes.”

He shifted over my body, lowering himself on top of me and between my spread thighs. He pressed his soft lips firmly against mine, his beard tickling my skin, and his large hands roamed under my shirt, making me hot and horny and way too needy.

“Please,” I begged shamelessly, writhing beneath him. He was rubbing my nipples, making them into hard points.

“What do you want?” he whispered into my mouth.

“You. I want you to fuck me, Santa.”

With a groan, he deepened the kiss and shoved his hands between me and the mattress to grab my ass and squeeze.

“So perfect. Such a sweet little body just begging to be fucked. Tell me, Landon. Do you like it slow and steady, or do you like being pounded hard?”

“Hard, please.”

He chuckled. “So this is what it takes to make you polite?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he caught it with his lips and sucked on it. I moaned and gripped his arm.

“Stay there.”

He got off the bed, discarded his clothes piece by piece—red cotton tunic falling to the floor, revealing arms corded with muscle, veins mapping their way down, muscular forearms to hands large enough to wrap around my waist. A thick mat of snowy white hair covered his chiseled torso, leading down tohis taut stomach. Thick nipples protruded, making my mouth water.

Oh God. I wanted to lick and suckle them so much. Would he let me?

His trousers followed, sliding down solid thighs. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and the cock I’d felt earlier sprang up toward his belly with a slight curve. It was definitely well proportioned to the rest of him. His cock was almost as thick as my skinny arms.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I won’t last.” Nils walked toward a drawer next to his bed and returned with a small bottle. As he slathered lube onto his cock, my common sense returned.

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