Page 3 of Stalker Santa

Not even some decrepit old fucker who can't even get a boner anymore because I know even the oldest old geyser would turn into a dirty old pervert with one look at Zoe's sweet face. She's enough to bring any limp dick back to life. Even if the man playing Santa had no balls at all I wouldn't want him anywhere near her.

I just can't allow another man to hold her like that, even if it is just balanced precariously on his knee for a stupid Christmas photo.

It was easy for me to land the stupid Santa gig. I beat out all the other contestants by a mile, especially when I offered to work at a lower rate than the rest of the applicants. No doubt the guy who hired me thinks I'm insane or that I just have some weird Santa fetish or something, but I don't really give a fuck what he thinks. This is about protecting my woman from any other man's grubby hands.

When I heard her friend coerce her into this ridiculous little scheme of hers, I knew I couldn't sit idly by. (Yeah, I've got their dorm room bugged. I know it's wrong, but again, I don't give a fuck. When it comes to Zoe, there is no wrong in my book. I'll do what I have to do to get my fix.)

It’s a wonder I haven't flat-out kidnapped her by now. That's how deep my obsession with her runs.

I try to play the part of Santa as best I can so I don't ruin all these little kids’ Christmas with my surly attitude. It's clear from the glares I'm getting from the mothers they know my heart's not in it. Hopefully, the kids don't pick up on it too.

I go through the grueling motions of allowing child after child to sit on my knee while getting their picture taken, my eyes constantly sweeping the vicinity for any glimpse of her. My entire body is taut and on edge as I nervously wait for her to show up.

And then, I finally see her.

She walks in wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a turtleneck sweater the color of pure-driven snow. Her chestnut hair tumbles down around her shoulders in big, soft curls. She looks like the picture-perfect Christmas card.

My heart squeezes at the sight of her. She belongs in a Hallmark movie with a Prince Charming—not in some thriller flick with a stalker like me who's not good enough to lick her shoes.

My heart hammers against my ribcage as she and her friend get in line, giggling and tittering to one another.

I try to focus on the kids and remember to ask them what they want for Christmas as I paste smile after smile on my face, watching her get closer to me in the line. Her friend comes up first and perches daintily on the very edge of my knee.

I barely touch her as I give her a formal nod while our picture is taken. Thankfully, the friend doesn't make any small talk. She just does what she has to do to win her bet and then turns and gives a big thumbs up to Zoe.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I finally get to look into her eyes face to face. I finally get to touch her and smell her up close.

Her cheeks are pink as she walks shyly up to me and gives a little wave. “You must think this is so insane,” she tells me awkwardly as she shuffles from foot to foot.

Her hazel eyes meet mine, and her breath catches. And I swear to God I lose my breath too as I stare at the green, gold, and brown colors swirling in her eyes like a typhoon. I'm drowning in their depths because I'm not strong enough to swim in such beauty, but I’m happy to let her fill my lungs up with her water.

If I die in this moment, I’ll be content that her eyes are the last thing I saw.

“God, you must think this is so weird.” She lets out a self-conscious laugh. “My friend here,” she nods over to her roommate, “she has this silly bet going with her brother, and well, she dragged me into it, and I don't even know why I'm explaining this to you…” She bites her lip and looks down.

I clear my throat, but my voice still comes out gruff when I reassure her, “It's no problem at all, princess.”

Her eyes flick up to mine with surprise when I call her princess, and then she studies my face closer, her eyes wideningwhen she realizes I'm not the old geezer she was expecting. If possible, her cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink.

My god, she's even more adorable up close than she is from afar.

I pat my knee. “Why don't you hop on up here and tell me if you've been a good girl…” I can't keep the sexual innuendo from slipping into my voice, and I feel Zoe's body tremble as she perches herself on the edge of my knee.

As soon as her ass hits my knee, I grab her waist in my hands and pull her back against me. Her waist is so tiny my hands almost span all the way around it as I pull her more firmly back against me.

She gasps as I slide her along my knee until the side of her calf is nestled right in between my legs. Her mouth falls open into a little “o” when she feels the prominent bulge I certainly can't contain. Her eyes flick to mine hesitantly, and fuck I should be mortified, ashamed of myself for getting a boner for her here in public like this, but I'm not.

Her cherry cola scent is wrapping around me intoxicatingly, and I can't stop staring into her hazel eyes.

I finally tear my gaze away from them long enough to take in the rest of her delicate features. Her pert little nose, her high cheekbones, her puffy pink lips.

Sticky sperm leaks from the head of my cock. If I don’t stop my train of thought right now, I'm going to jizz in my pants right here in the middle of this crowded studio.

“You’re not an old man,” she murmurs.

My lips quirk up into a smile. “No,” I tell her huskily, “but you are a princess, aren't you?”

She blushes again before the cameraman impatiently motions for our attention.

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