Page 35 of My Not-So-Secret Santa

“You,” she whimpers.“You, Luke.”

That’s not my name.I want to shout it and kiss her until she recognizes me.But I can’t.And maybe my touch is a little rougher because of it.A little meaner.She likes it, though.She grinds on my lap, her hands clutching my thighs as she rubs against me.

While my left hand is busy playing with her pussy, my right hand slides up to cup her breasts, first over her dress and then underneath, inside her bra.Her nipples are hard, and I pinch them, one and then the other.She cries out, but she lifts an arm behind her and wraps it around my neck, so I know she doesn’t want me to stop.

“How many of my fingers do you want?”I slide one into her tight pussy, my breath catching just as loudly as hers does at the intrusion.“Do you want another?”

“Y-y-yessss.”

She moves restlessly against my chest, turning and trying to capture my mouth with hers.But we can’t have that, can we?I pull my hand out from under her bra and wrap my fingers around her throat, pinning her head to my shoulder.

“You’re going to hold still and take it, naughty girl.”I’ve never done Santa kink before, and it shouldn’t work, but she groans and pushes herself down on my fingers.“That’s right.Fuck my hand.Your pussy’s the only thing you’re allowed to move, and you only get to do that on my fucking fingers.”

And fuck, does she ever, rocking herself against me as I find her clit with my thumb, pressing and circling while she loses her mind.I’m about to lose my mind too.My cock strains upward, desperate to sink into that tight channel, but I force myself to think about her, only her, and not the heat flooding my body as she squirms against me.

“If you… if you keep t-touching me like that,” she gasps out, “I’m gonna come.”

I loosen my grip on her throat and press a kiss against the pulse fluttering there.“That’s the idea, love.”

Liv.Love.The two concepts wrap around each other in my mind.My controls snaps, and words spill out of me like water.

“You deserve to feel good.”I lay another kiss on her neck.“You deserve someone who lives and breathes to make you feel good.You deserve someone who’s honest with you.You deserve the best man.You deserve someone better than me.Than him.Than us.You deserve this.You deserve everything, Liv.Everything.You’re everything.”

I’m rambling as my hips drive up against her ass, but she’s someplace beyond hearing.

“Oh fuck.”She’s saying it over and over.“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,ohhhhhhhh fffuuuuu…”

She chokes on her last words just like her pussy chokes on my fingers as she starts to come.I slide my hand up to her jaw and turn her face to mine, desperate for her mouth so we can form a full circle, my fingers in her cunt, my tongue in her mouth, her orgasm drenching my hand.

My own orgasm takes me by surprise, and I come with a hoarse cry, my cock pulsing against the thin, stretchy material of my shorts.

“Jesusfuck, Livvie,” I mumble, hauling her against my chest and petting her limbs as she trembles with the aftershocks.She’s curled into me, eyes closed as she struggles to catch her breath.The only thing I want in the world is to hold her like this all night, but I have to let her go.Moving as slowly as possible so I don’t jostle her, I feel around the bench next to me, locating my beard and sunglasses.I slide them on, but the hat is MIA.

Panic claws at me.After working so hard to keep her from the betrayal of learning who I am, I can’t let her find out likethis.Placing a final kiss on the back of her neck, I gently shift her to the side and stand.There’s the hat, on the floor near the stool.I snatch it up and pull it on just as she starts to recover from her post-orgasm stupor.

“I…” I have no idea what to say as she smiles sleepily up at me.

“Thank you.”She stretches her arms over her head and dissolves into a shiver.“That was incredible.”

“It was.”My mouth opens, closes, opens again.Finally, I settle on, “Merry Christmas, Liv.”

And I bolt.

Twelve

Liv

“Come with me.”

I say a quick goodbye to the take-out customer I’m finishing up with, then pivot to face Jonesy.“Pardon?”

“Come with me,” he repeats.“June’ll cover for you.”

June steps behind the hostess stand like she and Jonesy planned it, and I let him lead me to the back of the restaurant and through the swinging kitchen door.We scoot past Samson, who’s shouting at an unfortunate line cook while the rest of the kitchen staff continue working away, nonchalantly clanking and chopping and stirring.Jonesy gives Samson a jaunty wave, apparently as immune to his moods as the rest of his staff.But I’m sure not, so I pick up the pace until we hit the back hallway.

“He makes me so nervous,” I whisper to avoid being overheard by the big, scary chef.

Jonesy whispers back, “All bark, no bite.He’ll make you a cake on your birthday, and it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

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