Page 19 of Yours to Ho Ho Hold
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I hardly recognize myself right now. I’m not the woman who hooks up with hot strangers she meets on an airplane. I’m by no means a sex vixen confident in the art of seduction. Hell, I’ve only had a handful of sexual partners as it is. I guess getting cheated on has that affect sometimes. But when I’m with Drew, I feel like I could be.
I feel like I could be anyone I want to be when I’m with him, like I’m not stupid for failing or making mistakes. When he looks at me with those sea glass eyes and that cocky smirk, I feel powerful and confident. And the craziest part is the longer I’m around him the more I’m starting to believe it. Drew makes me feel special and even if it’s just a charade to get me in bed with him, I know without a doubt in my mind that he’ll at least make it worth it.
He walks me backward until my knees bump on the edge of the bed, and I fall back on the mattress.
“Wait right here. Don’t move.”
He goes to his suitcase, but I can’t see what he’s doing because the room’s too dark, the only light coming from the open window that overlooks the picturesque, snowy night sky.
“Are you ready to sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you want for Christmas?” I look up to see Drew wearing his Santa suit, only impossibly more disheveled and erotic than last time, complete with a hat, boots, and a large sack he’s thrown over his shoulder.
I almost burst out laughing, but then his jacket parts, giving me a front row seat to his sculpted chest and a better look at all those glorious tattoos. I’ve never seen art quite as exquisite as Drew’s ink covered body, all those rippling muscles flexing and twisting as he moves toward me. It doesn’t feel fair for someone to be so insanely hot. But I realize that what really sets him over the edge is his sweet personality. He’s always looking on the bright side. The guy’s a golden retriever in human form and would do anything to cheer someone up. He just may be the sweetest, kindest, and most thoughtful person I’ve ever met.
He saunters toward me and drops his sack at his feet, never breaking character as he says, “Iaskedyou if you wanted to sit on my lap, but I guess you were waiting for me to tell you.” He spins the wooden desk chair around where it’s directly in front of the fireplace, then clicks the remote, igniting warm flames.
Holy shit. Am I hallucinating, or is this the exact scene from the book I was reading?
When I look at him, he gives me a wink like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Then he taps his lap and crooks his finger in my direction. “I said, get over here and sit on my fucking lap unless you’d prefer me to tie you down and force it out of you. I’ve been waiting all year to have that pretty pussy sitting on my cock and I can tell by the way you’re pressing your thighs together that you’re just as eager. You don’t have to pretend to be a good girl tonight, Holly. In fact, I hope you’ll show me just how naughty you can be. It’ll be our little secret.”
That line is all I need to hear to confirm he is indeed reenacting one of my favorite sex scenes of all time. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read that book over the years, always rereading it at Christmas time, fantasizing about this exact scenario.
So, I do what any warm-blooded romance book enthusiast would do.
I kick off my shoes—exactly how she did in the book—and walk over to him, straddling my legs on either side of him, and sit on Santa’s lap.
“Good girl.” He tucks my hair behind my ears, then lifts my chin as he stares into my eyes. “You are so fucking beautiful and I’m going to enjoy every second of this. I’ve been watching you for a long time hoping you’d be ready for my visit. But you already knew that didn’t you? All those nights you left your curtains cracked in your bedroom, taking off your clothes and putting on a little show for me right in front your window. You knew I’d be watching, knew I was always watching. It’s why you waited until you were all alone before touching yourself, those little whimpers of pleasure you made right before you’d come. Don’t think I wasn’t watching you, memorizing you, listening to the way you cried out my name as you fell over the edge.”
He traces a thumb over my jaw tilting my eyes up to meet his. “Say it. Say my name you dirty little slut.”
I bite my lip, my body trembling with need and suck in a hiss. “Santa Claus.” My words come out no more than a whisper and then his lips are on mine, hungry and needy as he nips by bottom lip between his teeth and pulls away with a satisfied grin.
“Such a good little slut. You’ve had your fun teasing me and now it’s my turn to play with you.”
I try to focus on his words, but his hard length creates the most distracting pleasure as I rock my hips in gentle circles. His hands move to my hips as he flicks open the button of my jeans and folds the waistband down to expose my lower belly.
“Tell me, Holly, what is it you want for Christmas this year? Why’d you beg me to come visit you again? Did you not get your fill of me last Christmas?” He rubs his thumb along the line of my exposed flesh just above my panties, sending a jolt of arousal in its wake, and I feel myself getting wetter by the second. I’ll be a blubbering mess by the time this man’s done unwrapping me. The thought has me charged up and antsy for what comes next. I don’t care where he touches me. I just need his hands on me like I need my next breath.
I trail a finger down his chest and bite my lip as I muster up the courage to say the next line, whether I’ll give him what he wants and play along. I move my hand down his chest, along his never-ending abs until I reach his belt. He sucks in a breath.
“I want Santa’s cock inside me, filling me up with his Christmas magic. I want you to break me apart and put me back together. I want you to be your good girl and your dirty slut, and I want you to use me just like you did last time. Please, Santa.”
A hint of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes twinkle with satisfaction. “Now, that’s a hefty request. Are you sure you can handle all of that?”
I wiggle against his hard erection and begin to wonder if it will take the same magic he uses to get down the chimney to fit inside my poor, neglected vagina. But then he’s kissing me again, making all my thoughts and worries fly right out the window.
He lifts the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head in between kisses as his hands move up my bare stomach and slide between my breasts. He pauses, savoring my body with each layer he removes.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, breaking character.
His eyes search my face, and then he finally says, “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I’m wondering if I’ve died and gone to heaven because I don’t think anything could ever top this moment. I don’t know how the fuck I convinced you to do this with me but fuck, Holly, I don’t think I’ll ever get this image out of my head. I’m the luckiest bastard in the whole goddamn world. I want to be gentle but it’s taking all my willpower to keep from taking you right here.” I don’t miss the way his hands tremble as he touches me like he’s liable to explode at any moment and somehow that knowledge gives me the last bit of confidence I need.
I shake my head, moving his hand over my racing heart. “I don’t want you to be gentle. I trust you, Drew. You know exactly what I want you to do to me so don’t even think about holding yourself back. I want all of you and I want you to show me everything I’ve been missing. So, what are you waiting for, Santa?”
“Jesus, Holly.” His mouth crashes into mine as he flicks the hook of my bra. It falls open in my lap. “Fuck,” he mutters as he takes me in, his hands trailing along the soft flesh of my breast before running his thumb across my sensitive nipple. “Fuck, your tits are perfect.” He groans as he squeezes them and then he stands up and drags my jeans and panties off in one motion.
He sits back down on the chair my now completely naked body atop his fully clothed one as his hands cup my ass pressing our bodies closer. It’s so erotic and I feel like I’m in the story, only my version is better because my Santa is Drew and he doesn’t exist solely between the pages of a book.
The warm fire feels heavenly against my chilled skin as I grind against him, feeling pleasure in every cell of my body, all the way down to my toes.
