Page 50 of My Secret Santa Daddies

One hand vanishes beneath the water, trailing slow, sensual paths up her thighs. My cock jumps to attention. I shouldn’t be watching this—shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

But the memories are there, flooding through me—the way she used to feel beneath my fingers, the way she’d tremble when I kissed her neck. The memory of her taste on my lips haunts me.

I haven’t had anyone since losing Anna. I haven’t seen anyone like this in a long while.

Her pink lips open as she pants and her brows tug together. I know right then that she’s close. It’s the same face she’s always made, and the animal in me roars to life.

My cock is throbbing now, my hand moves down to palm myself under my pants, stroking along with her motions.

I should stop. I should look away. But I’ve always been an asshole when it comes to following the rules.

I keep watching, greedy bastard that I am, until I’m breathing just as hard as she is, and the tension becomes unbearable. I pump my cock harder, imagining it’s thrusting in her. Wishing more than ever, that I was inhaling the air that steamed upward from her mouth with each exhale.

Her gasping moans are muffled by the pane of glass between us, but I can still hear the need in them, and taste it on my tongue. I fantasize about her pussy clenching around my cock and imagine her nipples hardening in the moonlight.

I growl low in my throat. I know she can’t hear me over the storm and jets of the hot tub, but her hips move faster, grinding against her hand. Her tits bob over the water, and I want so badly to taste them. To tasteher. I want to feel her hips rise and fall as she comes against my mouth.

The lust that I’ve been trying to bury for years roars to the surface, consuming me whole.

The tension builds in my body, my balls feel heavy and tight as she arches her back. Her head tips back, her long hair cascading through the water like a waterfall.

At that moment, she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I can't remember the last time I’ve been this hard. I match her rhythm, my hand a poor substitute for the real thing, but it will do for now. I imagine burying my cock inside her, feeling her wetness envelop me.

Her mouth opens and I know she’s groaning in desire, and I’m lost, stroking myself until I’m close—so fucking close. Then her eyes suddenly flutter open, and dart upward locking onto me.

They widen in shock and she stops moving.

I freeze, my hand still inside my pants as I stare at her in horror.

She tries to yank herself out of the water.

“Shit!” I mutter.

“Griffin, what the fuck!” I hear her shout outside as she nearly face plants, scrambling to run inside the lodge.

“God dammit.”

The back door swings open and her footsteps fly toward me.

I yank up my pants, still at full mast, ready to greet her just in time as she storms inside, flinging the bedroom door open so hard it slams against the wall.

I turn to face her, one hand still on my zipper, making sure my cock is concealed.

“You fucking pervert!” she hisses.

“I-I…” I stutter, caught red-handed, and dick-in-hand. Literally.

Her face is flushed, and her chest is heaving with anger or embarrassment or both.

“What the actual hell?” she finally manages to say. Her fingers tighten their hold on the flimsy towel wrapped around her naked body, barely covering her ass and tits.

“Look—you’re the one the fucking touching yourself right out in the open.”

“I didn’t think anyone was home yet and Jack’s passed out.”

“So you started masturbating in my hot tub?”

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