Page 29 of The Billionaire's Naughty List

And by gift, I mean me. But they don’t need to know that.

SeattleNeil: don’t you mean unwrap?laughing emoji

My lips twitch as I pull my hand up my thigh, dragging the sheer material north. Closing my eyes, I imagine that it’s Elliot touching me. A soft caress that makes me wet with need.

But then, rougher as he grows impatient. I slide a hand up to my breast, kneading it, swiping a thumb across the aching peak. My moan is loud in the silent room.

Shoving my hand between my thighs, I slide a finger down the center of my satin panties. The slight friction is such a fucking tease. Pressure but no real pleasure. But I continue stroking myself because I like the stimulation.

I lose myself for a minute, until my panties are soaked and need coils tight in my muscles. Only then do I open my eyes, immediately seeking out Elliot. There’s a bottle of olive oil on the counter next to him. I didn’t even hear him reach for it. But his cock glistens as he fucks his fist.

Spreading my thighs, I match his speed, imagining my finger was that magnificent length gliding over my pussy lips, brushing my clit.

When I can’t take the teasing any longer, I yank the crotch of my panties to the side, tip my pelvis and shove two fingers into my pussy. I’m obscenely wet. Will the camera pick that up?

I glance at my tablet and skim the comments.

MisterNorthPole01: so hot

NickTheMixer69: come for us Miss C!!!

TorontoGuy_: I wish she’d cover herself in frosting.

KingChristmasMo: I’ll cover her in frosting

There’s only one man I want to cover me in his frosting, and he’s standing five feet away. Phantom flames lick over my skin and I pick up the pace, urgency pumping through my veins. I’m ready to end this live.

Circling my clit with my middle finger, my muscles convulse as I hit just the right spot. “This feels so good.”

TorontoGuy_: look how wet she is

I glance past the screen. Elliot slows his hand to long, languorous strokes. Which is the opposite of me. I’m racing toward climax as fast as my finger can go, no longer caring about the performance or the shot, the lighting, nothing. Only coming. Letting Elliot see what he does to me. What I do when I think about him.

My orgasm crashes into me and my muscles go so tight I start to slip off the counter. This isn’t the ending I wanted, but I’ll take it. Smirking at the camera, I give them my naughtiest “Merry Christmas to me.”

Then I make a quick show of tucking my tit back in the cup, righting the bustier. “Thanks for helping me make Christmas cookies. I’m off to wrap that package. See you next time.”

Tapping the stop button, I sag against the counter, the remnants of my orgasm tingling through my veins. But since I never quite trust that I’ve managed to stop the live feed, I put the tablet face down, tripod and all.

Then Elliot’s behind me, his hands on either side of me bracing against the countertop. “That was so fucking hot, Miss Claus.”

Pleasure purrs through me at the nickname. He’s playing along and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’m such a slut for Christmas.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

His cock slides up the slippery fabric, grinding against my ass. There’s a deep ache between my thighs. The kind that makes me want to spread my legs and shove a big toy inside and ride it until I’m a sweaty mess.

Luckily, I don’t need a toy anymore. Oh, I’ll keep them around. Elliot travels a fair amount.

“I more than enjoyed it.” He sweeps my hair to the side. “You’re so creative. Poised. Sexy.”

His voice gets deeper with each word and there’s a reciprocal heaviness beneath my breastbone. He trails kisses over my shoulder, sending a shudder through me. The sensation that books talk about? Weak knees? I totally get it now.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks. “It looked like you did.”

Those big hands slide up my torso and close over my breasts. I don’t care that they’re oil slicked and probably ruining this outfit. He can buy me a thousand more.

Yanking the cups down, my breasts pop free and he tweaks my nipples until I’m a moaning mess.

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